I leave the guild and begin heading east. My house is actually to the west, but I make sure to take as long as I can to get home to avoid interacting with him. I feel a wave of dread wash over me, just picturing his face. He's rather handsome, unfortunately, which may be one of the reasons for my predicament. I walk by the baker and stop to chat.
"Ashley, I just finished some pastries. Would you like some?"
"I don't have any money; I'm sorry."
"That's fine. I'll let you have one for free this time; how about that?" he asks while giving me a wink. I flash a smile and hesitate to answer. It feels wrong to take something for free like that.
"Richard? Are you giving food away again? Oh, Ashley! What's the matter, darling? Here, take this one It's on the house." The baker's wife wraps a fruit-filled pastry in a large leaf and places my hands around it. The couple both smile at me without asking anything in return. I feel my heart drop and my eyes water as I beat a hasty retreat.
"Come again, deary." She yells after me. I run around the corner and fight back the tears threatening to fall down my face. Covering my eyes with my free hand, I take a second to compose myself.
"Are you okay, ma'am?"
"I'm fine," I respond on reflex and flash a practiced smile.
"…" A man looks at me with kind eyes but remains silent.
"Really, I just had a bad day," I say unconvincingly.
"Okay, well, I hope things work out for you."
"Thank you." He leaves while glancing back at me with a concerned expression a couple of times before he's out of sight. I let out a sigh and relax my face.
Hold it together. You don't need to keep bothering these kind people.
I pull at my face and take a deep breath. The pastry in my right hand flashes past my vision. The strong fruity smell fills my nostrils and invites me to take a bite. I oblige the warm confection and have a taste. The sweet flavor fills my mouth, which helps distract me from the soreness of my features as I've been holding back so many conflicting emotions. I barely taste the pastry anymore as I take the last bite.
Sniff
You have more people supporting you than you think; you shouldn't let him deceive you into thinking you're all alone.
The child's words race through my mind as I peer into the vibrant sky.
This is the first day of the rest of your life. You need to grasp this chance.
I reaffirm my conviction and continue my stroll. The last few years roll across my mind as I meander through the streets. I can feel every wound he has inflicted upon me. I can hear every hateful word he has poured into me. Before I know it, I stumble upon the red-light district. The seducers make an early appearance outside the brothels and motion to anyone passing by.
I wonder if I would have been better off as a whore?
I empathize with the women slowly streaming out of the buildings under the twilight of dusk. Their loose, semi-transparent clothes struggle to cover their ample bosoms. I look down at my assets.
Are these the cause of all my problems? Would I have even left my village if it wasn't for my figure? What am I?
I feel at the useless lumps of fat attached to my chest that have done nothing but cause me pain. Now that I'm conscious of it, I notice the sore muscles along my spine. I stretch out the kinks in my back and turn toward the brothels once again. Some of the girls are terribly young, left out as prey for the predators walking the street. I can see the fear in their eyes as they hide behind the more experienced workers.
Am I any different from them? He's been taking most of my paycheck, saying that I need to pay my share. I'm just a whore, but I have even less freedom than these children.
I shake off the negative thoughts circling my mind and keep moving. If I don't make it home in time, he's sure to hit me. He makes me cook dinner every night at the same time. My legs tremble at the thought of being late. I can't even enjoy my cooking because he'll get angry if I too much for myself. I can already hear him yelling at me for wasting his money.
He's always pressing me about our finances. I work every extra shift I can get, but it's never enough. I'll always be a burden on the people around me. Maybe I should give up on running away and just stay here.
I can feel his brainwashing, fighting to maintain control. My legs start running on their own. I don't know what I'm running from or towards, but I keep running. Each step I take, I can feel it approaching me. The darkness consuming the ground behind me is nipping at my heels.
"STOOOOP!" I yell at nothing. No one is near enough to hear my cries. I grab my chest and calm my ragged breathing. My house is just around the corner. I must remain calm when I get home, so I don't raise his suspicions.
The tea shop near my house is closed. I like to kill time there on my way home if I get off early. It's a quaint little shop run by an old widow who always calls me dear.
"Would you like another cup, dear?"
"No, I'm fine, thank you."
"Oh, there's no charge," she would say as she filled my cup. I always had the feeling that she knew what I was thinking, that she knew what I was going through and that she had been through something similar. We both took comfort in each other's presence. Just having other people around is enough to inspire hope.
Turning away from the tea shop, I face the door to my house. I can't count how many hours I've spent staring at this pitiful wooden door. Every crack and crevice has been etched into my mind. I grab the door handle but hesitate to go inside.
Once I open this door, it's all over. There's no going back.
Isabella offered to walk me home to make sure I'd be okay, but I declined. There's no way I could endanger someone as kind as her. I have to face this demon alone. Whether or not I created it, it's one I have to vanquish alone. I gather all the courage I can muster and turn the knob.
The house is dimly lit. These pale, dirty walls have been my prison for several years. I make my way to the kitchen.
"You're late."
"I'm sorry, I got lost on the way home."
"You got lost again? You really are stupid. I can't believe you figured out how to chew your food. Worthless." I swallow the frog in my throat and make my way to the kitchen.
"You better have dinner ready soon. I'm hungry."
"I'll have it ready soon, dear."
"That's what I thought." He insists on having me call him dear or honey. I die a little inside every time those words leave my lips.
I wonder if he knows how bad it hurts when I say that. Does he think he's in the right? Does he know how evil he is? Has he planned this all from the beginning?