The wind seemed to howl against the old glass of her mother's home. It was November 16th, 2030. Her children were at school, her husband at work. Just the thought of him made her skin crawl. The thought of the house haunted her. Sarah went over every detail in that cage. Her degrees shoved into her drawers; her young children's contacts shoved into the depths of their clothing drawers. Every little thing- every trace of her and her faults must be hidden from view. It was the only way she kept herself from plummeting into a dark void.
Her children were getting older, and it started to pain Sarah. Emma was already 10 years old, with Alex following behind at 8, and Willow and Sammy being 6.
When she thought about her children, the same sense of dread and happiness followed suit every time. Only now, with her body being damaged more than its been in her entire life, did she feel some kind of anger.
She stood across the room from her mother. 11 years of marriage began to make Sarah bitter, which almost drove her mother to not recognize her. When Astrid stared at her- with confusion instead of familiarity- Sarah could feel herself breaking- like the pounds of his fists against her flesh were finally cracking her, threatening to tear her apart piece by piece.
Sarah was angry, she could feel it in the way she tried to breathe steadily, her bruised ribs rubbing up against her flesh, causing her breath to be cut short. She couldn't eat, the terror was too much and it'd make her throw up. Every meal she began to skip, noticing how she could feel bone, her cheeks beginning to sink. She felt like the bag of old rotting corpse, and the way her mother looked at her didn't help.
"They found out..." Sarah muttered, watching her mother's shaky hands as she stirred the sugar into her coffee. Her mother was only 31 years older than her, but it seemed to span a century. Sarah could tell her mother was insecure about how she was aging. How, at only 60 years old, it seemed like she was about to collapse and pass. Her trembling seemed to worsen the more Sarah saw her, but as time continued on, Sarah could care less.
"I know... Sarah." Her mother said, her voice hoarse with age. She couldn't look up from her coffee, the small spoon in her hand trembling, coffee dripping onto the napkin besides her. Sarah stood there, trying to breathe without the pain. Maybe it was the fact that her mother saw the bruises and the marks on her body that made her shy away in pity-or maybe even guilt.
Sarah was dying to know if it affected her mother as much as it did her. It was an almost daily reminder that she came from nothing and would continue to be nothing. For all those months she wanted to rip out her framed diploma and show what she accomplished and what she would continue to try and accomplish. But she knew it was no use. Oliver saw her as nothing but a device for him now, and she couldn't come back from that reputation.
"Did your benefits stop?" Sarah asked, trembling. Astrid paused, taking a shallow breath.
"Yes."
"Is that how you found out?" Her questions were quick and sharp, almost giving the impression that her answers weren't as important as the questions. Astrid nodded silently. It was the silence that made her ears ring, and her body ache. It was the silence that she fought so hard to keep as Oliver threatened her, mocked her, beat her. His voice would echo every night in her dreams. She couldn't have a good nights rest, not while she was being hunted down by what she was married to; this mistake that she couldn't have prevented.
Sarah shook, trembled, staring off into the distances. She began wearing long sleeves no matter the weather, too afraid to show off the black marks and scars that began to accumulate on her flesh. The thought of the pain was too big for her to keep quiet every single night. After she'd take her children's contacts out, she'd sob quietly in the bathroom. No one ever caught her, and she was allowed those moments alone in peace where she'd sob silently, muting her scream with such strength that her head began to pound every night before bed. She was shivering, shaking her head as she stared just above her mother's head; staring her right in the eyes too painful to endure.
YOU ARE READING
The Grean Household
Romance"It was a mistake..." She told her mother, folding her hands into each other. "Marrying him..." Her mother said nothing, she simply sat there as her only daughter stood across from her, on the verge of collapsing from bruised ribs and cracked shins...
