an: here we are… omg next chap will be the tenth!!! I'm soo excited! Tomorrow I have a test…uff I don't wanna!

Ok stop.

This is the ninth chapter, edited by my wonderful beta Lizbre! Thank you soooo much!

"Goodbye Esme, be good. I'll return." It sounded like a threat.

"Goodbye Charles, be safe" go to hell, she thought, no trace of remorse, only burning hate.

He walked up the steps and then, after a great amount of noise and lots of smoke, he started to move away. And away and away.

Esme looked around.

The other people at the station were different from her. She really felt uncomfortable in that place. It wasn't her place.

At her right there was a young girl, no older then twenty, who was parting from a boy about her age. They were so young and innocent. She was pregnant, her stomach round and big, but she was beautiful, glowing almost. She had long brown hair, big brown eyes, full red lips and was about Esme's height. The boy, she could only guess, because he was on the train, was pretty tall, with bronze messy hair and emerald eyes that stood out against his pale skin. They looked torn, in so much pain and anguish, she almost felt bad for them. They wore rings, so they were supposedly married.

So young, so in love, and they would probably never see each other again.

And for what? A war. A stupid, pointless war.

Esme couldn't bare to stay there any longer.

She felt guilty.

She was saying goodbye to her husband, possibly for good, hopefully for good, but she didn't feel anything. With Charles she never felt anything. Although she felt a little bit of happiness. No, not happiness but euphoria, thanks to the sense of freedom his departure gave her. She didn't care if there was a war, if the could lose it, she only cared that he was away.

And there was a possibility that he might not return.

She counted on that possibility.

She walked away from the smoking station, snuggling in her black coat. when she was at home she looked around the house.

She hung up the coat and walked around the house. Everything was still, as if frozen, as if waiting for something terrible to happen and make everything break, explode.

But there was only silence.

She walked to the reddish-brown kitchen. Silence. Nothing moved, nothing made a sound.

She walked into the living room, caressed the books in the library, the sofa, the curtains though which light passed.

She then walked upstairs, while admiring the pictures on the wall. Still as dead.

She looked in the bathroom, in the guest room and finally the main bedroom.

She looked around, absorbing every detail her eyes could register. The bed, the light, the curtains, the cupboard. She touched everything, starting with the curtains, saving her bed for last. She touched the rough fabric and then she sat down.

Still silence.

She sighed, finding out that with that gesture she broke the lovely silence.

She realized that, on that bed, she will sleep alone. She abruptly stood up and ran to the cupboard, opening it. It was half empty, but, in her world, she only saw a half full cupboard. She smiled. She truly smiled, her first smile in weeks and then she laid down upon the bed.

She was alone. Finally alone. Free.

She put on some music and started dancing around, singing out of tune, dancing like a mad woman, swirling around, her black gown with her. She stopped and started to undress herself. She had never liked the colour black. But she was forced to wear it in morning, a symbol of her presumed internal pain.

But she only felt relief.

She decided than to wear a pink, short sleeved dress, that reached to her knees. She put on her yellow hat, grabbed her purse and then went outside. Finally free to live again.


Years passed. Two years. Two years of freedom and life, when Esme lived like she never had before. But, all to soon, the passed, like everything else.

"Esme, aren't you happy to see me? See I am alive and safe?" he asked her, standing in front of her, towering her. His eyes held a threat, a warning for her.

"Yes, sure I am." she said, forcing a small smile, while, unsurely, trying to hug him. He didn't return the hug. Obviously he didn't have to show any affection towards her. It was her, the wife, who had to be warm and devoted to the husband.

"So, what am I eating?" he said as soon as they walked in the house, marching toward the kitchen. She didn't fail to notice he didn't use plural. As if she was a dog and couldn't eat too.

"I don't know, what do you want?" she tiredly asked him.

"You should have told Leann to cook something! You knew I was coming home!" he shouted at her, the half ran to the living room. She started to walk to the kitchen, where she was sure she would find Leann. Oh, she knew he was coming home. She knew…

Flashback

Esme was singing to herself a song she heard… she didn't remember where, but she loved it.

The sun was warm. The flowers were blossoming. The air was pure.

Everything was better now. It was strange thinking a single person could change your outlook of the world. Yes, she read many books that talked about it, but it was usually the person your were in love with that, with his presence, would change your view on things.

For her it was the absence of a hated person that made everything better.

Wasn't that ironic?

She was in the hall, arranging flowers, a sculpted smile on her face, when the doorbell rang.

"Leave it Leann! I'm going!" she said to the maid. She walked to the door and opened it.

She was met by a pair of ruined, old shoes. The postman.

She looked up into the face of the tall, older man in his forties, with a grey moustache. He was so tall he blocked the sun.

"Hello, is Mrs. Evenson at home, right now?" he asked with his deep, low voice, his face serious.

"Yes, I am Mrs. Evenson. Can I help you?" she asked.

"I am here to deliver a message, they told me to delivery it personally." He took it out from his bag, which was hanging to his side. A letter, little and a little wrinkled.

"Here. Now if you would sign here, please?" he handed her a paper and he pointed where the signature had to be placed. She barely noticed, all she was focused on was the letter.

Who would have possibly written to her, and for what? But she found no answer to that question.

"Thanks. Have a good day!" she shouted, while the man was already walking away.

She closed the door and looked at the letter resting in her hands. It was from the Army.

Her breath hitched. She was excited.

Maybe he was dead! At that she felt guilty for the smallest moment. Her parents always taught her it wasn't good to wish bad things to others.

She ran up the stairs, two at a time. She went to the bedroom and locked the door. She then sat down on her bed and slowly turned the letter over in her hands.

Maybe God answered her prayers.

She stared at the letter for a long time. And then, taking a deep breath, she opened it. She read it, and read it and re-read it.

It couldn't be.

Her eyes filled with tears. And it was in that moment, that Esme lost all her faith in God.

Charles was coming home. For good.

End of Flashback

"So, Esme, what did you while I was away?" he asked her, while eating the soup Leann made for them.

"Nothing Charles, sitting around and praying for your return" to God, she added. He didn't catch her sarcasm.

"Good, so it seems you have been a faithful wife. A good wife." She noticed how he always pressed on that "good".

She nodded. He finished his dinner. He put down the cutlery and stood up.

"Come Esme." he said while reaching for her, he took her wrist and dragged her away from the table.

"But I haven't finished my soup!" she protested. In vain, obviously.

He made his way to their bedroom, opened the door, shoved her inside and then started to search frantically around her clothes, in the cupboard, throwing every item away, behind him. Like a hurricane, he left destruction in his path.

Esme sat on the bed, her eyes wide, thinking that he had finally lost it. And the only one who was going to suffer would be her.

He then went to repeat the procedure with the dirty clothes. He began to sniff them. Esme was truly petrified when he started to examine them thoroughly, as if he wanted to be part of the fabric.

"Mhmmm" he murmured in ….approval?

"It seems you have been faithful." his voice was doubting.

"I have." she responded, hoping he would believe her. She didn't want to be punished for something she didn't do.

"Well, we will see." he said, smirking to her. And then the torture began. But it wasn't like the last time, or even the first time they made it. That time, impossibly, she felt even less then the others.


It was almost half a year that Charles had been back. Half a year of percussion, abuse and brutality.

She was preparing the clothes for Leann. Today was the day for the laundry. She was putting in the last dress, when it occurred to her she didn't know what day it was.

She had lost track of time.

Being confined to the house, it happened.

She went to the kitchen, where there was a calendar Leann like to have there. She watched and, making rapid counts, that day was Thursday the twenty third of March, nineteen and twenty.

She was walking away when something flashed into her mind.

Her eyes, that she had closed, where shut tight as if she had just seen a terrible homicide.

She checked the date.

Oh no, no, no, no, no! No, not with him.

She tried a dress she bought a month previously. It didn't fit her.

And so, with her hands on the zipper, Esme broke down, she cried all the day.

She cried for her, but mostly for the baby that in some months away would arrive.

An: aww, poor Esme, I'm so sorry for her…well, in a way it's my fault she's so unlucky…I'm the author :P. well, I like drama, if you didn't notice. We are near the climax of the story !!! I get 8 on my geography test about America! 8 is like a B…I think. Well the highest mark is ten so, make counts.

Until next time!

Baci