𝐁𝐀𝐆 𝐎𝐅 𝐁𝐎𝐍𝐄𝐒 | mercy on me, would you please spare me tonight.
In a different life, Tabitha Ventrix would've been the purest of angels, harmless to anyone.
In reality, she was nothing of the sort; a weapon against the world. She wasn't a...
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we tried the world; good god it wasn't for us. ━━━━━ CHAPTER FOUR, the fourth step in tabitha ventrix's downfall.
OCTOBER 24, 1929 CAME AND WENT. What became known as Black Thursday was a disaster waiting to happen. Black Tuesday came and went, as well, another moronic tragedy.
(At least, that's what Tabitha thought.)
She kept both of her jobs, except being paid considerably less than she was before (which was saying something, seeing as how she barely got paid in the first place). She still worked at Grove Lighter and she hasn't been laid off from her waitress job (yet). Tabitha was tired, even more so because she stayed extra hours on the off-chance that she would get paid. Mr. Bradbury usually tried to send her home on the daily, and so did Ray, but they never succeeded. If anything, she stayed longer just to spite them.
Speaking of Raymond Miller, Tabitha and him had gotten exceptionally closer during their time together (in the months before her demise). From October, 1929, to December 1931, the two adults (Tabitha thinks she's an adult, but doesn't know for sure) bonded over Ray unknowingly showing Tabitha the ropes of the New York life.
Ray frequented Tabitha's apartment and Grove Lighter. He walked her home and they had dinner together most nights, if Ray didn't have to get back to work. Which was exactly what the couple was doing on March 10, 1930.
"You know what's weird?" Tabitha spoke, pausing only to chew the mashed potatoes, waving her fork around. Ray looked up and hummed in response. Tabitha swallowed and went on, "How fast everything is passing. It feels just like yesterday I immigrated here from Europe and got a job with Mr. Bradbury, you know?"
Ray nodded in thought. It did feel like that, since they only met October 23, 1929, and now it was March 10, 1930. "I suppose it has," he paused and looked up to meet Tabitha's gaze, "but I'm glad to have met you." Tabitha smiled in response, a smile that reached her eyes. It seemed as if Ray was the only one who could make her smile like that, a full, real, genuine smile; one that on-lookers could only describe as love-struck—she herself would deny it, but people who see her and Ray often (say, oh, I don't know, Mr. Bradubury) would laugh and smile and say: "Anything for you two?" in that tone of voice that said: Anything for you two, love-struck young adults, that have their future ahead of them in the other's hands, with your hands tied together with that fateful red string; anything for you two?—Tabitha denies any accusations and responds only with, "Nothing for me," with a secretive smile and a wink. (And you may ask, why be secretive? Well, it's simply because she would rather have something all to herself and have no one be able to look in through the window of her rose-colored life.
"You flatter me," Tabitha waved Ray off with her free hand and got up to put her plate in the sink. Ray smiled at her, an unusual sight for someone who doesn't know him to see. This smile was reserved for Tabitha and Tabitha only; a smile that reached his eyes and was oddly genuine, no sign of mischief or any sort of misgiving intentions; if Mr. Bradbury were there, or any of his colleagues that he saw on the daily, they would relentlessly tease him and never let him live down how love-struck he truly is. And, he will admit, he's never felt this way about someone the way he feels about Tabitha. If Tabitha were to turn around from the sink right now, she would see him looking at her with stars in his eyes, as if the whole galaxy was within her soul. Alas, she never did, and never saw how he looked at her with rose-colored glasses into her rose-colored life.
In her rose-colored life, Tabitha had to wake up at 8AM every Saturday in order to have time to do all of her chores. This was unwanted by her, obviously. However: "Darling, you need to wake up," was softly spoken in her ear as she frowned and pushed him away. Rose-colored life be damned, she valued her sleep.
Sleep became something Tabitha learned to love, after she spent her childhood (if you could call it that) hating the concept. She learned to love sleep after Ray convinced her it was needed. She still didn't want to, and so they compromised: Tabitha would sleep only if Ray slept next to her and woke her up in the morning. This was their routine; he was basically moved in by the time December, 1931, came around.
Christmas of 1931 was as normal as any other day. Tabitha didn't have work, though she stopped into Grove Lighter to visit Mr. Bradbury, who lived above the store. She made her way to Ray's apartment complex, and the couple spent their day together. Ray gave Tabitha, his Tabitha, the look he reserved only for her as the night came to an end; she understood that Ray had to get back to his parents, who were in town for the holiday season. Tabitha gave Ray, her Ray, the look she reserved only for him as she walked him to the door. The two young adults faced each other and smiled, Ray tucking a strand of hair behind Tabitha's ear.
They spoke in whispers, as if they were afraid of someone coming out of their apartment and hearing what they were saying. They said their goodbyes and before Tabitha could turn to walk back into the safety of her apartment, Ray reached over and gave Tabitha, his Tabitha, a goodbye kiss; the kiss was searing, the end-all-be-all kiss to keep in your memory for as long as your memory lasts; it sealed the goodbyes they didn't have time to tell, the sorry's and thank you's and you're welcome's breaking through the shells of people Raymond Miller and Tabitha Ventrix were. And as Raymond Miller walked away and Tabitha touched her lips, the place where his had been just moments before, he smiled.
