TWENTY-TWO

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CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO: His Fault

THOMAS DIDN'T COME TO BED THAT MORNING.

Tabitha didn't sleep alone though, but lovingly did embracing her daughter. Thomas had a meeting with Mosley, Diana, and Mr Jack Nelson after his wife and daughter went to bed. He had been up all night, typing up all the events of the meeting. Besides, he knew his wife wasn't in the mood to see him after what he did.

Tabitha awoke early the next morning without the presence of her daughter. Maggie had woken before her mother and started her studies with her tutor. Still, Tabitha was consumed with sadness waking up alone, reminded once again that her son was gone.

The Shelby woman got dress in her mourning attire. She looked in the mirror, used to seeing her eyes stay red and puffy from the endless amount of tears she shed. She looked at herself in deep hatred, reminding herself about her curse. It was worse when she had hallucinations of Grace and those who long passed on.

The morning started out usual. Tabitha sat alone at the dining table, barely eating her breakfast. Then she picked up the morning mail from Francis. As she sorted through the mail, Tabitha saw that there was a small letter for Thomas. It was a letter from the senior consultant of the Sanatorium. Seeing it, Tabitha went to find Thomas in the room he spent most time in.

Tabitha quietly entered the study. Thomas was sitting at his desk, typing away on a typewriter. Not just any typewriter, but a present Thomas got Tabitha after their wedding. Something to make her more presentable as a woman in the community. Tabitha couldn't help but give a soft smile as she quietly approached her husband.

"That's the same typewriter you bought me all those years ago. To help me become respectable," Tabitha said. "Do you remember?"

"Yeah," Thomas answered softly, not lifting his eyes.

"This arrived." She put the small letter on his desk. "It's from the sanatorium."

"I've already paid Charlie's medical bills," he shortly dismissed.

"I don't think it's a bill. It says it's urgent. It's from the senior consultant."

"Hmm."

Thomas said nothing else, continuing to type. It started to annoy Tabitha that he wouldn't look at her.

"Why didn't you come to bed?" She asked quietly. The second time was louder and more direct. "Why didn't you come to bed?"

"I'm typing up my recollection of the
meeting," Thomas explained. "If I...if I do it straight away, I can quote people word for word. The information is more...useful to Mr Churchill if it is word for word."

Tabitha gave a shirt nod before turning her head to the fireplace. Outside of the fireplace was a child's chair, burnt and missing two of its legs. Some of the paint still remained. Tabitha's eyes swelled with tears and she covered her mouth. Thomas followed her gaze and then looked at the ground and sighed

"I burnt her chair," Thomas spoke. "The paint on the wood left a smell in the air. I didn't open the window. I quite like the smell."

He continued to speak but it only made it worse for Tabitha to hold back the tears. She looked out the window, turned away from her husband. Her hands intertwined as they resting over her heart. She began to softly sob, the sound entering the silence room.

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