Revolutionary Hearts

Revolutionary Hearts: Part Seven

June 10, 1780

It's early morning, and I'm suffering from the worst of sleepless nights. It was already late when I came in last night, but in the hopes of easing my aching heart I'd stayed awake and written everything down while it was fresh.

Worst. Idea. Ever.

Rather than brush the hurt away, writing seemed to carve the whole incident deeper into my brain. Troubling thoughts of Daniel kept me up until just before the dawn. And yet, despite that, here I am again poring my heart out to a stupid book...

It was Miss Elizabeth who found me last night. I can't tell you exactly what she saw happen between that boy and me, but when she peered over the fence at me her face was deeply flustered and her eyes worried. She began to call for her husband Rodger to come and help me...

I told her sharply that I didn't need help. Determined to scrounge up some form of dignity, I stood and wiped the dirt from my backside, the tears from my face, and walked alone towards the house. 

Daniel had still been awake when I came in. I could see the candlelight flicker beneath the door of William's room, but I walked past it silently and without a second glance. 

I haven't been downstairs since.

Father is already out in the fields with his men; William and Alice are probably with Mama in the kitchen, and he-

Someone's coming up the stairs. Perhaps Mother senses something's wrong with me and is bringing my breakfast up... No... Not Mother? She doesn't cause the floorboards to creak that way...

Oh lord.

He's just outside my room, his violently pleasant voice calling my name. "Tara? Tara, I have your breakfast... I told your mother you weren't feeling well..."

I refused to answer him.

"Tara, can I please come in? We need to talk."

I'd tell him to go to hell, but that would break my silence and give him what he wants. Plus Mother would probably hear...

"Tara, I seriously doubt your mother wants me to drop her dishes on the floor, and I'm technically still an invalid... Tara I'm going to drop - "

I jerked the door open, took the tray he carried, and kicked the door closed.

Or at least that's what I meant to do. The bastard stuck his good leg out and wedged the door open with the toe of his boot. He followed me in, and is doubtlessly now staring at my tear stained face. I wouldn't know for sure, as I have yet to look him in the eye.

"Your food's going to get cold," he said softly.

I shrugged.

He sighed. "So this is how it's going to be?"

I gave a curt nod, my eyes never leaving this page.

"Tara, you have to know that I - "

"WHERE IS HE!?"

I looked up then, turning to the door as Daniel did. My father's enraged voice seemed to shake the very walls, tremors racking my body as he thundered up the stairs. I flinched when he threw my door open against the wall...

June 10, 1780

(Continued)

Looking back, it seems like a frighteningly vivid dream when my father barreled into my room. He had murder written in his eyes as he grabbed my Daniel by the throat and slammed him against the wall.

"You gutless son of a -- "

"PAPA!"

"Get behind me," my father seethed. "He won't hurt you again, Tara."