Dirt caked hands clung to tattered skirts as tears continued to stream down flushed cheeks. [She could hardly believe that she had struck him-she slowly brought her palm to her eyes, still in disbelief that she hit him-and yet, she felt no remorse. Anger was all that clouded her mind-anger and a pain that nothing could numb. Oh, how he had hurt her! Even now, after she had struck him with all her might, he greeted her with ‘lady’. Oh, it was disgusting! Had he forgotten what he had told her?! Would he, as everyone else in this damned place, pretend that everything was alright when the entire world was going to hell?! Hypocrites, the lot of them!]
She brought her eyes towards his visage once more, her small body trembling-she could only wonder if it was the slap that hurt him or the fact that he had come face to face with what was once his beloved. Now she was a ghost, wailing for a deceased father and singing filthy tunes as she wandered through halls and gardens, barefoot and half undressed. She was a spectacle to them-an oddity. They were half scared, half intrigued-but no one would help her. They would just gawk. No one would help her.
(The prince himself looked unwell-he looked as if he had stared death in the eye-his head decorated by not even a cap and his clothes not his own. And for a moment, it was pity that struck the girl’s heart.) Slowly, she reached towards him with outstretched hands, silently inviting him to take them in his own. She wondered how long it had been-for she had lost track of time.
And then she remembered him again-her brother. He had warned her to avoid the prince. Oh, how she wished she had listened! She quickly withdrew her hands-no, no, sully her, he would not! [Where was Laertes now? Still away in France? Unaware of Father’s death? Partaking in debauchery, unaware that his sister was a spectacle for the royal court of Denmark?]
She brought her hand to her cheek, wiping a tear away and leaving it streaked with dirt, eyes still locked upon the prince’s visage.
~”My valentine, you have arrived!”~ she cried out before throwing her head back and laughing-she wished for him to witness the entire spectacle. ~”But far too late, my lord! For the damage has already been inflicted!”~
WHEN THE YOUNGER OUTSTRETCHED HER HANDS, the prince could only stare in awe at them, unmoving, glued to his spot -- not because he did not want to take them, oh, no ! truly, when he had embarked on the waves, he had felt so terribly lonely, alone with his thoughts of what he had done to ophelia. how he had wished he could twine her in his arms ; no, indeed, to fall upon his knees and beg her wrath, after everything he had done! but amleth, at this point, knew that he was too far gone for forgiveness, too disgusting a being in God’s eyes to ever catch the light in ophelia’s eyes again. he looked, speechless, at ophelia’s hands, and was almost glad to see her recoil in second thoughts. he did not wish to sully her any further; and just as well, the prince had the feeling that if he were to hold ophelia as he had once upon a time, something inside him that was just barely holding together would shatter altogether.
he had thought before that he had run out of tears to cry, but he found a surprise brimming his eyes, clinging to blond eyelashes. when he opened his mouth to respond to the young girl’s mania, a broken, pathetic sob escaped his lips; hands covering his face, heart constricting like a wet rag.
“thou angel -- oh, what has become of us?” amleth wept, throat ragged. “how blessed i am to even be in thy presence, after, indeed, all the damage!” words could not wrap around an apology; only tears, long stored inside him, burst from the seams. “ precious girl, how awful have i been! i would thou wouldst drive a dagger into my heart, giving me the death i so deserve. how horrid this life is!” he cried. “ have i truly done so? art thou my handiwork, indeed?”
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