Memoir of a Trapped Housewife

Chapter Three {Searching}

           

Chapter Three

Searching

            I awoke in the morning sprawled on the hard, wooden floor. The position in which I lay was similar to that of a bird that falls from its nest. They lay awkwardly on the ground, unnerved by the recent change of events and unsure of how they'll make it back to the nest.

            My sentiments were the same; I was too scared to even ponder the future for fear that it would hold more weakening blows. Additional pain or another despairing event would have sent me to my knees. I needed to recover, to find out what was going on.

            When I sat up my head felt suddenly shattered by a million pieces of shrapnel. I groaned and bit the inside of my cheek to stifle the monstrous sensation. Crawling, because I couldn't bear to stand, I moved towards the nightstand the intruder had pilfered.

            Opening it, I stared inside and found it virtually empty. The only article that remained was a minute-sized notepad. Despite the fact it was void of telltale writing, I picked it up and sat on the edge of the bed. The tips of my fingers traced across the first sheet of vanilla paper and felt the imprint of a pencil's writing. Triumphant, I turned to the morning light streaming into the room and warming my chilled flesh.

            To this light I raised the paper and confirmed what I suspected. The sheet with writing on this notepad had been stolen, but the imprint of the previous words remained. Eager to discover what those words were, I raided the room in search of a pencil.

            Once I obtained one I shaded the paper softly with its tip, revealing the words hidden in the background.

The pad read;

12 April 1954

Dear Bernadette,

            This morning I was walking to the factory from the inn when two men starting following me. I've never seen them before, and their suits were too expensive to suggest that they were from this little town. Bernadette, they had guns and I truly believe these men were hired to kill me.

            I ran until I lost them, but I can still feel their presence in my spine. They are somewhere, waiting for me. I cry as I write this; but I don't think I have much time left.

            I've purchased a ticket on the next bus heading out of here. Please Bernadette, cancel your plans to come here. I'm sorry to do this but I promise you, the danger here is unlike anything back home. Pray I make it to you safely, because I'm coming home. I should be there in five days and if I'm not, well... oh I can't bear to write it!

            I love you so much sister, and I'm sorry I blundered our chance at freedom. I blame love. Oh if I hadn't fallen in love! Never trust it sister; it leads to hell.

Apologetically,

Sable.

My eyes devoured the unsent letter, and when I reached the end dribbles of water ran down my sallow cheeks.

"Sable, what did you do? What did you do?"

The date of the letter was the twelfth of April- today was the third of May. Exactly two weeks passed since she wrote this. It was simply impossible that a five day journey could have lasted that long.

I could only suspect that the worst occurred. My soft, humorous, twenty-three year old sister vanished from this world for reasons I did not know. Hell would have to consume my obstinate, tenacious, twenty-two year old self before I would cease from trying to find out.