A Truelove of Turtle Doves

Chpt 36 - Explain It All

I didn't stop screaming, shouting, crying and thrashing.

Not when we got into the carriage.

Not when we entered the house.

Not when several maids attempted to clean up my wounds.

Not when I was locked in my room.

I threw chairs and books and other hard objects at the door, I banged on it with my fists until they were bruised, and I even tried to open (and when that didn't work, break) my windows. Nothing worked. Everything was locked.

I don't know how long had passed, but I didn't stop until my throat was too sore to use, until I had no more tears to shed, and until every part of body ached too much for me to use.

And then, I settled into a forlorn silence.

This was it.

It was all over.

I'd lost him.

The thought made me feel like my heart was being ripped out of my chest and smashed into a million pieces. My lungs constricted so much that I could barely breathe. I couldn't think properly; it felt like a storm was rushing through my brain, roaring through it.

I couldn't lose him.

I needed him.

Another sob left me, but it was strangled and no tears fell with it.

I paced the room, occasional sobs and screams tearing their way out of my body and rippling through the air around me. They kept coming and I kept pacing, even when my legs grew heavy and tired and sore. But the heartbreaking noises eventually died out, leaving nothing but a weighted silence which was only pierced with the sound of my footsteps.

Eventually, I stopped pacing. I curled into a ball, pressed myself into a corner of my room, and let the silence grow. It grew more stifling, more melancholy, to the point where I wanted to scream again. But I didn't have the energy too. I also didn't have a calm enough mind to go to sleep.

So I sat there, in a tormented state between wakefulness and sleep.

The silence stretched out for an ungodly amount of time until I heard voices on the other side of the door.

A lock clicked.

Despite everything in me humming with pain, I shot to my feet, prepared to fight whoever walked through that door next.

It was Josie.

All tension and all will to fight left me just as quickly as it had arrived as the door closed behind her. As it was locked from the outside. As I caught sight of her sorrowful and apologetic expression.

A fresh wave of tears hit me.

"Josie," was the only word I managed, my voice broken, as more sobs left me, this time accompanied by streams of tears.

Her arms were around me immediately as we both fell to our knees, which was mostly due to my inability to support myself. She muttered gentle words of comfort while rubbing my back, rocking back and forth ever so slightly, like a mother might do to calm a baby.

It didn't matter what she said though. Francis was still gone. He was still beyond my reach.

She could say anything, but it wouldn't take away the fact that I wasn't going to see him again. That I'd lost him.

I cried until the only reason I couldn't cry was because I was exhausted. Mentally, emotionally, and physically exhausted.

A silence settled over us, coating us with a thick sense of heartbreak, so thick that you could cut it with a knife.