To My Love

To My Love: Portrait

There was nothing more I could do than mope around this house. My back was finally healed. Yet I couldn't bring myself to remember how I broke it. It hadn't been a big deal for me to remember my mothers death...but the gap between was painful. The fall down gave me moments to think about it. The healer came by and told me I could take the corset off, but yet my mother never taught me how. We had maids that dressed us and took the ease off of caring for ourselves at the ripe age we were. I sat at the dining table and ate the cream brûlée that was provided in front of me. It sat on a golden crested plate. China. Me and my mother had a collection of china plates and glasses from our trips.
All these items in this house was filled with memories that weren't originally meant for me. There was a painting that hung in the main hall. It was a oil portrait of the man. The portrait was covered in lies. There was nothing true about it. It showed no slimness in his face and his lips were flat and emotionless. And he looked kind...he was so far from kind.

The painting reminded me of a large frame that held my mothers full body portrait. It hung above the grand fireplace in the ballroom. She looked so youthful and was leaned over a baby carriage. I always pictured myself in that carriage. I always thought I was the mysterious baby that laid hidden from the image. When in reality I was the true hidden baby. Even though my mother had a full secrecy and nobody knew she was the Kings mistress, she still couldn't line up her lies with the reason she had a daughter. "War killed him" "He was an adulterer" "Small pox" "the plague". Every single lie of her child's father.
I spent hours rustling around in the tight corset. Grunting and squirming as I tried to release myself from the tight cage. Why won't you come off you damn thing, I whispered under my breath. I talked to myself on occasion when there was no one else to talk to. I sucked in all of my stomach and held the air in my flustered cheeks. I slowly found my way down the laces and attempted to rip them off. From holding my breath for so long I became light headed and tilted over and fell on the bed. Once I got to the mattress I let go of my air and took a deep breath.
I laid there in misery. I kicked my legs in frustration like a child. My hands were raw from ripping at the stiff clothing. I covered my face with a pillow and screamed into it with all of my might. My face was red and warm, and looked like a rotten tomato. I had too much pride to ask the maids to come help me. After all, it's the maids fault I don't know how to take off a damn corset.
I lifted my body from the bed and looked around for a knife or maybe an envelope cutter. Please please please be something useful in here I said under my breath again. I moved over to the big dresser that was tucked in the corner of the yellow room. I searched the drawers frantically looking for something to release me from this agony. I suppose the man heard me because he stepped into my room on the way to the library. "What are you doing?" He asked as he leaned into the room. I turned sharply and closed the drawers behind me. My actions made him even more suspicious and even more intrigued. "Are you looking for something?" He asked as he stepped into the middle of my room. I was breathing heavily, out of breath, as if my corset had gotten tighter from me fidgeting with it. I mustered up the courage to give him a truthful answer, and to swallow my pride.
I sighed and began to speak, "No. I'm just trying to get this corset the hell off of me.". I began fidgeting with it again to show my distress. He chuckled at me and began to step towards me. I pushed myself up against the dresser not wanting him to come any closer. But it was too late he had already stood right in front of my face. He spun me around and pushed me against the dresser. This is it...the moment he rapes me. I clenched my eyelids as tight as they could go and stayed stiff.
The man began to untie my corset and release its clutch on my ribs. I opened my eyes and blinked twice in confusion. I was so sure we was going to do it in the time of my venerability. My ribs widened and I breathed slowly as if it was my first time. I held my ribs and rubbed my back as it was still In pain. I turned my body to the mirror that was perched on the dresser, and saw the black and blue bruises that ran along my ribs and up and down my spine. I could see them so clearly through my nightgown that was almost see through.
The man noticed my bruises and looked at them in the mirror with me from a distance. At the moment he looked human, like he actually cared about something other than himself. I turned as I caught him staring at them like they were lashes from a flogging. He looked away quickly like he didn't want to be caught caring. "Leave now, I don't need you anymore" I said carelessly. I sounded so cruel but I did not feel remorse for him, for he did not feel any for me. The Bible states treat others the way you want to be treated, I believed in that verse but at that moment I was not following my religion, I was following my hate for him.
I turned away from him as he stood frozen from my words. As if he expected a thank you from me, I believed him to be stupider than me. I continued to look in the mirror at my bruises and touch them to see if they would bother me. I winced in pain at most of them but the others were already yellow. The man scoffed at me and slapped his palms on his thigh as in why does he even try. He shuts the door behind him and leaves the room. He is such a child, I said to myself. And began to braid my hair for bed.