Beyond the Green

32

Let's do double update Saturday this week too! 

Sitting at the kitchen table, I stared numbly at my hands. Gone was the cultured appearance of a refined southern belle. They were filthy, coated with dirt and blood. Naturally hard, my nails had grown long, resembling talons more than fingernails.

The hard metal cuffs had chaffed at my wrists until they bled, the same with the heavy metal rings around my neck and ankles. It was hard to remember when I wasn't dirty, frightened, and on edge. Anger was a constant companion that sat like a coiled snake in the pit of my stomach.

True to his word Gaines had kept up steady unending gentleness, his advances persistently soft. To fight back, to avoid succumbing, I had taken to violence. Whenever he came near me, I struck out. It took deliberate thought, and sharp focus to never let my guard down. The payoff was exhaustion, but I still had my virtue.

I fueled my anger with memories of Dell and Nolan. It wasn't hard. My mind's eye conjured vivid images of how I'd last seen them, their bodies limp and bloody. Torn from this world by a maggot that was not fit to crawl in their shadows. Bile rose in my throat, but I swallowed hard, sitting motionless.

Gaines had already gone, having taken his horse early this morning and riding out. As usual, he did not tell me where he was going, or when to expect him back. I got the sense he was trying to make me dependent on him, but so far, I had not asked. What did I care if he never returned?

With so little in the shack, he was probably out hunting for food. Or maybe he meant to go to the nearest supply depot. All I had seen in the last two days was a half full jug of corn whiskey, and I hadn't eaten. A small part of me wished that he was gone for good, abandoning me to starve to death, but I knew I was not that fortunate. He would be back, and then it would start all over again.

Picking at the wood on the table with a fingernail, I pried loose a splinter then flicked it away. Boredom was deadly, as my mind began to wander, called to happier times. I yearned for them, dreamed of them...closing my eyes for a brief moment, I gave in.

Papa's face loomed before my eyes, his dark hair wild and curly like mine, his accent thick and soothing. Mamma's face was harder to remember, but I could hear her laugh, sweet and musical, as she brushed my hair smooth. I missed my parents. Their deaths left a void behind that ached so badly at times I thought I would die.

Meeting Dell had lessened the pain, his subtle, warm affection helping me focus on living. After he died, the ache returned, more powerfully. Cousin Beatrice had helped me soothe that sorrow. I had begun to feel at ease, to think that life would grow bright again, like it was before everything had gone so terribly wrong. Her sudden departure had stunned me and left me reeling.

Broken too many times, the fragile crystal of my heart threatened to shatter. Marrying Nolan Tyler had done me no favors at first, and I felt myself lost and adrift. Over time that too had changed. I began to see my husband through different eyes, and he'd brought joy back into my life. Thinking back, I could not say when it was that I knew I was in love with him. The borders of my world were contentment, joy, and safety. His death had fractured everything I knew, allowing harsh reality in and I sighed heavily.

No one knew where I was, and I assumed that few would even give it more than a passing thought. I was on my own, fighting a desperate battle for my soul with a sadistic monster who was trying to break my mind to have my body. Prying loose another splinter from the table I rolled it between my fingers. I could beat him at his own game. I could find a way to end it, taking myself out of the picture.

The thought didn't stay long. There was plenty that I could do to kill myself, but death was not my aim. My dying would mean his victory. I meant to live, which meant Gaines had to die. Storm clouds were gathering inside me, each encounter leaving me a little angrier, a little more hateful.