Ruth: Reimagined

Eat

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Eat
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Three days. It had been three miserable  days since Ruth locked herself up in her chambers. She refused to eat, talk, or open the door.

Ruth lay on her bed, in utter despair. Her  eyes were red, her cheeks marked with dried tears, and her mouth stark dry. She still had on the white sheath dress her mother gifted her with.

“You'll be getting married in twenty days.”

The knocking on the door was back, slower, with less force than before. Slowly, she got up from the bed, her bones weighing her done, the dizziness not as intense as day two.

“Ruth,” her father's voice spoke from the other side of the door. “ Ruth, my love, please open the door and eat something. Or at least take the food, please. I only want you to eat.”

“I don't want to talk to you.” Ruth said, for the millionth time, her voice having lost all its strength. “I don't want to talk to you or anyone. I don't want to eat anything. I'm not hungry.” The gnawing feeling in her stomach tightened. 

“ I want my mother.” Her voice broke. “Where is my mother? That's the only person I'll talk to.”

She heard the sigh that tore out of her father's lips as well as his footsteps as he walked away. Hitting her fist on the door, frustrated, she cried. She slid down her door. No tears escaped her eyes. They had all run dry. It was a raw, dry cry that left her drained on the verge of fainting.

On the first day, it was easier. She had more fight in her, refusing the food without even a second thought, yelling that she wanted to talk to no one but her mother. Even as her father tried to break down the door, she kept her guard on, refusing, crying.

“I will not marry the King!”

The second day, her father came to check if she was still alive, if she hadn't harmed herself asking her questions like, if she was alright or if she was bleeding. Again, he tried to break down the door, but it was built in with the hardest material, almost unbreakable. 

She slipped into sleep and woke up with a headache.  Her body was weak. She felt dizzy every time she stood.

In the present time, it was easier to hold on. It is easier to ignore the gnawing feeling in her stomach. She was still weak, her body, emotions, and spirit drained, but she would endure until her mother came.

I hope you're okay, Mother. The worry creeped  into Ruth's heart, but she tried to pay it no mind.

“Mother,” she called out, desperate.  “Mother please, come for me.”

~🍁~

Adira’s eyes shot open. At first, it felt like the ceiling would  fall  on her. When she sat up, taking the surroundings of her room, unexplainable dread settled over her heart. Something she'd never  felt before, then her husband, Barak, stepped into the chambers.

He hadn't  noticed her yet. There was a strain by his brows as he mumbled words under his breath.

“Barak.”

When he lifted up his eyes and held the gaze of his wife, he froze. For a while, he said nothing, his heart pounding against his chest, waiting.

“Could you get me a glass of water, I'm thirsty.”

Adira rubbed her temples with her fingers, missing the relief that broke forth on her husband's face. Quickly, he ran out to get her a glass of water, and when he came back, she smiled at the sight of him, drinking the water, as the peaceful silence settled between them.