When I came down to breakfast Mother was already seated with a steaming cup of coffee in her hand. She peered down at the folder of paperwork in front of her. I gulped when I realized Father wasn't joining us. I sat quietly, too afraid to speak.
Mother looked me over, rolled her eyes, and continued to stare at her work. I felt myself shrink. I had tried too hard to be perfect in her liking.
When breakfast was served I made sure to not touch my silverware to the plate or my teeth. I ate daintily, slowly, and silently. I kept my posture straight and my gaze down.
Mother eventually excused herself and I relaxed, placing my fork on the plate and sighing in relief. My head was already throbbing from how tight my hair was pinned. I wanted to pull it down but resisted. Instead, I stood and turned to hide in my garden, but a storm was swirling outside as well.
Reluctantly, I made my way to the hall behind the stairs where the library hid. I found a book and made myself comfortable on the old leather sofa before pouring into the pages, escaping my uncomfortable existence and oddly begging for William's return regardless of how painful it would be.
I stared at the print on the pages as my mind wandered, contemplating what to do about him. I figured he'd come back healed and not wanting to continue the wicked relationship. I would have to find a way of surviving my heartache.
I was staring off, remembering his touch, his feel, his taste, and not listening for the feet closing in behind me.
"What are you doing?" a voice barked. I jumped, almost not recognizing it for a second before images and memories that came with the sound blurred my vision in fear.
I stood and spun to face Mother. "I'm reading, trying to keep sharp for school." I tried to laugh and sound as though nothing was wrong.
Mother rolled her eyes. "Don't lie. You never cared about school."
My heart pounded too loud in my ears, drowning out my voice as I tried to placate the beast. "I want to do good this year. I've always tried my best," I was a straight-A student but had brought home two tests the past year with B’s. Mother had gone off the rails. I shuddered at the thought.
She crept around the small sofa. Her inch high heels clipped the floor in warning. I wanted to step away but knew it would incense her.
"Mother, I didn't mean to be snippy. I'm sorry." Every muscle in my body stiffened as she came nose to nose with me.
"You honestly think you tried your best?" Her voice was a frightening whisper. "Were you the top of your class? Did you make perfect grades?"
"I did try, but I'm not perfect." My tone was almost pleading. I hated myself for it. She could make my pride disappear so easily.
The hand came down before I saw it rise. I snapped my head back to face her again, somehow keeping my balance. I wanted to lift my hand to my face but knew if I did Mother would strike again.
"No, you aren't perfect." She spat the words to me. "Nowhere close." She whirled away and stormed from the room.
I stared at the empty library as tears rolled down my burning cheek. My spine weakened as my heart calmed.
I slumped onto the sofa and let myself cry. My hands cradled my face, comforting and hiding. I wished the storm outside could wash away the one drowning me in my own home.
I felt the sharp stab through my scalp as my head was snapped back by my hair. "Let go!" I jerked away, slapping her hand from me.
My vision tunneled as my lungs clenched in terror. My hands shook, knowing I had made everything worse.
"I'll give you a reason to cry." She hunched toward me as I scrambled away. She was a terrible demon, cloaked in black with venom in her eyes.
Words tumbled from my lips as I attempted to tame her rage. "I'm sorry. I was feeling sad. I had no reason to be. You're right." I held my hands in front of me, trying to protect myself as she stalked closer.
She’s insane, I thought. Her eyes lit with fire as she lunged. I didn’t notice the sheen of the handcuffs until she knocked me in the head with the book I had been reading. My skull connected with a shelf of a bookcase as I tried to duck another blow.
She gripped my hair and began dragging me from the room and up the stairs. "Mother please," I begged, too afraid to fight. My feet followed her every pull like a horse in reins.
"You asked for this with your disrespect. With your lack of being good for anything." I didn't understand how she could snap from her new wonderful self back into the fearsome monster so quickly, simply at the drop of her brother.
I slipped on one of the steps. She screeched as she pulled me back to my feet. My scalp screamed as I fought to keep up with her.
My shoes fell off and were left behind on the marble. She shoved me into my room and pushed me repeatedly until I was backed against the bed.
I heard the cuff and cried but held out my wrist. She would get it no matter how much I failed to cooperate.
The cold metal against my skin was nothing to how tight she clamped it, pinching my flesh. She knew if I moved the skin would tear. She spun and swayed from the room as I stood handcuffed to a post my canopy bed, unsure of when I would be released.
I gently tried to push the cuff on the bed down so I could sit, but it wouldn't budge. I sighed and leaned my head against the pole and used the lace of the canopy to dry my face. Every breath seemed to dislocate the cuff on my wrist. I felt every tear.
My teeth began to grind with the pain, once again, until my heart began to welcome it. She knew how tight she handcuffed me, and no matter how I bled I would always hold the blame.
I waited until my back ached, my feet hurt, and my arm grew sore. The storm outside hid any sign of time, but I could hear the grandfather clock down the hall chime hour after hour.
I started to twist my wrist. Somehow it eased the pain in my heart as the agony in my arm screamed.
Dinner hour passed. I had hoped Mother would release me by the time she went to sleep. When the clock struck eleven I gave up. Fury ignited me as I twisted harder, blood seeping in tiny trickles down my arm.
I stood, twisted, sobbed and raged, mutilating myself until I once again believed everything to be wrong with me, as Mother obviously saw it. I deserved the pain I inflicted on myself.
The night slept as I deformed inside and out. I wasn't worthy of Mother's affection, Father’s protection, or William's touch.
I had ruined William. I had brought him into the deep darkness that was my mind, where he could do nothing but drown. I was glad he fled before it was too late.
I didn't know when the storm stopped. I stood for hours, watching the light of the sun seep across my room until I wouldn't have had to hear the clock ding twelve times to know the hour.
I was exhausted from standing, crying, and bleeding. The cuff was looser but too excruciating to bear. I thought I would faint from the agony. I had no choice but to stand in the nightmare that was my life.
The sun began to sink and I lost track of the hours, no longer counting the chimes. I tried to rest with my head against the cool wood.
I was thirsty. I needed to use the restroom. I wanted nothing more than to not exist.
The darkening room was blurred by the time the door snapped open. I couldn't see who it was but heard the voice screaming at me for bleeding on the white carpet. Hands gripped my face. The pain in my wrist sharpened as I was jerked in every direction from vicious slaps.
I couldn't find my voice to respond. I simply closed my eyes against the reality. There was silence for a long time before sudden pain made my eyes fly open. Screams curdled in my lungs.
Mother brandished a wooden cane, the one that tortured her as a girl. It had been used on me a handful of times as a child on my legs.
The cane ravaged my back until I thought my spine was broken. My exhausted legs buckled. My shoulder screamed as my hand stayed where it was locked when I crashed to the ground.
I felt everything and could do nothing. Stars burst in my vision as the cane bruised the back of my head. The final blow to my back cracked the wood.
> I gasped from the floor, trying not to swallow the blood filling my mouth. "I'm sorry, Mommy."
"Don't call me that." I felt the cruelty in her touch as she finally jerked the cuff away from the bed, key in hand. She snapped me to her by the cuffs. My wrist no longer hurt compared to the rest of my body. I heard the clink and my arm fell limp. I was afraid to attempt to move my shoulder
"Go clean yourself up," she spat at me. "And do not ever disagree with me again."
She slammed the bedroom door as I crawled to the bathroom. I sobbed at the trail of blood I left along the carpet. I lifted myself on the counter, terrified to do anything but what she demanded.
I stood in the shower, not caring that the water was too hot. I drank it and let it scorch along my insides as it burned my flesh. I couldn't look at myself in the mirror. I held my shredded wrist away from the water as I showered as quickly as possible.
I dressed and fell across the bed, not knowing what to do. I felt myself slip into sleep before I could decide otherwise.
Chapter 11- Drought
The sky was still dark when I woke with my heart thumping in my throat. I jolted up too quickly, my head throbbing and back feeling shattered.
I looked around the shadows of the room, unsure of what as supposed to do. If Mother came back and caught me sleeping, she would tear me apart.
My muscles tightened and screamed as I heard footsteps nearing my room. I held my breath, wondering if I had time to hide.
I strained my ears as two voices whispered in the hall. I slipped out of bed and pressed my ear to the door.
Mother’s voice, sweet and kind, came fast as she told someone that I was ill and should stay quarantined for a few days.
William’s voice, low and disbelieving, twisted my emotions until they were no longer recognizable. "What's wrong with her? Has she seen a doctor?"
"They're still waiting on the blood work to know for sure what's wrong, but they think it's the flu."
William sighed. "I'll let her rest."
I heard a small smack of a kiss. "I'm glad you're home, William."
"Me too." The feet receded but I waited until I heard both bedroom doors close.
I tried to turn the knob and peek into the hallway. I wiggled the metal, it barely moving. Mother hadn’t locked me in my room for months.
I hadn't been punished enough. I laid back down and prayed to be released soon.
✷✴✷
The next morning Mother entered my room with a tray of food and a grimace. She set the tray down and looked at me seated at the vanity, trying to cover the bruises on my face.
I didn't know what to do about my wrist other than wear long sleeved clothes even though it was midsummer. I hadn't been able to look at my back. It hurt too bad. The splintered halves of the cane were hidden in my closet.
I smiled up at her with sore cheeks and jaw to thank her for the food with a pained tongue. My teeth had shredded one side during the caning.
"Ruth, I'm sorry. I don't know what came over me." She looked to be back in her high spirits though I couldn't tell if her apology was sincere.
"I deserved it," I waved her apology away with a smile. It was all I knew to do to placate her.
She sat on the edge of my bed, facing my vanity. I pretended to not know about being confined to my room as she told me.
"William came home late last night. For some reason, I found him outside of your door." She chuckled and threw up her hands. "He claimed to be tired and thought it was his room. However, your face is swollen and you can't wear those thick winter clothes in the summer. In your normal clothes, he would see the damage you did to your wrist and back."
I swallowed my retort about her doing the damage. My hope deflated with her words.
Maybe it was best I was locked away. I would have more time separated from William. I would use it become accustomed to the thought of him not being able to be mine.
"They should heal soon," Mother stood and smiled as she swept across the room. "I'm going to bring you your meals until it’s safe for you to be seen again."
I nodded, not trusting my voice.
The lock clicked. I stormed into the bathroom to wash the thick makeup from my face. I tore off the dress and slipped into a nightgown that showed every bruise.
I sighed and situated my vanity bench beside the window, wondering how long it would be before I could step into my garden again.
✷✴✷
Time passed too slowly. Every day I peered into the mirror, checked my back, and tried to cover every shadow before Mother brought me breakfast. I watched through the days as William trekked into my garden, always alone and never staying for long.
It was as if he was unsatisfied with it when he was lonely. He always peered up to my window when he was outside and I always shrunk out of view.
I wondered how well he had moved away from me. Was he was finally getting his heart and head back into healthy reasoning? I still had trouble looking at him without feeling things I shouldn’t.
I had nothing to do in my room but dream away the days. I saw no one but Mother for a few seconds twice a day. I had been alone and stifled for over a week when I thought about trying to tie together the gowns in my closet and escape to my garden one night. I had gotten too much sleep through the day and watched the stars twinkle and the moon wane.
I sat by the window dreaming away my life when I heard a strange scrape. I turned as a white slip of paper appeared under the door.
I moved slowly, trying to be quiet while wondering if it was a trap. I lifted the page to see the unfamiliar scrawl. I smiled as I read, 'Are you ok?'
I hurried to the nightstand and pulled out a pen and another piece of paper. I wrote a short note explaining I was sick but starting to feel better. Ignoring the guilt of the lie, I slipped it under the door and waited for the response.
It felt like it took forever to receive a response. I tried to ignore the giddiness as I waited. When the message came it simply said, 'I miss you.'
I tried to quiet my hammering heart as I returned the sentiment and asked how his visit to his restaurant had been. His words didn’t mean that his heart was still afflicted the same as mine.
His answer confused me when he responded, 'enlightening'.
We kept up a steady stream of conversation in silence. I sat in front of the door, waiting and responding for over an hour while collecting his small notes. When he eventually passed a note stating Mother was moving around in her room I told him goodbye and hoped to see him soon.
I wanted to ask him, but I never did, if he was better. I needed to know how he was feeling toward me. I had enjoyed the time with him, even if I couldn't touch, see, or hear him.
The next morning I begged Mother to let me out. I wanted to take a walk outside, sit in my garden, or hide in the library. She refused. My eye wasn't swollen anymore but my face, shoulders, and back were all streaked with blue and yellow while my wrist was still healing.
William returned late at night. We continued to exchange notes, though his words were a bit more mystifying than the night before.
He asked what I was sick with. What were my symptoms? Had anything happened while he was away? I cringed as I lied, grateful he couldn't see my face or hear the words.
For five more days I was locked in my room. The morning Mother came in without her tray and looked me over, giving a satisfied nod, I couldn’t move. It didn’t feel real.
I sat at the window and stared at her in awe as she spoke, "Claim to have fallen asleep while wearing your watch the night before last to explain your wrist. You can leave the room today."
She smiled but when I jumped up to hug her she stiffened.
I stopped myself before touching her. Instead, I thanked her politely and watched her leave my room.
I rejoiced as I ran to shower and threw on a dress. I didn't bother to style my hair, simply brushing it while it still dripped down my back. I darted from the room into the hall, raced past Father on the st
airs, and out the dining room door towards my garden.
When I was halfway down the winding path, surrounded by my blossoms and scents, I heard the pounding of feet behind me. I spun to have William crash against me as he came around a bend.
"You're free." He lifted me by my hips. His crazed excitement took hold as he spun me around. I laughed and lifted my hands to the air, flying.
When he gently released me and my feet graced the ground I was still grinning, but his smile disappeared. His hand was on my back and his face agonizingly close.
A deep, meaningful tremble gripped his body. His expression quieted the worries in my mind. The weeks of dread, pain, and overwhelming self-hatred dissipated with my doubts of his affection.
He hesitated, his eyes lingering on mine, waiting for my approval. My fingers curled into his spirals. He pulled me tighter and lifted me to his lips.
Joy exploded inside me with so much strength it hurt. "I missed you," he whispered against my lips. He kissed my hair, face, and shoulders as if nothing we had fought ever crossed his mind.
I tried not to wince, realizing that a few placed on my back still hurt. He kissed my fingertips and hands. I laughed at how dizzyingly sweet it was.
He pulled back to stare at my wrist. "What the hell happened?" I looked at the still pink, raw skin spotted with long, scabbed cuts.
"I fell asleep in my watch the night before last. It tore me up," I gestured the thought away and tried to pull him down to kiss me again.
"What kind of watch is it?" he asked, not letting me dismiss the topic.
"Silver?"
"What color is the face?"
I didn't know anything about watches. I didn't even own a watch. "Blue." I tried to meet his eyes and smile but heard my own frustration. I had no doubt he did as well.
"Ruth?" I looked up, my eyes wide and innocent. "I'd like to see that watch. I can smooth it out for you." He glared down at me.
I pulled my wrist away. "Mother sent it off to the jeweler, but thank you." I turned and walked up the path toward the fountain, my happiness rapidly becoming replaced with anxiety as I weaved the latest tale.
Truth Page 7