SONG RECOMMENDATIONS: LABOUR by Paris Paloma.
WARNING: EMOTIONAL ABUSE AND MANIPULATION.
The sounds of haughty laughter and pretentious giggles echoed through the walls as the master of the manor cracked a joke.
The gentleman leaning against the piano had an air of importance around him, a tall figure with slick blond hair and a charming smile that lit up his eyes.
The front doors banged open, letting in a spray of rain and cool air.
Their laughter ceased at the sight before them. The madam of the house stood in the doorway, haggard and filthy.
The two women in the small gathering gasped, clutching their fans against their lips.
"Mr. Julius, is your wife alright?" one of the men boldly asked.
This finally snapped Julius from his shock.
"Oh my… dearest, what happened to you?" He went to her side, holding her upright, disregarding the filth of her dead-orange garment and her drenched red hair, which clung unsightly to her face.
The guests' hearts warmed at the gesture.
Her body gave a slight tremble, and he called for a servant. "Get her a coat. Escort her to our room, please." She avoided his eyes as they handed her to the servant.
He turned to his guests. "If you would excuse me for a moment. My wife's habits of riding a horse know not the weather."
Someone laughed heartily. "What we do to please our wives. We'll leave you lovebirds alone."
Julius smiled gratefully and rushed after her.
Charlotte was shivering as she walked toward the bedroom door when she heard hurried footsteps behind her. She glanced back, then quickened her pace.
Julius ran after her, and she broke into a sprint, darting inside the room and closing the door. A slight struggle followed before the door was pushed open forcefully.
Julius stepped in, his charming smile still present, but a cold light gleamed in his eyes. He grabbed her arm in a bruising grip.
"Just what do you think you're doing?" he said through gritted teeth. She tried to pull away, but he tugged her closer.
"You did this to purposely shame me, didn't you?"
"It seems you have it covered," she winced at his tightening grip.
"You ungrateful hag! Have you forgotten that you only breathe this air of prestige because I gave it to you? Or have you forgotten your place so quickly?"
She clenched her lips and spat out, "Do I even have a place?"
He backed away from her, breathing heavily with rage.
"You couldn't even let me have today, knowing how important it is!"
Her fingers remained locked to fists as she glared at him.
"Over! Over! And OVER AGAIN!" He hit his fist against the wall behind. "You ruin everything! Everything I thrive for! For us! For this family!—"
"WHAT FAMILY!?" Her neck strained with veins as her eyes reddened from the welling tears. "What family do you even think you care for!?!"
Julius' brows twitched as his orbs slowly darkened to an eerie glint.
He began to step closer, forcing her feet to counteract—he slowly raised his hand towards her face.
Charlotte's eyes widened as her back hit the wall. Was he finally going to do it… Her eyes softened in fear. Was he finally going to inflict just as much pain as he had been causing her all this time?…
She shut her eyes.
His hand gently landed on the side of her face. "My darling Charlotte…" his fingers caressed her skin, as if a pungent mockery to bruises he inflicted on her soul far greater than his gentle touch.
"All I do is for you, my darling. So why do you punish me so?"
Her face scrunched in retching revolt and disdain.
"Is it perhaps…" His eyes narrowed deep into hers—appreciating the raw stained canvas of misery she bore within—as he leaned closer to add, "…Because of this?"
He raised a book in his hand.
Charlotte's eyes widened as she immediately grasped the sides of her attire, realizing her own sense of ignorance to his stealth and deceit.
A crease formed between his brows. "This is what made you defy me."
Her hand instinctively darted forth, only to grasp the air next to the book he lingered above her height.
"No! Give it back!" She lunged, but he blocked her.
"Not only do you defile and disrespect your husband's authority," he took a step away from her,
"But you lack the shred of decency as you grovel over the lust of another man. How far shameless can a mother be?!"
And with those words, Charlotte's eyes slitted in spite as a string in her heart snapped.
Her face failed in masking the disheveled emotions of her heart as she watched him with gaped lips.
"Is this truly what you'd wish your daughter to witness of you? The epitome of womanhood?… Imagine the shambles of her pride if she learns what her mother truly is?"
She knew exactly the implications of those words… Her vision blurred by the burning tears that threatened to fall.
Why wouldn't he just hit her?… Her fingers clutched into the side of her dress. Why wouldn't he choose to tame his tongue and inflict his frustration in the physical?
Her jaws clenched.
But yet he preferred this method; to break her with his words, to strip her of her dignity, yet still tell her he does all he does for the sake of their… family.
Marring her with wounds she could never show evidence of.
From the shadows of a doorway, someone watched with glossy eyes filled with hate.
"I do everything within my might to provide the best as any husband should!" He shook his head with a disapproving grimace. "Yet you repay my efforts in this marriage with mere disgust and disobedience."
He clutched the book in his hand as he let out a strained sigh. "I try my best to not retaliate your failure as a wife. But sometimes, you tie my hands beyond my control…"
He then turned to face the door, covering the distance with a few strides as he pulled it open to step out. "I hope you would take this time to reflect on why we are where we are now…"
And with those words, he shut the door in a hard swing.
"No! Don't do this! Let me out!" She darted to the door, throwing herself against the wooden barrier that kept her imprisoned.
Why did she cry? Why did she hope? It always ended the same. Couldn't she learn? He reveled in her pain and loved to see her break.
She sobbed into the door, tired of fighting, tired of it all.
It was in the latest hour of the night when the door creaked open. The candlelight streaming from the hallway illuminated her tattered form, limp at the foot of the bed and staring into nothing.
She looked like a lifeless doll. Dressed in the brightest and most luxurious items but was still a toy—owned by someone and to be used as pleased.
"Mama," the small shadow framing the doorway said softly.
The sweet sound of her girl child reverted through her being till she blinked and came alive like a puppet.
She slowly looked up to the doorway and willed her eyes to shine, a bitter smile plastered on her lips.
"Ember," her raspy voice croaked from all the crying. The wistfulness made the child run towards her mother.
"Mama!" She crashed into her mother's arms on the floor, holding her close like she could piece back her broken mother. Charlotte's heart broke. It was getting harder to pretend to be fine, to be strong.
She still had a long way to go. Ember was still a child.
"Mama is so sorry." That's all she'd been lately. It broke her that she had to be picked up some days. She was supposed to shield her from all this. To give her child a better life.
But she couldn't. She was a woman—who had nothing to her name no more.
"Please don't cry, Mama." She adhered to her child and cleaned her tears, smiling a brave smile.
"Here. You haven't eaten, have you?" her daughter picked up a plate of different food she no doubt stole from the kitchen to place it in her palm.
Charlotte sniffed. "Have you eaten, dear?"
"Yes, Mama. You always told me to eat regardless of anything. I did. We can't both be hungry." She giggled at her sentence, and her giggle warmed her heart.
It was in nights like this that her precious one reminded her of her strength. Ember—because she was to Charlotte, like a piece of glowing coal in a dying fire. Her mother's will and hope to live. Her reason to go on.
"Here." Ember brought a book that she hid under her nightgown and handed it to her mom.
Charlotte's spoon clanged to the plate when she saw it was the book Julius took from her earlier that day.
"Where did you get it?!" she said in alarm.
Ember pouted. "I took it."
She swore inside her. Her child acted more like an adult day by day. She only wanted for her to have the wonderment of a child—not the burden of an adult such as herself.
"Taking his keys is one thing, but you can't steal from his study. If he catches you—oh no, he didn't see you, did he?"
Ember hung her head. "It was not his, Mama. It's yours."
That stopped her in her tracks as she looked at her child's drooping face. "I thought it would make you happy, Mama…" she mumbled sadly.
Charlotte gathered her in her arms, holding her close and sniffing and inhaling the calming smell of her child. "It does, dear. It does. But never forget—you are my happiness, my precious spark."
Ember nodded and clung to her mother. She stared at the wall behind her mama, her happiness simmering to anger at the man who had caused her mother so much pain for as long as she could remember.
Their life wouldn't have come to this if that day hadn't happened.
She had just come back to her mansion from being cast aside by her parents when pounding started at the door. The maid uncloaking her startled.
"Lady Charlotte Orden, come out you abominable creature and face your crimes!"
Followed by a series of cries of witchcraft and witch. The man hadn't finished speaking when she turned on her maid. "Where is she?" The startled maid stammered, "I just put her down for a nap, my lady."
Her heart was pounding. No, this is wrong. They're here way too soon. She had heard of the rumors spread about her. Her young husband was deceased, she was now a widowed single mother and had been labeled a witch. One to bring misfortune on her husband, for he had died in a war that hadn't had many losses. Talking to the crowd bore no positive responses—they were stiff in their judgment.
She thought she had more time to pack up and leave this land. Start a new life with her child.
"No, no, no," she muttered. What was she to do? The mob never gave the accused a chance to deny or accept such claims. They would strip her and have her burned at the stakes. And what would become of her child?