Standing on the edge of the cliff, the cold wind whipping my hair around my face. My tears rolling freely down my cheeks, being pulled away from me like everything else. I reflect on my life. My not-so-perfect-fairytale life.
I suppose it all started on my last day as Esme Anne Platt, my first as Esme Anne Evenson. The second I said 'I Do' everything changed. I was dressed in a pure white dress, a family heirloom, passed down through generation to generation. I had always looked forwards to wearing that dress as a young girl, but on the day I wore it, I wanted to take it off. The man stood in front of me, Charles Evenson, I did not love. I tolerated him of course, to please my parents who made the biggest choice in my life for me. My sleek caramel coloured hair was in tight ringlets, pinned on top of my head with a bobby pin. At the age of twenty two, I had given up on my dream to be a school teacher after being pressured by my parents to stay and marry. Another was ruined by marrying a man I could never love. My last dream could possibly happen, I would need to wait it out and see if it came true.
After the wedding Charles got violent, very violent. He would beat me into the night, hitting harder when I shouted in pain. I soon stopped my pleas for him to stop, taking my beating with silent dignity. After telling my mother and father about Charles' violent tendencies, they pressured me yet again to keep face, act like it was not happening. I did as I was told, to please my parents yet again, and each time after getting hit I silently went into the washroom and cleaned my cuts, hid my bruises and tried to save my confidence which was basically non-existent.
The same year as I was married, America declared war on Germany, entering on the side of Britain and France as Russia had surrendered to Germany after a revolt within the country. To my great relief, Charles was drafted to serve in the army. I spent my days having lunch with the other wives of soldiers in Europe, putting on a façade each time I met with them, hoping for the best for my husband. By the time the war was over my cuts and bruises had faded and turned to memories. I told myself that it had never happened which worked until Charles returned. The constant insults, hits, punches, kicks and slaps returned with him.
The physical an emotional torment continued as if he was never way through 1920 I found out I was pregnant. I did what any person in their right mind would do. I ran. I went north and became a teacher, my first dream becoming a reality.
Early 1921 my son was born. Nathaniel Andrew Platt. My beautiful baby boy. Within days after being born, he was ill. A lung infection which turned deadly for my baby. He died after he only got to see a few days of his life.
At least he didn't see my disastrous life. A marriage planned by my parents. An abusive husband. An unplanned pregnancy. A death of a baby who was only days old. And now, a suicide.