Years went by and Martha still worked at Who Runway, pretty much doing the same thing each and every day. It was fun at first, but now she just felt like she was in a rut… an excruciating and horrible rut she couldn't get out of, no matter how hard she tried. And all she wanted to do was leave.
Martha May was now thirty-five years old. She would either wear her hair in a bun or even cut it completely short on occasion and she would dress in boring clothes in bland ordinary colors; all because August would tell her to look professional for this job. And of course, she would always do what he wanted… hardly ever what she wanted anymore. August had run for mayor of Who York City and he's been mayor for four terms, a full sixteen years. But not everyone in the city was very happy about that, especially Martha.
But during that time, the unbearable abuse August inflicted upon Martha gradually became worse. He would often come home either tired or even wasted and if he saw something out of place, he would hurt Martha in a number of different ways, even if she didn't do anything. He would punch her, cut her, kick her, and basically turn her life into a living nightmare. But the worst part about August was his unpredictable nature; Martha would never know what kind of mood he would be in, especially if it's a good day. She hated it… and she hated him.
Once in a while, August would ask her to marry him and every time… she would say 'no', which would make him angry. But every so often he would keep asking, hoping she would finally say 'yes'; she never did.
It was the last few days of December; Christmas had passed and the New Year was quickly approaching. Martha had gotten home early from a long day at work and was ready to relax before August showed up to ruin the peace and quiet. As she changed into something more comfortable, she noticed a cardboard box hidden deep in her closet. She picked it up and discovered something wrapped in bubble wrap and newspaper; she unwrapped it and realized that it was the Christmas Tree Angel that the Grinch had made for her all those years ago. Martha smiled and started to cry, holding the Angel close.
"I miss you, Mr. Grinch…" She whispered.
She wondered if the Grinch still remembered her, even after all this time.
'Oh, what would he think of me now…?' She thought.
The front door opened. As quickly as possible, Martha put the Angel back in its box, shoved it back into the closet, and went out to greet August. He was wearing his usual gray suit, but he was holding a couple bags of takeout food. Martha was confused.
"Hello, my little flower." August said.
"What's this?" Martha asked.
"It's dinner. What do you think it is?" He shoved a pulled pork sandwich, some onion rings, and a medium diet soda into her hands before he sat down at the table. "I figured you would either be too busy or too lazy to cook tonight."
"What do you mean 'lazy'?"
"You know, never taking initiative; hardly doing your share around the house."
Martha sat down with wide eyes. "What are you talking about? I do my share."
"Not very often."
Martha was shocked and somewhat offended; she did far more than her fair share around the house. He shouldn't be complaining; in fact, he should be thanking her for everything she did. If anything, August isn't doing his share. All he ever did since he was elected mayor was sit around and basically do nothing but give orders and boss people around all day. She furrowed her brow as she stared at her food, not even touching it; she hated pulled pork and onion rings.
"What is that supposed to mean?" She asked, trying to sound stern.
August sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose. "Ugh, must I draw you a picture? It means you've done nothing all day, especially since you've gotten that promotion."
"But that was years ago."
"Yes, but the day you received that promotion was also the day I saw you on the news singing Christmas songs with talentless urchins in front of Who Runway. And when you went to Thneedville, I heard that you assaulted Aloysius O'Hare during Fashion Week; splashing punch in his face, stomping on his foot, and storming off without saying another word. You humiliated me, and that's something that cannot be forgiven."
Martha sneered. "I was trying to spread Christmas cheer to the company that day, that's my job. And you should know that O'Hare tried to kiss me. KISS me. I was only defending myself."
"Excuses, excuses."
"And besides, Johanna promoted me to Company Decorator for a reason."
"Oh yes, and that reason was because she felt so sorry for you. Wah, wah." He made a pouty face and pretended to cry like a baby.
She narrowed her eyes and slumped down into her chair. "Why do you always do this to me?"
August paused. "Do what?"
"This. You embarrass me and hurt me in any possible way you can think of. Is this what you think you're supposed to do in a relationship? You never let me do anything."
"Yes I do. I let you go to work."
"But that's it. Nothing else. I never get to go out with friends anymore or spend time with my family or even go out to get myself a new book or a cup of coffee."
"Only because you can't be trusted, especially with nice things."
"Me? I can't be trusted?"
"Of course not. You never do anything right."
She inhaled through her nostrils, stood up from the table, and went over to the door before tossing her food onto the floor. "I'm going for a walk."
He violently grabbed her arm. "No you're not. You are going to stay right here and eat the dinner I bought you, or else."
Martha stuttered. "But… I just threw it on the floor."
"Then you'll have to eat it off of the floor."
"You mean… like an animal?"
"Exactly. Do it."
"…No."
August froze. "…What did you say?"
"I said no. I'm NOT a pet and I will NOT stoop to that level."
"Eat. Your. Dinner. NOW." He pointed a finger to the food on the floor.
"I. Said. N—"
Martha was cut off with a strike across the face. She immediately fell to the floor, dazing and holding the cheek that was hit. A small stream of blood came from her nose as a black eye started to form. August stood over her with a wicked smile on his face.
"Look at you; you're pathetic." He taunted. "You are reduced to nothing but a drone, a mindless animal scavenging for its next meal; caught in a trap, begging and pleading for some kind of mercy. Well, guess what; there is no mercy, not anymore. This is what you were, what you are, and what you always will be. No matter what you say to yourself, no matter what you try to do, you will always be my Little Flower."
Martha remained silent as tears fell from her eyes.
0-0-0-0-0-0
The next morning, Martha couldn't get the vivid, horrific images of that night out of her head. August had forced her own food down her throat, which made her sick soon after; she was practically beaten to a pulp, blood dripped from her nose and a puncture wound on her cheek, her left cheek swelled up, and her right eye was black and blue. She remembered crying herself to sleep that night, fearing for her life the next time something like that would happen.
As she got ready for work, she remembered the box hiding in her closet; the homemade Christmas Angel from the Grinch was still laying inside. She knew August didn't know anything about the Grinch, the Angel, or her time in Whoville, but she also knew what he would do if he ever found out. But she didn't want to think about it.
As she grabbed a pack of toaster pastries for a quick breakfast, she was heading towards the door when something stopped her.
"Don't fill up on sweets." August's voice said. "Sugar is terrible for your figure."
Martha rolled her eyes and said, "Shouldn't you be at work by now?"
"Not yet. I have to be at work in about two hours, still plenty of time for a proper sendoff." August got up from the table and opened the door for Martha. "But have a good day. Oh! And one more thing, my Flower."
"Yes?"
"Don't let the door hit you on the way out, you clumsy thing."
It was then that Martha felt August's foot on her backside and she felt herself being pushed out the door, down the steps, and out onto the sidewalk. She groaned in pain when she heard the door slam shut. She started to cry as she shakily got up; the heels she was wearing weren't much help. Her cell phone rang.
"Hello?" She said, trying not to sound upset.
"Martha, where are you?" Heather's voice said. "Johanna needs you right away. She also needs you to get her coffee; the new girl Frieda forgot, again. You know the drill. I'll see you later."
The phone hung up. Martha breathed heavily as she went down the sidewalk towards the coffee shop. When she got out with the coffee, she recalled her first few weeks at Who Runway. She remembered the demands Johanna had given her, everything she made her do.
"It's the same." She whispered as she walked into Who Runway and up to Johanna's office. "It's the same. It's the same thing EVERY SINGLE DAY."
Tears fell from her eyes. She couldn't recall without feeling the sting. So Martha finally declared…
"I must stop this whole thing."
She slammed the coffee down onto Johanna's desk and turned to leave when Heather stopped her.
"Martha? What are you doing?" She asked.
It took a minute for Martha to respond. "Not now, Heather. I need to be alone."
She briskly walked out of the office and headed down the hall, leaving Heather in shock and confusion. She looked at Johanna for an answer.
"What was that all about?" The new second assistant asked with a laugh.
"That is none of your concern, Frieda." Johanna said sternly. "Heather, may I have a word with you?"
"Yes, Johanna." Heather said, going into Johanna's office. "You know something's wrong with Martha, right?"
"Of course. August must be getting to her again." Johanna whispered. "We've gotta do something."
"But what?"
"I know. Why don't you go try and cheer her up?"
"Me?"
"Yes, you. Get her some tissues, some comfort food, anything that might help."
"What kind of comfort food?"
"I don't know. Maybe… ice cream. Get her some ice cream; any kind of flavor would be fine. Just get to the root of the problem. Martha was late and she already has a ton of work to do."
"Yes, Johanna." Heather grabbed her purse and walked out of the office as quickly as possible.