O N E

Robyn Eleanor Pimm was strong, even if she didn't believe that she was.

Not that in a normal physical way, but in the way that she clenched her fists, bit her rosy lips and forced herself to hold back the tears, as she watched her life break apart and fall to her feet. It was all she wanted to do —to let it all out, to let the tears fall down her cheeks, to make the heavens know that they weren't the only one crying. But she didn't. And that was strength.

Yeah... maybe not physical strength, but that's strength nonetheless.

She sat alone in her room. Today it was hers: the cream walls that seemed to glow, the wooden floor that creaked and had loose floorboards where she would hide things in, the white linen curtains that always danced with the breeze and soak up the sun and shine, and that feeling of contentment and safety that surrounded her like a soft blanket. Yes, they were hers... but tomorrow they would all belong to someone else.

The rain fell outside her window; sorrow in its drops. It drummed its fingers on the roof, making the room be filled with an endless drone. Robyn was thankful for this —it stopped the deafening silence from reaching her ears. But still... she felt such mourning as she heard it fall from the heavens, as though it hurt her. And it did to look around the room.

The cream walls now looked dim. The floorboards did not creak; hiding places bare and abandoned. The white linen curtains did not dance, they did not shine. And that feeling of contentment and safety? Well, Robyn was holding on to those last fading feelings as though they were all that mattered to her.

She sat there on the cushioned window sill, staring out into the garden and the swirling earth and sky just out of her reach. She noticed that as the raindrops clung and slid down the window, she could hardly make out one from another —the grey sky and the sweltering green earth mixed together like paint in water. The window was open and the breeze was cold and it made Robyn's dark hair fly and fling into her face, but she didn't dare close the window.

She just took it all in. The smell of damp earth, the cool wind biting her cheek, the sight of the trees in the garden swaying to the weather. She just sat frozen in place in front of her window, not brave enough to look behind her at the bare room, that bore its eyes into the back of her head.

It blamed her for stripping it of its colour —of its life. Its shelves that were now bare, the bright covers of her bed, like flesh, now stripped away until all that was left was the skeleton. And she didn't blame it for hating her. Robyn didn't want to take down the things that she had had for years. She didn't want to make her room echo so much with sadness and woe. But she couldn't help it.

She couldn't help that she was leaving.

She wished she wasn't leaving.

"Robbie?" A lone voice echoed like wind through the house.

Robyn pulled her knees to her chest and rested against the window frame. She willed herself to not look at the door. She begged her mother's voice not to reach her. But the vibrations flying through the air hit her ear and the rain was masked by: "Robyn, sweetie, we have to go. The cab's here."

And with that all the memories came. The tears, the laughter, the walks in muddy boots through the  English countryside, the own little universe she had made in this very room with the help of a stain-glass wind chime that made the walls be filled with colour and light. All those memories in this house were now never going to be repeated, soon they will fade and be forgotten. All of that was ripped from her grasp. No more was this hers. It was someone else's.

Robyn let out her breath and her strange blue eyes, that she disliked so much, grew hazy with held back tears; she was testing her strength. She forced her head to turn towards the open, bare door. "Coming, Mum," her voice croaked out, breaking a bit at the end. She didn't care if her voice wasn't loud enough to hear; the rain engulfing it.

She buried her chin in her knees as she looked upon such an empty room. Robyn glanced at her rucksack —all packed and ready to go— to the open beaconing door.

"Do I really have to leave?" She breathed out —maybe to her room, maybe to the rain and wind, maybe to no one. She was just hoping she would get a reply that could convince her to stay.

But the wind was silent, the room didn't creak, and the rain continued playing its same old tune.

Yes, logic and stubborn sub-conscience replied instead. 

Robyn was torn. Her body and soul refused to move a muscle, turning her into a living statue. They were trying to tell her to stay where it was safe and calm; whereas she knew it was impossible to fight what her brain told her— that it wasn't her decision, it was her mother's. And it was bloody impossible to stay, unless she wanted to hide in the attic where the new family couldn't find her.

'And are you going to do that? No.'

'Well...'

'No, stop even considering that Robyn.'

And anyway it was an adventure... wasn't it?

But who was she kidding? God, was she scared! So scared of that was to come once she left this house. Scared of what was to happen if she stayed. She was scared of who would win this civil war inside her. But Robyn had already known who had won the war, she just couldn't move an inch. Her body was betraying her —her hands were hurting from how hard she clutched her jeans, pinning her to the spot. Then came the wave of fear, of terror, of doubt. She couldn't breathe. She was drowning in her own body.

But then a little voice spoke from deep within her, blocking out for a moment the fear, the thoughts, the worry, that all crashed together like a violent sea. Be brave, Robbie, it whispered. Be brave...

Taking in a thin breath, she bunched her fists tighter. Her heartbeat quickened violently and her body tensed as the fear of the unknown sent her gasping for air like she was trapped under water. Tears brimmed her frightened eyes. But still she willed herself not to let them fall.

Be brave, Robyn... I know you can.

Be brave...

All the sudden, she released herself and sprang onto her feet, picked up her rucksack and swung it over her shoulder. She took a moment to rub the tears from her eyes with her jumper sleeve and began to breathe in time with the swaying trees and endless rain. She smiled slightly.

I am brave.

And just for a moment, the rain lessened.

Robyn tried to ignore the creaks and squeaks of the floorboards beneath her feet and continued to drag her legs towards the door. She felt the cool metal rest upon her palm as she grasped the brass doorknob.

Robyn looked around her for the last time, at this empty shell of a room. She tried her best to imagine this room with more colour, more life —with a quiet, calm air to it; messy but in an organised way. Sort of a bit like Robyn in a way.

She tried to remember every detail. She didn't want to forget.

But soon that image faded into ghosts and memories, and the emptiness replaced it. She felt a heavy weight on her shoulders, pulling her down to who knows where. But still she didn't let her tears fall.

"Goodbye..." she whispered out for the last time. Maybe it was to the room. Maybe it was to the wind or rain. Or maybe it was to the little girl who grew up in this room —pigtails tied with pink ribbons, strange eyes wide with wonder, laughing as she spun and danced in the multicoloured light of her wind chime, her dress flowing around her. Her head was so far up in the clouds, stars got tangled in her hair. She was dancing in her own little galaxy, a made up melody in her head. Back then, Robyn was allowed to sing... she was happy, carefree, full of light.

What happened?

But then again... maybe it was to no one.

So she closed the door behind her.

*

Robyn's mother hummed as she packed the last of her things. Whizzing around the kitchen in a blur of blonde hair, trying to outrun the thoughts that tried to trip her. About her home, about her sister, about the— um... well, never mind.

But as much as she tried, she could not escape or outrun the pit in her stomach. Her hazel eyes were hazy and dull, her face was as though set in stone, the amount of emotions in her caused her to look emotionless, and she couldn't help but notice her necklace bounce against her chest. Like a second heartbeat.

Her name was Iris. Iris Pimm. Remember that name. And she was very much a beautiful woman. With locks of golden hair, doe-like eyes, and a heart shaped face full of elegant lines of age and dotted with sun-kissed freckles.

Even when she was little, Robyn was convinced that she was the most beautiful person alive; whereas Iris was always amazed about how much her daughter grew in grace and beauty each day. Inside and out she was pure —both of them were. But each, in time, managed to tell themselves that they were not; they were dirty.

Robyn walked down the stairs and her fingers tighten around the banister as she heard the humming. Iris only hummed when she was sad, and she was only sad when she thought of Emily, her mother's sister. The person who had caused such grief in Robyn.

Aunt Emily hadn't really been the best of aunts to Robyn, or the best sister to Iris for that matter. Ever since Robyn was small, Aunt Emily had been distant from her niece. She would look at her in a uncertain way, like Robyn was an animal and she was wondering when she would attack her. And it would trouble Robyn in the way in which she would always question herself on what she did wrong.

The last time Robyn saw her was when she was eight and was awoken to the sound of muffled yelling and crying. She couldn't tell who was doing which. She had crept downstairs to see what was going on, and peeking through the ajar door to the living room, she saw Emily shouting at her mum, who was weeping into her hands.

"It's not normal, Iris!" Emily exclaimed, brown eyes wild. "He dumped her on you, and then buggered off to who-knows where! No, listen to me, and don't give me that crap about 'it wasn't his fault' because it was —you know it is! You are stupid to think she is normal because she's not! And you're stupid for falling for that crap he gave you eight years ago as well!"

Then, in a flash, Robyn's mum sprang to her feet, fire in her eyes. She yelled at Emily to never come near her or Robyn ever again, and Robyn watched the whole thing with tears in her eyes. She had never seen her kind, loving mum so angry before.

Robyn forgot why she chose to stay in front of that door. She forgot why she stood stock still as Emily walked out the room, stopping in front of her. But Robyn remembered looking up at Emily's disgusted face with tears falling down her cheeks. She remembered how Emily looked into her eyes and saw only one thing. Something that shouldn't have ever been. And Robyn remembered what Emily had said to her with acid in her breath:

"Whatever is in you, remember that no matter how innocent you are now, it will come out of you in a bad way. And when it happens, don't you dare be anywhere near Iris."

And then she was gone, disappearing into a stormy night. Robyn never saw her again. Her mum never mentioned it, and she was too scared to bring it up. So Aunt Emily turned into a twisted, evil memory that stuck onto Robyn and infected her being. The once loud, free and outgoing girl was locked away and in her stead sat a quiet girl who was scared of talking to people, fearing they would look at her as Aunt Emily had that night. What she said still playing in her head like a broken record.

But then a year later, out of the blue, Emily left not only them, but the world.

It was sudden. A policeman stood on the doorstep, cap in hand. She had died in a car crash. It was a Sunday morning. They were baking fairy cakes— warm smiles on their faces. That afternoon, it started to rain. Iris' tears fell with them.

Iris never talked ill of her ever again after that; trying to keep those happy memories of them both together alive. But Robyn was stuck in limbo, for she had no happy memories of both her and Aunt Emily. And so it had stuck with her ever since, never getting any closure; just unspoken pain.

Iris hadn't noticed her hand gripping her necklace tightly. She hadn't noticed a stay tear fall. She hadn't noticed her daughter walk into the room. She hadn't noticed she had stopped humming or that the rain was still pattering against the earth.

What she did notice was her daughter's voice utter, "Mum?"

"Hm?" She swiped the tear away and turned her golden head and looked into Robyn's concerned eyes. "Oh, I am fine, sweetie. Really."

Robyn didn't believe her, but she didn't say anything. If she would press it, her mum would have just denied it more. And she had many times.

Iris thoughts left her as she looked at her daughter and once again took in her beauty. Her dark, wavy locks curving down to her ribs, her freckled face that held a button nose, and a rosy mouth which held a smile belonging to her father. But it were her eyes that would you breathless —oh, her eyes! A shade of blue that didn't reflect light but seemed to emit it. Iris had no idea why Robyn despised them so much. They were rare. And rarity should be praised.

Robyn knew why she hated them: they were... they were different. And difference in this world is deemed as a cursed thing.

Her mother watched as Robyn faintly smiled for her, but it twitched at the corners, and a lock of her hair fell in front of her face. She was so beautiful. She was so much like her father. She was trying so hard to be brave.

She still remembered all those years ago when it was her first day of school, standing in that very spot. Robyn loved her eyes once. And so she was always wide eyed, looking at everything around her in wonder, awe and love —her hair was in ribbons and she was dressed in a pretty little 'la-la' (which Robyn used to call a dress). She was holding the same rucksack, except it was cleaner and less frayed as it was now.

Back then it was all sunshine, smiles and laughter. Now it was rain, anxiety and self-consciousness.

Iris saw as the tears threatened to leave Robyn's eyes. She saw her grasp her rucksack tighter. She saw her start to tremble more. She saw her about to break.

"Oh, Ro-Ro," Iris said softly, walking to her with open arms to envelop her. She felt her shake in her arms.

Robyn buried her head into her mother's clothes, breathing in that familiar scent. She couldn't help but let the tears fall. "Mum, why do we have to go?" She whimpered.

"It will be okay, it will be okay. You know that it would be better for the both of us if we move in order to get a better pay, and also, it would help if we were to live somewhere where we didn't have to drive half an hour to get anything. I know it's scary, I know, but it's for the better... It's for the better." Iris rested her chin on Robyn's head so she couldn't see the pain of lying to her. She breathed deeply and composed herself.

Robyn took a moment to calm down before she leaned out of the hug to face her mum. Her mum rubbed her arms.

"Yeah, sure, but America? Why there?" Robyn whined. At that point she didn't care if she sounded childish. "I mean, America! Why couldn't we have just moved to... I don't know, Birmingham or-or Cornwall, Devon? You know, some place in the country."

The look on her mum's face changed and her hazel eyes had a sort of look in them. A memory. A reason. A sad thought. Robyn could not tell which. Her mum shook her head slightly, and her face fell back in a relaxed state. She sighed. "Baby, we talked about this. My job requires me to move to America."

"Yeah, I know," Robyn sighed. She looked around her. "It's just that... I sure am going to miss this place."

Iris pulled her into her arms again and kissed her head. "I am too, sweetie. I am too. Now come on, the cabby's waiting," Iris spoke softly, parting from the hug and walking to the counter to finish writing the note she was leaving for the new owners. After she picked up her handbag, she turned back to Robyn.

"Okay. All ready?"

Robyn nodded and swung her rucksack over her shoulder.

They walked together to the front door, fingers laced together. Robyn, as she walked, ran her hand against the cream walls feeling every nook and cranny. Iris placed a hand over the doorknob and froze for a second. She let out a breath before opening the door. They were both welcomed by the noise of the rain falling before them.

Iris breathed in the fresh air. "Right then. Goodbye, house. We will both miss you very much... Don't cause the new owners too much grief while we are gone!"

Robyn smiled. She tightened her grip on her mother's hand, feeling as though it was her first day at school again.

They walked down the front garden, swinging their hands as they walked. Robyn looked back at her home. She looked up at her bedroom window, and for a second, she could have sworn she saw a little girl in pigtails, dancing around her galaxy room in a pretty 'la-la'.