Iridescent: The Veil

3: Through Sickness and In Health

Xīn yí

I struggled to sit up, the pain shooting through my body with every movement. Tears welled up in my eyes as the events of last night flooded back into my mind. Charles, with his alcohol-laden breath and cruel hands, violated me in the most intimate way possible. The memory made me feel sick to my stomach.

I glanced around the room, hoping against hope that it had all been a terrible nightmare. But the reality of my situation hit me like a ton of bricks, and I felt the tears welling up in my eyes once again. The walls seemed to close in, suffocating me with their oppressive presence. I needed to get out of this place, away from Charles, away from the pain that seemed to follow me everywhere.

With trembling hands, I managed to untie the makeshift restraints around my wrists. The relief was immediate, but it was only a small respite from the agony that lingered in my body and soul.

Dragging myself out of bed, using the nearby furniture for support I stumbled towards the bathroom, my head spinning and my limbs heavy with exhaustion. The room spun around me, and I barely made it to the toilet before puking violently. Tears mingled with the bile as I emptied the contents of my stomach, feeling utterly miserable and alone.

Once the waves of nausea subsided, I washed my face and tried to steady my trembling hands. My body was wracked with fever, and I could feel the heat radiating off my skin. I knew I was sick, but I didn't want to stay in bed. Even the thought of that bed made my stomach turn. Charles would expect me to perform my duties as his wife, no matter how I felt.

Forcing myself to my feet, I wrapped a robe around my trembling form and made my way downstairs. Every step was a struggle, and I leaned heavily on the banister for support. The thought of facing Charles made bile rise in my throat once again, but I pushed it down, steeling myself for whatever came next.

As I entered the kitchen, I was met with the sight of Sean bustling about, preparing breakfast with a cheerful smile on his face. The contrast between his demeanor and my own misery was almost too much to bear.

"Good morning, Mrs," he greeted me, his voice warm and friendly. "I hope you slept well."

I mustered a weak smile in response, but it faltered as a wave of dizziness washed over me. Sean's smile faded as he noticed my pale complexion and the sheen of sweat on my brow.

"Are you okay?" he asks, concern evident in his voice.

I shook my head, unable to find the words to express the depth of my suffering. Sean's expression softened, and he approached me with a gentle hand on my forehead.

"It feels like you have a fever," he says softly. "You should lie down and rest."

I wanted to protest, to insist that I was fine and that I had to fulfill my duties as Charles's wife. But the truth was that I was barely able to stand, and the thought of facing Charles in my current state filled me with dread.

With Sean's help, I made my way back to my room and collapsed onto the bed, feeling utterly drained and defeated. Sean walked into the bathroom and returned with a wet cloth, which he placed upon my forehead.

"I'll go back downstairs and make you some soup. You just lay here and get some rest." Sean demands and exits the room. As I drifted into a fitful sleep, plagued by nightmares and feverish delirium, one thought echoed in my mind:

What kind of love allows for such suffering?

I drifted in and out of consciousness, the fever raging through my body like a wildfire. The sound of Sean's gentle footsteps echoed in the distance, a soothing melody amidst the chaos of my mind.