At the mercy of...?

* Anne *

I knew what was coming.

As soon as the words left her corrupted lips I knew that for the next few minutes, maybe hours, I would have no control. Rational thought was no longer an option.

I stood there, isolated as she sneered at me. Numb as I tried to formulate a reply, some witty retort that would cut to the bone, and hurt as mortally as I did. Nothing came, and then I did what I had once vowed never to do; I ran.

Slamming doors and tripping down stairs, I had no idea where I was going. My whole body was on fire as I pounded down the hill. My knees jarred and I felt my tights ladder on the asphalt; I'd lost my shoes and hadn't noticed

I hit gravel and feet were crying out for mercy, but I did not stop. I couldn't feel anything but the hot, putrid anger that swamped my consciousness. Questions rose in my mind, only to be pushed under by a wave of blind hatred. How did she know? Had someone blabbed? I'd only told the most trusted of my friends, and the thought that the trust of my closest companions had been compromised was more painful than the soles of my feet as I raced on through the car park.

I almost collided with the metal barrier that separated the playing fields from the main campus of the college. As I stared across the lush green mass before me, glistening with frost in the timid January sunshine, my anger doubled back on itself. Idiot, I thought, running out of there like a six-year-old having a tantrum, but I wasn't left alone with my sensible side for long. I heard footsteps - hard and heavy - running down the hill the way I had come. I waited until the sound of panting and wheezing had arrived next to me and subsided slightly before breaking down in a fit of helpless sobbing, still cursing myself.

* Louisa*

          I just stood there and held onto her. She was clinging to me and sobbing into the front of my blazer. Oh Annie, I thought, looking down at my friend's tousled hair as she continued to cry, why do you always have to fly off the handle like this? Why couldn't it be simpler?
          She calmed herself and pulled away, turning slightly to lean on the barrier, just as she had before, only this time she was snivelling. She gripped the metal pole with the hand nearest to me like it was the last thing she had. I noticed her other hand was shaking; she quickly stuffed it into her pocket.
          After a minute or two, I thought it was safe to break the silence, "What happened back there?" I thought the question hadn't registered, and I was about to ask again when she spun to face me, still holding the metal barrier in her left hand, her patterned blue-grey eyes full of fire and her usually pale skin forming hot patches on her cheeks
"Who told her?"
"What do you mean?" I asked, genuinely confused.
"You were there Lou, you heard what she said to me, she must have known."
I was still puzzled "Anne I still don't understand, all she said was - " it clicked, "Oh Annie..." then the full meaning of the phrase uttered hit me like a ten-ton weight.
           Undiluted rage rose in my chest "that little -!" I stopped myself - the punishments for swearing were severe at St. Bartleby's and it didn't do to get into the habit. Annie had recovered herself "You see?" but I hadn't,
"How DARE she use something like that against you? And for something so stupid!" I grabbed her hands and looked her in the eyes, "Annie you have to tell them."

*Anne*

I looked at my friend; she stared back at me, breathless with outrage.
I couldn't face what she was asking me to do, what I had to do.
            "Lou they'll kick me out, no-one stays after the Nuns get wind of something like this, I mean look at Arianne..." but she wouldn't accept what I was trying to tell her
"Anne, this is a Catholic College! You said it yourself that we have the motto drummed into us everyday only this morning, Misericordia et fides, compassion and faith-"
"That's my point!" I smacked the barrier with my hand in frustration "A Catholic College, my own mother ran away from here when she was seventeen, they hate my family, and now it's breaking up..." I turned to look at her horrified face, and she stared back at me, her dark eyes glistening with tears of disbelief. I tried again, forcing myself to smooth the anger from my voice "Look at the facts Lou, a runaway pregnant teenager that sends her daughter back to shame the school, and now a divorce, the MS* is going to love that isn't she? They've only got compassion for the good girls, no time for society's out-casts."

She seemed to renew her resolve "But look at Jesus' disciples, they weren't exactly saints (well, not before he met them anyway) and he loved them!" I smiled; she'd put it as only Louisa Mullins could have.

I watched her as she gazed over the grounds of the college we had shared since the tender age of ten. I don't know what had drawn us together; she was from a conventional Catholic family, with generation of Old Bartlebians be hind her, I was the daughter of a runaway problem child, but they say opposites attract. We had been best friends since we met and I could tell exactly what she was thinking from the look on her face. Right now I could tell she was fighting an inner battle: defend the college - and essentially her religion - or stand by her best friend.

I suddenly had a desperate desire to win her support "Abbot Chandler my be as ‘compassionate' as Jesus in the eyes of the church, but everyone knows he's about as forgiving and open minded as...as..." Lou put a hand on my shoulder
"I know, don't worry," she said soothingly. After a pause she asked, "Are you going to run?"

*Louisa*

          She looked away from me, across the fields again, her eyes unfocused. We stood there for a moment, lost in the sheltered peace of the grounds that had been our playground since...well it seemed like forever. She looked at me.
"No." She had this odd look on her face as she said it, and I recognised it as the will power that only Annie possessed. We'd been through some tough times together, but it was that look that told me we were always going to make it.
"Well if you're sure..." she nodded firmly
"I am. I'm not going to run out like my mother did" I sighed with relief, and glanced up the hill. I saw a rather large, ruffled-looking figure in a habit jogging down the slope towards us; someone must have raised the alarm. Anne had that look on her face again, but this time is wasn't a grimace of determination, there was a hint of expectation, excitement even.

"You're plotting again, Anne Turner" I told her reprovingly, making no effort to disguise the grin on my face, "But may I suggest that before you start climbing mountains-" I jerked my head up the hill at the habited figure I now recognised to be Sister Umberton "- you begin by jumping a mole hill or two" We both laughed, and I was even more relieved to see the smile on her face that I knew so well. It was going to be okay.