Red Thread of Hate

Little SupRice?

“A good wife should clean the house to make it suitable for living in for her husband.”

Well, you found yourself a new thing to do.

You didn't have anything else to do anyway, so you thought that another day would be another attempt at implementing one of the rules on the list. You thought that you wouldn't jump into the deep end and just do something as simple as cleaning. It sounded easy, it was a common thing, and you had done it before. That is, not that you were a pedantic, in general you were rather one of those people who put garbage under the carpet and pretended that everything was clean. But oh well, you've decided that you can handle taking care of the house.

Then you planned to text this Blitzo with a silent "o" in his name to see how he was doing and if he wanted to talk at all or was it just a one-off meeting? You had this strange habit, maybe idiotic, but you couldn't get rid of it. It was a sincere hope that the person you just met wanted to talk to you and not just dismiss you with a text saying "you'll talk later.” You have learned in life that you should not hope for such things, because despite everything, despite great intentions, people ignore others. But you didn't give up that easily, after all, if someone ignored you, it meant you had to try harder, right? Of course you can always do better.
In the morning, when you woke up, you saw messages on your phone screen in the group you had with your three friends. Despite the whole situation, it cheered you up a little when you saw that someone was worried about you, but you replied that everything was fine, not wanting to take up their time. What else would you say? You were in a hopeless place, but after all, every nightmare ends. You weren't sure how to wake up yet, but sooner or later you would.

Or at least you hoped so.

Half of the day from morning to 2 p.m. was the better half, because it was the time when Alastor worked. So you had the house to yourself and could pretty much do whatever you wanted with the idea that you should cover up your actions before he came back. You weren't sure if things like your baking attempts would be looked down upon and criticized by him, but you didn't feel like listening to his critical comments. Besides, you were skilled at covering your tracks, so now your skills just needed a bit of brushing up, and you figured it wouldn't be that hard to get into that mode. But you still didn't feel like doing anything that involved, well, anything, so you just decided to mop up the dust.

So in the morning, after you made yourself a sandwich for breakfast, using what you had at home, but also not taking enough for Alastor to notice, you decided to do something. You moved around your quiet house with a cloth and thoroughly wiped down every piece of furniture, starting with the kitchen. The sun was shining through the windows, illuminating the dust particles that floated with every move you made, and you persistently ran the cloth over the countertop and the cabinet doors. You had no experience in cleaning and physical work, so after about an hour your back started to hurt from being bent over, and after an hour and a half you felt pain in your knees from kneeling. You cursed your lack of physical condition because you got tired quickly, not being used to doing anything other than sitting. Well, if you were to look for positives, you thought that you would probably lose weight because of this marriage.

At least that's what's good about this circus.

When you finished cleaning the kitchen and living room, you plopped down tiredly on the couch with a sigh.

There was an hour left until 2 p.m. and you knew you had to do something, anything, towards dinner. But what were you supposed to do? Burn down the fucking kitchen? Waste ingredients that were given to you for free?

You stood up and walked over to the fridge, then opened the door to look inside, and the light shone on, greeting you. Far too many thoughts were rushing through your head. The sight of fresh vegetables, fruit, meat, dairy products and a mixture of thoughts overwhelmed you, and you would think that no one has ever felt this way when looking at food. Of course you should do something, not because of being a woman and now a wife, but just because of being an adult. But what were you supposed to do? When you wanted to make dinner while you were alive, it ended with a charred pot, a screaming alarm and a visit from the fire brigade. Even now, the pungent smell of burnt food could overtake you suddenly, reminding you that you had almost destroyed your first home with your own hands.