When Freedom Had a Name
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A bittersweet slow-burn set in nineteenth-century England.
The year is 1885. A seventeen-year-old young man leaves his family home to begin life on his own terms. He heads to Liverpool, hoping that the vast port city and its thousands of unfamiliar faces will become a wellspring of inspiration. The unlikely saviour of his artistically unfulfilled soul proves to be a small tavern at the end of a street. Unspoken feelings, quiet tension, and a poet's restless passion draw him into a world where a single glance may alter the course of a life forever.
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English is not my mother toungue. For any language mistakes I make - I'm deeply sorry and don't hesitate to let me know!
All Rights Reserved
#11
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Valeria didn't rush. She never did. Inez was pinned beneath her, wrist locked overhead, the hold precise and impersonal. Not pain. Control. Inez scoffed anyway. "That's it?" she sneered. "I've had tutors scarier than you." Valeria said nothing. The silence pressed in. "You don't scare me," Inez added, louder. Brattier. "You just-" "Enough." One word. Flat. Final. Valeria lifted Inez's chin with two fingers, detached as a correction. "Look at me," she said coolly. "If you're going to embarrass yourself, do it properly." Inez laughed, brittle. "You think this makes you powerful?" "I don't think," Valeria replied. "I decide." Her gaze never wavered. "You provoke because it's the last control you have." "I don't belong to you," Inez snapped. Valeria leaned in, voice razor-thin. "You are my wife. You belong to consequences." She released her grip. "Say it." "No." Valeria waited. The quiet broke Inez, she hated being ignored. "...I'll behave, I'll be a good girl" Inez muttered. "Specify." Inez swallowed hard. "...I'll be your good girl" Valeria stepped back, already distant. "Good," she said. "Remember why." #1 older women-13th February (FAST PACE BOOK)
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