Disclaimer: I do not own Wuthering Heights nor any of its characters.
Catherine surrendered to her desires with exultation. Her light step made it relatively easy for her to pass the blasphemous Joseph and incredulous Nelly, who sat quietly about their business in the kitchen. She could hear the faint sound of Nelly singing. Good, she was distracted. Slowly, carefully, Catherine unlocked the bolt of the front door and stepped forward into the downpour of the storm. Now, where was Heathcliff? She ran manically through the profuse hailstones, the hem of her white dress flailing along the sodden ground behind her. It was browning and fraying at the ends, but Catherine didn't care much. When she and Heathcliff ran away together, they would be complete savages; there would be no room for pretty dresses with intricately woven patterns, so she better had adapt to it now.
She ran around the corner of the Heights, trailing her fingers along the jutting concrete protruding from the structure. Her home had grown even wilder, if that were possible, since the passing of Mr Earnshaw and Frances. Hindley hadn't the mind, nor the health to attempt to tame the growing shrubbery and wildflowers that surrounded Wuthering Heights. The same was said for the taming of Cathy and Heathcliff. They enjoyed the wildness of the Heights, revelled in it, for it reflected their own personalities. In being there, together as savages, they found rejoice.
Catherine began to shiver, and hurried her step towards the stables. Hindley had degraded Heathcliff, and she was positive that this was where he would have sent him to rest the night. A wildflower was torn from the sodden ground by Cathy's grasping hand as she ran; she planned to don it to Heathcliff as a reminder of her love. The flower was already dying, torn from its life force in the ground, but Catherine was sure that her love never would. She wouldn't let that happen. She and Heathcliff were one body, one soul, one mind, and that's the way it would always be. She simply could not survive any other way.
Heart beating rapidly in her chest, she entered the stable, Heathcliff sat on a bench in the corner, eyes on the barn door as though he'd expected her all along. He stood sharply, welcoming her. Catherine exhaled in relief and promised to herself that she would never let Hindley flog Heathcliff ever again. His pain was her pain, but when they were together; neither one of them felt it. They felt only one another's bliss at being reunited once more.
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