(A Silent Whisper) Collection of One-shots

a sense of betrayal

Phase One

My letter arrived, white and stamped with a red wax.
I smiled, slowly opening it up, seeing her initials on the back of the card. I opened it, but as soon as I read those words,
My eyes widened, and my lips parted in shock.
My heart dropped, and my hands trembled, dropping the card on the ground. Tears welled up in my eyes, and my chin shook as my bottom lip found its way between my teeth.
It’s better this way, right?
He would never love me like that anyways…
(5 years ago, 1804)

The room was quiet, and the sound of his slow, ragged breathing filled the office. I watched him from behind the door.
His hair fell past his eyes, his eyes so focused on the paper laying on the wooden desk.
A pen gripped into his hand, steadily thinking of what to write.
I took a step behind, trying to sneak away before he caught me.
But, as my body turned with the swift move of my feet, my hand knocked over a vase on the ground.
The water spilling on the floor, and the roses laying there.
His breath sharpened, and his head shot up.
“Deborah?” he asked, i turned my head, meeting his eyes.
“Yes?..” I said nervously.

(Present 1809)

Personally, i wouldn’t know the difference from teal and Aqua.
Even though i’ve never seen them up close, on a vibrant dress.
I was certain they looked alike. I saw them reading a book once, and my mother said ‘that was aqua.’ I was sure it was teal, but maybe I'm color blind.
Clarissa told me they were two, ‘extremely different things’
Clarissa…
I dreaded turning sixteen, I didn't want to be married.
At least not yet.
Clarissa wrote to me in her letter she’d be joining this year, so i wasn’t as bummed.
But, I would see him.
And as I thought of him, my gut started to knot.
And a pit of regret piled up.
A tear streaked down my cheek as I wiped it away with my sleeve, my hair falling over my face as I looked back down to the card. He’s so stupid, no, I'm so stupid.
This was idiotic. Why was I crying?..
There was one thing I knew, I was born eight years too late.
I chewed on my cheek and fought and fought.
But I gave up and threw it in the fire.
I regretted it right after. I hated it.
I wanted it back.
I wanted to hold the tattered paper in my hands, once again.
To read those unbearable words.
I stared at the flame over taking it, turning black.
Disappearing into ashes, and unreadable.