Note: I hope you enjoyed the 1st chap. I think it is the best chap in this story so far. lol. I like how this next chap turned out. Chap 4 is no longer giving me a headache! Yay! I just hope it is of the same caliber as its predecessors. As always...REVIEW:)
January 11, 1834
It has been a little over a year since I came to live here. The maunts have been kind to me and have grown accustomed to my verdigris. I have taken a vow of silence as punishment for Fiyero's death. My only solace is this journal. Here, all of my thoughts, memories, and inquiries can dwell.
I must confess I have become a creature of habit. My days consist of my morning devotions, chores, and evening devotions. My meals are at the same time each day. The chores are not so difficult, except for the washing. It takes me hours to wash a single floor, but the Superior Maunt is always pleased with my work. Laundry day is another adventure. It is actually easier because I can use a stick to poke the clothes around.
I am not too fond of my devotions. Father and Nessie always had more of a taste for religion than I. I say the prayers as a sort of poetry. The flowery language used to convey a desired emotion is almost enough to convince even the most cynical audience. Naturally, it has no effect on my withered heart. Remorse and grief are the only emotions that serve a purpose in my life.
I must continue my writing at a later date. The infant the maunts have left in my care is beginning to fuss again. Of all the maunts here, the Superior Maunt chooses me. I swear the woman is mad at times.
Elphaba laid the quill on the desk and sealed the inkpot. The baby shrieked for attention, causing Elphaba to rise from her chair to attend to his needs. "What ails you, child?" she thought. She hesitantly picked the boy up and was immediately overcome by a most unpleasant aroma. Elphaba was reminded why she had avoided children most of her life.
She quickly cleaned him up and disposed of the offending package. She stared at the infant before her. The boy stared back, his green eyes wide and curious. Somehow, she felt a connection to this small boy. She couldn't explain why since most of the past year was a haze in her mind. She had been in a state of severe shock and depression over Fiyero's death. "You remind me of a man I loved very much," she silently told the boy. The baby merely blinked and continued to watch her.
Elphaba felt a sudden urge to touch him. She slowly traced the side of his face. A sharp pain flashed through Elphaba's lower body. She remembered a room dimly lit by candles. The smell of incense and blood hung thick in the air. A cry for hot water and towels rang in her ears. Her body felt like it was being torn apart from the inside out. She remembered one final pain slicing through her before she heard crying. Her own tears flowed, but she felt no pain. Someone dabbed the sweat from her worn face. A numbness settled over her.
Elphaba jerked her hand away from the infant's face. Her eyes were wide with disbelief. Could this child be of her own flesh and blood? Was he the final, tangible evidence of her time with Fiyero, the proof it wasn't a fantasy? Elphaba slowly backed away from the cradle. Her hands were shaking, and her breath came in short, trembling pants. This couldn't be her son. She didn't want him to be her son. Elphaba covered her face with her hands and wept.