"How on Earth could you be so unbelievably stupid, " was the first thing I heard from my husband of one year, once we had both made our way into the foyer in out excessively lavish house. I turned to him, facing his six foot one and bulky figure, completely shocked by what he'd just screamed at me. We had spent all night at a party my husbands', Fredrick Campstein, work had thrown. The party had been a huge deal for him because he was up for a major promotion. My 'darling' husband had spent the last couple months telling her that tonight 'had to be perfect' because if the board of the high-profile energy company he worked for decided that they didn't like him, there was no way he'd ever become COO. I knew at least that this wasn't an exaggeration. No matter how much my father, Richard Lockriddle CEO of said energy company, pushed the board if they didn't like him then he wouldn't move from his current position. Because of this I had stayed silent the entire night, as her husband preferred, to avoid potentially damaging his chances. While I know that if he doesn't get the job he'll simply blame it on me anyway, I had learned quickly in my marriage that it was better to avoid giving him any sort of reason. Real or imagined.
"Fredrick, I didn't…" I started to explain before being cut off by my furious spouse when he angrily interjected,
"Didn't what Cassie, " he asked patronizingly while getting increasingly closer to me, I tried to remain calm while he continued, "didn't think? Well of course you weren't thinking. You never do". Fredrick's voice got increasingly louder the more he went on, so loud that if our neighbours were within earshot, they would have been able to hear the spit that was flying out of his mouth.
"Because if you had been thinking you would have spoken up when you were off talking to the board member's wives, instead of embarrassing and compromising me, by standing there like a statue." Fredrick paused to breathe and to note how I was reacting, taking in my gobsmacked expression before once again continuing his tirade, "that's right you stupid, frigid bitch, I heard what those prissy sluts were all talking about. I heard every complaint they made about their husbands. And more importantly I heard you fail to say should have told them how grateful you are to have found me. How do you think I look to them all that my own wife can't say anything nice about me," the last part had been screamed so loudly some of the words were slurred by how fast he was talking, but I managed to decipher it quickly.
I knew what conversation he was talking about and I just knew why I hadn't said anything, thinking it best not to disagree with any of these important people and have them go back to their husbands to tell them that I 'couldn't come up with a bad thing to say about Fredrick', I'd thought it the best approach considering it didn't require me to talk, nullifying the risk of me saying something wrong or committing some other sort of faux pas.
I'd barely opened my mouth, to try and explain all this, when faster than I could comprehend a hand came flying from my husband's side and right into the side off my face. The force of the unexpected blow sent me flying halfway across the room and into a sprawled heap against the opposite wall. With the whole left side of my face throbbing, I didn't dare move, knowing eye contact would only antagonize him.
"You better not have ruined things for me bitch, " was the last thing I heard Fredrick say, before I heard him climb the stairs. I waited until I heard him advance to the third floor and slam the door of his home office close, before I dared to move. I carefully picked myself up, acknowledging pain in my ribs, arms and legs in addition to my face before I made my way towards my bedroom. I knew better than to get any ice for my face, any dilution in the bruise tomorrow morning would result in at least another two hits.
As I silently opened and closed the door to my bedroom, I sighed in relief, knowing that his bad mood would cause him to likely sleep in the master bedroom that he'd claimed for himself. Because I had known even before the turn of events, that had occurred when we had gotten home, I wouldn't have had the energy to accommodate my husband tonight, and refusing to allow him to 'take his pleasure' had disastrous consequences, as I was well aware. I crawl into my bed, praying that my husband wouldn't invade my dreams as well that night.
I sweep back several small strands of my long ebony hair that have escaped the confines of the high bun it was twisted into, as I take my normal seat at the dinner table. A brief glimpse around the marble stoned walls that encased the smaller dining room my father preferred to use for intimate dinners revealed that I was the last of my family to arrive. My father, Lancelyn, with his blonde hair and almost grey eyes, sits at the head of the table. To the left of him is my mother Aelisia, who looks just as radiant as ever, reminding me why I had always wished that I had inherited her sleek brown hair and European features, like my eldest brother Reginaldus had. I looked to my fathers right to see that both Reg and my slightly older brother Domnicus, who in turn took after my father in appearance, were both looking at me curiously.
"What took you so long," Dom asked me when I sent him a questioning look. "Your usually the first to dinner.
Not wanting to reveal that I had again lost track of time in the library and get teased endlessly for my never-ending thirst for knowledge of Camelot as I usually was, I instead sent my brother a cheeky grin and said,
"I was trying to figure out what on Earth would cause Amelia to agree to your proposal Domnicus. She's a remarkably smart woman from a good family, with looks that have caused men to fall all over her since she was ten. Why on Earth she'd settle for you is beyond me." I said in a haughty voice with the most solemn look that I could muster.
Truth be told as Amelia was a good friend of mine, only a year older than myself, last month on her 21st birthday when she and Dom announced their impending wedding I was thrilled for them both ecstatic that I would finally have a sister. Dom narrows his eyes and goes to say something when my mother sends us both chiding looks, which causes him to immediately close his mouth again.
"Behave children," mother reprimands us both before looking at me "and while I agree that Lady Amelia could have whomever she likes as a groom, I rather think she would be happy settling for one of the Princes' of her kingdom, don't you Cassiopeia," she questioned mischievously. I nod my head acquiescingly, while Dom rolls his eyes and father and Reg chuckle.
"How go the preparations for Reg's 25th, birthday darling," father interjects when he turns to face mother, "I presume it will be as lovely as all the parties you and Cassie have thrown for Ebonia celebrations?"
Dom interrupts before neither Mother or myself can say anything, "hopefully you've invited some charming ladies. The only ones Red seems to attract are vapid and well generally horrible. Such is the curse of being Crown Prince I suppose."
Reg goes to say something for the first time since we sat down for dinner, not usually much of a talker as opposed to Dom who was as much of a joker as a court jester, but when he opened his mouth all that came out was a high-pitched screech. It was a horrible noise that was startlingly familiar, and for some reason I was the only one who reacted to it. When the noise burst out of my brother again, I recognised it. It was a doorbell.
I jerk awake in a moment and hear the same doorbell sound that interrupted my sleep. I shook off the confusion and strangeness that the dreams always caused me and bolted down the stairs while ignoring the pain that had grown since last night, barely remembering to grab a dressing gown first. I open the front door to reveal the one person I hated to see more than my husband. My father, Richard Lockriddle. As the tall, burly man that he was, I had to angle my neck up in order to make eye contact. He sneered at me after looking me up and down, likely displeased with my entire appearance and pushed past me into the house. I follow him through the house, neither of us saying a word. As he joins Fredrick at the dining table adjacent to the kitchen, I promptly start to make the coffee and some toast for the both of them. I was startled when my father's harsh voice came out of nowhere and narrowly avoided dropping the mugs.
"Clearly you need to do more than gently smack her around for the message to sink in Fredrick. Sleeping in and answering the door so disgracefully," he scoffs.
Fredrick hums while passing the paper to Richard before replying "I know, but she always takes so long to heal. It's beginning to get on my nerves." Neither of them have looked at me once since starting this exchange, not that this is a rare occurrence. I just try to ignore them and wait for the kettle to finish boiling as I put the toast on the table in front of them.
While reaching for a piece of buttered toast, my father grumbles, "yes it was horrid having to deal with that, always got in the way. Its why unfortunately you have to spend so much effort on her. Hopefully any children you have, don't have it, because it was a right pain dealing with an incompetent wife AND a useless child when you can't properly teach either of them. If it wasn't inappropriate, I'd send money to the driver who killed her mother. However bad you think she is, Annabelle was worse."
My hands shaking, I set down the coffee and mutter that I'm going upstairs to get ready for the day so that I can run errands before running up the stairs. Their voices get softer as I somehow manage to make it up the stairs and into the bathroom.
The second I got there, I closed and locked the door before I let myself start to cry. My whole body shook, and I was disgusted with myself. For never leaving father's house after mother died, for letting him force me to marry Fredrick- who even after one conversation I knew would be at least as bad as my father- and for staying in this marriage for several months, I should have left by now, But any time I thought about leaving I remembered that my father was a very powerful man with too much money to spare. The thought of finally being free and then being dragged back, terrified me more than anything. I hated how naive I had been when I married Fredrick, thinking that marrying him would at least mean being around my father less. When in fact I had seen him more, because he is grooming Fredrick to take over the company one day.
My mind drifts to the dream I had last night, wishing my subconscious would stop torturing me. I had been having those dreams as long as I can remember, I even have a mother's day card I made for my mother at age three, that in one corner has a raven on a field of blue, Ebonia's sigil. I had never told anyone about the strange dreams that were never the same. When I was younger, I went through lessons for everything from diplomacy to horse back riding. Sometimes the dreams were sad and worrying like when there was a year long drought in Ebonia, or when Lancelyn and Aelisia were having marital difficulties. Other times they focused on much happier times; parties and making new friends when royals from neighbouring kingdoms came to visit.
All in all, I had lived a whole other life in my dreams. A life that was the exact opposite of the one here. While Lancelyn is warm and proud, Richard is spiteful and narcissistic; Aelisia is funny and alive, and Annabelle died when I was twelve; and while there I had brothers who always made time for me, I was beyond alone in my struggles in my real life. Even my group of friends there who are all supportive and lovely people, particularly Amelia, are the opposite of my life here, as any friends I had when I was younger were only interested in my father's money. Every time I awoke from a dream, which occurred almost every night, I grew ever more depressed in this one, the dreams reminding me just how far I am from a happy, normal life.
Taking a deep breath before standing up, I wipe my eyes and walk towards my bedroom to get ready for the day, refusing to look in the mirror to see my green eyes puffy with tears because seeing the evidence of how miserable I am, will only make me start to cry again.
Sitting on the hard, dirty chairs at the bank, I once again internally voice my relief that Fredrick refuses to spend money on a maid and instead makes me do all our errands. The long list of things that I have to do to keep the house I live in running presents me with opportunities to get out of the house on days that Fredrick and my father are milling about in it instead of their corporate offices. I glance around the room, and my eyes are caught by a family that is sitting on the opposite side of it. A man, who reminds her of her husband a disturbing amount is speaking in quiet undertones to the beautiful woman and young child who are clearly his wife and son. While most others would assume it was just a normal conversation they were having, I however noticed the tension in his shoulders, the barely concealed fear in the woman and child's eyes and more importantly, how they flinched when his hand curled into a fist by his side.
"Number 57," calls the computer screen to announce the next teller is ready. Jolted from my thoughts I horridly try to get through my transaction while trying not to think about the family behind me. When I turn to leave the store, I catch the woman's eyes accidentally and give her a small smile, trying to convey the million emotions I am currently experiencing.
At the end of a very horrible day, I quietly maneuver myself into my room, my side and face still aching from the night before. As I get dressed for bed, I recall the family at the bank and thank my lucky stars that I haven't gotten pregnant yet. I can't imagine having to bring a child up in the same environment I did. And god forbid, having to one day stand back when Fredrick married them off to some awful human being. At this, my eyes flicker to the stereo on one of the high shelves, that used to be my mothers, that Fred graciously let me keep even though he wont let me use it, not that I would anyway. I pull the stereo down to myself and sit on my bed before I open the battery compartment. Stuffed into it is the details for the money my mother left me, that my father nor husband can gain access to much to their discontent, and a list of places she could go where both her father and fiancee have no or few connections. My mind drifts to the despair filled and hope-ridden face of that young boy, the same one I see on myself when I let my mask slip, and determination hits me like a lightning strike. I am not going to let them win. They don't get to do this to me any longer. I'm going to do what I've been planning since before my mother died, and leave.
With a small carry on sitting on the seat beside me, I stare out the bus window. It has been a week since I finally decided to leave and today was my chance. Both Richard and Fredrick were out of town for the weekend so no one would notice I was gone until Monday, at which point I would have already bought myself a car with my mother's money, all of which lay in the carry on and would be far from their reach. I let a small smile grace my face as I thought of my dream family. They would be proud I think, if they were real obviously. A loud horn suddenly sounds and the bus screeches as it attempts to stop. I look around wildly trying to figure out what's going on when something behind us propels the bus forward dangerously. I hit my head on the seat in front of me, and a white light starts to obscure my vision. I look around the bus, seeing everyone panicking and pointing out the side. A large truck is coming right towards us, and we aren't moving. I rub my eyes, trying to clear the white light that is slowly encasing more and more of my vision as I grab my bag and go to run towards the front of the bus. I trip and fall towards the ground. It seems to happen in slow motion and I wonder if I will hit the floor before I'm crushed my the truck. Suddenly my vision is totally obscured my the white light, for a moment I panic about not being able to see, before I feel my head jerk and I black out.
A/N- Okay, this is really really late I know, but I had so much trouble starting this chapter. Procrastination is the worst right? Anyway, I hope the length makes up for the delay. Let me know if you like it or not please! Reviews and follows make me really happy xx.
P.S I apologise for the odd text formatting. My computer is playing up today.