Fan Fiction ❯ Frozen ❯ Crying Over Spilt Milk ( Prologue )

Crying Over Spilt Milk

The suspicion first hit me when I was about ten or eleven, but I was only certain once he stole the ranch from my father, Talon.

Master Ingo is completely insane.

"Aren't you done milking that cow yet, you half-witted whore's child?" I frowned and continued working as Ingo drew nearer and Sarah, the only cow in the barn still fit to give milk, pawed the ground and snuffled anxiously.

"Malon, you bitch!" His voice was nearer now, and I could see the shiny tip of one ornate leather boot out of the corner of my eye. I continued milking even as I replied.

"What can I do for you, Master Ingo?" I didn't expect the blow that came crashing down on the side of my head. It would have knocked me off the stool in any case, but as it was, my foot met with the bucket.

The milk!

I turned and looked with disbelieving eyes at the overturned pail. There, slowly soaking into the dirt floor, there lay the product of nearly two hours of petting and pleading and soothing and singing. Two hours of calming Sarah, distracting her from the evil air for long enough to get her to give milk.

Two hours, gone. And now, the silent promise of a whipping, come sunset. I stood quickly, the left side of my face burning, my ears ringing, head still reeling dangerously. The floor tilted, fit to throw me back down, but somehow I managed to stand firm.

" - hear me, farm brat?" Ingo's voice tore angrily back into my awareness. "You will answer promptly when you are spoken to!"

"Yes, sir, Master Ingo," I replied stiffly. He shifted to look past me at the spilled milk, now just a wet spot under Sarah's pawing hoof. He sneered and stroked his crooked mustache, then frowned ominously.

"You need a whippin', girl. Come back to the barn once your chores are done.

"Yessir," I dared not form a longer answer, as a misstep would result in thirty lashes, rather than the usual fifteen.

_~*~_

When I finally finished washing the dishes, I made my way back out to the barn. Night was falling, and Ingo was busily tying a slipknot onto a rope as I entered the warm barn. Smirking at me, he tossed the knotted end over a roof beam and secured the other end on the ground. I didn't wait for him to call me over - I just wanted to get it over with as quickly as possible. So, I walked right up to him and held out my wrists, waiting for the loop to be slipped around them and tightened. It was - viciously. Then Ingo pulled on the other side of the rope, securing it tightly so that my wrists were pulled above my head, and I had to stand on tiptoe. Then he came around and stood inches in front of me, lovingly fondling a hard leather whip, whose sting I had felt many times before.

"You know, Malon - there is an alternative to this. You don't have to suffer this way if you… obey my wishes," Ingo leered. I scowled, but managed to restrain myself from spitting at him.

"I would sooner chew glass. You stole land from my father, who was kind enough to house you and give you food. You vile, ungrateful thing - I could never be that way for you!" Ingo's leering smirk faded, and he backhanded me forcefully across the face. Then, he walked around behind me again, and, without warning, I heard a crack and felt a fiery stripe blaze up on my back, followed by another, and then another. I got twenty lashes that night, all in silence - tears streamed down my face, but I would not cry out. He had taken everything else from me - he would not take my pride.