~*~*~*~
"Get rid of it."
The voice rang in her ears, but she couldn't believe the words it formed. Her vision blurred, her temples were pounding... Was it a possibility that she wasn't awake? Dreaming. She had to be dreaming.
Again came the voice, roaring like thunder. "Do you understand?! I said get rid of it! I will not permit a child between these walls!" He pulled her head back by the flaming red curls at the nape of her neck. "Do I make myself clear?" The man spoke as if there were sand in his throat.
She said nothing, made no move to acknowledge him. One of many lessons learned to her over the years, was that silence was her best and strongest weapon, and she used this ploy wisely in matters dealing with her husband. He gave her one last cold, hard stare, before releasing her hair. Then to her great relief, he turned, and left the house. She took a moment to praise the gods for his departure, before to vomiting once more into the basin she was kneeling in front of.
"A woman can die from such a man!" she exclaimed as she cleaned her self up. "The dishes, Taryn! The laundry, Taryn! Rub my blasted feet, Taryn!" Her lilting accent sharpened with her rising resentment. A dish towel was thrown angrily in the sink. The young woman took a deep breath and put her hands on her hips, blowing a stray curl out of her face. Her right hand grazed her over her stomach, followed by her eyes. "We'll figure out somethin' right, kid?"
Two years ago her hopes would not have been so bright. A girl of sixteen, she had resided with her parents and several younger brothers and sisters, in a small, and indigent village in Ireland. Adair had looked so much younger then. A youthful and charming man buying land off of the villagers, he had set his dark eyes upon Tayrn and become obsessed with the idea of taking her home to America with him. She vehemently fought him off with her fierce and witty tongue, but in the end, he offered to make her entire family financially secure, as long as she would marry him. Though disgusted with this idea, the security and well being of her family was of far greater importance to her, and she rancorously consented to the loveless legal binding.
He was a wretched man, for the most part, treating his wife as if she mattered less to him than the whorish courtesans he would have on the side, but still he presented her beautiful living conditions -- that is to say, when he himself wasn't a part of them -- and he kept her family alive. Taryn was grateful for that.
Several days following his rash behavior in regards to his unborn child, upon returning home from the market down the street, Taryn found Adair in their room, packing his things into a large, shiny suitcase. His face seemed worn and tired in comparison to how she remembered it. She moved quietly toward the door.
"Where do you think you're goin'?" She inquired softly, but forcefully.
"Away." he said, shortly.
"Fer how long, then?"
"I don't know."
The latch on the suitcase made a loud clicking sound as he closed it. He swung to face her, his face suddenly turning a pale shade of purple, and a fat finger pointed menacingly in her direction. "But if you still have that thing inside you when I return, you're finished. I can promise you that." he adjusted his tie, grabbed his bags, and stormed out the oak door, slamming it with such force that the glass rattled.
Although somewhat shaken by his last remark, Taryn wasn't the least bit worried about his leaving. She knew he would be back in a week or two, as he always was, and was certain there must be enough money hidden in the cellar to last until then. All she could do was sigh, thankful for the peace and quiet, and then effortlessly proceed to fall asleep on the daybed.
"Get rid of it."
The voice rang in her ears, but she couldn't believe the words it formed. Her vision blurred, her temples were pounding... Was it a possibility that she wasn't awake? Dreaming. She had to be dreaming.
Again came the voice, roaring like thunder. "Do you understand?! I said get rid of it! I will not permit a child between these walls!" He pulled her head back by the flaming red curls at the nape of her neck. "Do I make myself clear?" The man spoke as if there were sand in his throat.
She said nothing, made no move to acknowledge him. One of many lessons learned to her over the years, was that silence was her best and strongest weapon, and she used this ploy wisely in matters dealing with her husband. He gave her one last cold, hard stare, before releasing her hair. Then to her great relief, he turned, and left the house. She took a moment to praise the gods for his departure, before to vomiting once more into the basin she was kneeling in front of.
"A woman can die from such a man!" she exclaimed as she cleaned her self up. "The dishes, Taryn! The laundry, Taryn! Rub my blasted feet, Taryn!" Her lilting accent sharpened with her rising resentment. A dish towel was thrown angrily in the sink. The young woman took a deep breath and put her hands on her hips, blowing a stray curl out of her face. Her right hand grazed her over her stomach, followed by her eyes. "We'll figure out somethin' right, kid?"
Two years ago her hopes would not have been so bright. A girl of sixteen, she had resided with her parents and several younger brothers and sisters, in a small, and indigent village in Ireland. Adair had looked so much younger then. A youthful and charming man buying land off of the villagers, he had set his dark eyes upon Tayrn and become obsessed with the idea of taking her home to America with him. She vehemently fought him off with her fierce and witty tongue, but in the end, he offered to make her entire family financially secure, as long as she would marry him. Though disgusted with this idea, the security and well being of her family was of far greater importance to her, and she rancorously consented to the loveless legal binding.
He was a wretched man, for the most part, treating his wife as if she mattered less to him than the whorish courtesans he would have on the side, but still he presented her beautiful living conditions -- that is to say, when he himself wasn't a part of them -- and he kept her family alive. Taryn was grateful for that.
Several days following his rash behavior in regards to his unborn child, upon returning home from the market down the street, Taryn found Adair in their room, packing his things into a large, shiny suitcase. His face seemed worn and tired in comparison to how she remembered it. She moved quietly toward the door.
"Where do you think you're goin'?" She inquired softly, but forcefully.
"Away." he said, shortly.
"Fer how long, then?"
"I don't know."
The latch on the suitcase made a loud clicking sound as he closed it. He swung to face her, his face suddenly turning a pale shade of purple, and a fat finger pointed menacingly in her direction. "But if you still have that thing inside you when I return, you're finished. I can promise you that." he adjusted his tie, grabbed his bags, and stormed out the oak door, slamming it with such force that the glass rattled.
Although somewhat shaken by his last remark, Taryn wasn't the least bit worried about his leaving. She knew he would be back in a week or two, as he always was, and was certain there must be enough money hidden in the cellar to last until then. All she could do was sigh, thankful for the peace and quiet, and then effortlessly proceed to fall asleep on the daybed.