Esme was not quite completely alone in her pain.
Sarajevo is the capital and largest city of Bosnia and Herzegovina, with an estimated population of over 321,000 people within its administrative limits.
Nestled within the greater Sarajevo valley of Bosnia are tertiary mountains surrounded by sedimentary rocks of dolomite, limestone and sand which were conglomerated by ancient seas and lakes that once covered the Dinaric Alps. It's dogmatic opulence sits placidly situated along the pungent murky brown waters of the Miljacka River in the heart of South-eastern Europe and the Balkans.
It was a Sunday morning, the air bright and clear with a few clouds lazily sauntered across the ethereal blue sky. 28th June. At approximately 10:45 am. Archduke Franz Ferdinand and his wife were killed in Sarajevo. Within the capital of the Austro-Hungarian province by a young man named Gavrilo Princip, a member of Young Bosnia and one of a group of assassins organized cunningly by an underground secret society calling themselves 'Black Hand'.
The news of the assassination started to spread like frenzied insanity. As the outrage in Europe, sparks the flames of vendetta and bloodlust as the First World War is brought to ferocious life, resulting in the death of millions.
Charles Evenson is drafted to war.
"Dearest Diary,
Charles is sent away to war.
I'm feeling quite disconcerted about how to feel.
A wife is supposed to shed tears of sadness and worry when her husband leaves, let alone sent to war.
Right?
But I can't help but feel a sense of relief at his absence.
Please don't think I wish him any ill-fate. He is my husband after all.
But I cannot and will not lie to myself when I say, I feel. . .
Happy.
Free.
It's as if the whole time he was here with me, he had been holding my neck the whole way through. Preventing sweet air to permeate my lungs.
It's unkind of me to say, yes, but it's the truth. I can no longer lie for his actions nor lie to myself. It would be the ruin of me, if I continue to do so.
But, am I such a cruel person if I think of him this way?"
If Esme could label this period of time in her life, she would call it 'Summer Solstice'
For the days were long and beautiful and the nights were brief yet filled with undisturbed serenity.
Such still peace and calmness enveloped the entire home in a loving embrace that was no longer filled with fear or pain.
The world was at war within itself.
Yet peace managed to waft its way into Esme's domain, and into her heart.
An odd circumstance with the known fact of what was happening overseas.
Still, even if she felt certain feelings of dislike and unconscious vague forms of hatred towards Charles.
She still cared about him.
As twisted and strange it may sound.
Somehow deep inside, she knew he was a broken man. He would die a hundred times rather than to admit that.
But she knew.
His anger seemed to stem from some form of personal inadequacy that she couldn't quite seem to decipher the contents of.
Yes there were moments when he showed emotion. But the problem with him was he took it as a sign of weakness and immediately covered it up with his solitary veneer and slightly mechanical smile and abusive behaviour.
He was a broken puzzle that unfortunately couldn't be solved.
Esme on the other hand, tried several times in the past to understand him.
But it wasn't possible.
If a troubled man wanted help, there's a large chance of him getting it.
If he didn't want help. . .
Well, you'd get Charles Evenson.
Still, ever the kind and loving person she is. She wrote to him every once in a while, just to see how he is. Her caring nature, intertwined with the pen and paper she so thoughtfully used to express her concerns and worries.
His replies however, were vague and few. Somehow the war was affecting him more deeply than she will ever know.
During his absence, Esme started to fully enjoy her time alone by herself.
There was never a shortage of things to do.
And cleaning was not a part of it. Though she kept the house neat and tidy, but in her own way and good time.
She would spend long and idyllic hours on the porch, comfortably seated in one of the old wooden rocking chairs, facing the warm blue lake during a beautiful afternoon as she sipped her favorite tea. Her eyes enjoying the peaceful view in front of her that was vibrantly coloured in soft hues of green and rustic shades of brown as the sun's light delicately played on the water's surface. Sending little coloured lights shimmering in the air as the large trees swayed gently to the invisible rhythm of the wind. The soft sloshing of the water in the lake, providing a soporific atmosphere in the air, as a contented sigh would escape her lips.
On other occasions, she would simply sit in the large living room, on the carpeted floor facing the fireplace, with several books and throw pillows scattered around her as she laid down comfortably on the beautiful disarray. Her delicate face covered by a large book as she softly thumbed through their pages. Her caramel hair and all their soft curls, framing her beautiful face as she runs a hand through the soft mass, slightly toying with the ends as her eyes concentrated on the page she was reading.
Her first year alone in the house was spent in peaceful solitude.
And that was all she could ever ask for.
It was an early Monday morning.
Esme had only just finished breakfast.
She was cleaning the dishes as she hummed happily to herself, when she heard a soft knock on the door.
She tilted her head in confusion.
Visitors were rare and often unexpected.
She took a pause from her washing. She walked out of the kitchen and past the stairwell and on to the front door as she opened it.
It was Mrs Platt.
Her petite frame that was half the size of the door as she stood there with a smile. Her eyes lighted as she saw her daughter.
"Mama?" Esme said, her eyebrows rising. She hadn't seen her mother for quite some time. And it had been a while since she last wrote to her, ever since the incidents started happening.
"Well, aren't you going to invite your dear old mother in?" Her mother chirped.
"Of...Of course..." Esme replied as she shook herself out of her thoughts.
She led her mother through the foyer and into the kitchen as she offered her a seat.
Mrs Platt eyed her daughter carefully as Esme continued to put away the dishes she had been cleaning.
She was wiping her hands with a towel as she placed it next to the sink.
She took a seat opposite her mother, her eyes wary and sombre.
"Can I offer you anything?" Esme quietly asked.
"No, it's quite alright dear." Her mother replied as she averted her gaze.
Esme tucked a hair behind her ear as she watched her mother's face. It seemed to have aged a great deal since their last meeting.
"I...I came here to speak to you about...your last letters..." Her mother began her voice slow and even.
Esme winced, as a memory of the events flashed through her mind.
"Yes? What about them?"
"Sweetheart. You must have been overreacting. Charles is sweet, he couldn't possibly do all the things you wrote he did..."
Esme leaned back into her chair.
"Mother, I love you. But you do realize that I sent you all those letters in a span of 1 month and received a reply more than 5 months later, and you visit me, more than a year and a half later." Esme said quietly. Her eyes watching her mother's in anticipation.
Her mother's lips opened and closed as she swallowed hard.
Esme took her silence as a chance to speak to her blatantly.
"Mother, I want a divorce."
Her mother's eyes widened.
"No, dear. You're not thinking right..." Her mother babbled.
She looked at her mother, feeling helpless.
"Why can't you believe me Mama?" Esme said pleadingly, her eyes welling up with tears.
"You're overreacting. Charles is a good man; he's good to you Esme..." Her mother started to say.
"Mama, why can't you believe me when I say he beats me? You're my own mother. You wouldn't want me to get hurt, but why can't you believe me?" Esme said, her eyes begging.
Her mother was silent. Her eyes focused on Esme.
"You can't have a divorce Esme, it would cause a scandal. If what you say is true, it's just a period of adjustment. He's a good man, trust me." She said soothingly.
"Period of adjustment? Scandal?" Esme spoke, her voice quivering with anger.
"Is your reputation so precious to you? What if my life were in the hands of this man? You'd still ask me to stay?"
"Esme, you don't understand..."
"I understand perfectly. You're not going to help me." Esme said as her voice broke.
"Esme sweetheart, I want to help you...But not with a divorce, it wouldn't be right-"
"Mama, you don't understand. That's my only escape." Esme whispered.
"I can't do that, Esme." Her mother said in a small voice.
She looked at her mother, as if seeing her for the first time.
"I love you mother, but I want you to get out."
The Great War stretches from months into a catastrophic 5 years. 9 million people as its bloodied casualties.
The hazed and battered soldiers finding their way through the dusty darkness of war as they stumble towards home.
Charles Evenson returned home to his wife, later in the spring.
The first few months of his return were unexpectedly peaceful. But there was a daunting silence in the air around him.
He was home more often. Yet he seldom said anything anymore, he seemed silent and withdrawn.
Esme didn't know whether to be frightened or to be scared. In reality those two words weren't quite so different in meaning.
One evening, shortly after dinner.
Esme was cleaning the dishes downstairs when Charles called her from their bedroom.
Her face cringed. She knew exactly what he wanted.
This is going to be a long night.
She dourly thought to herself.
Sometime during the evening, when Esme was sure Charles was asleep. She took out her diary and proceeded to write into the white confines of paper. The moonlight penetrating their window, as her delicate fingers turned it's pages, ever so quietly. The moon's eerie glow providing her light in the darkness.
After she had finished, she turned to an earlier page she had written when she was 16. As a smile touched her lips at the memories it contained.
Esme was unaware that Charles was wide awake next to her.
A few moments later, she felt the bed go completely still. Which seemed odd. Charles was a restless sleeper.
Her breath caught in her throat as she turned to look at Charles whose eyes were looking right down at her journal. An animalistic expression on his face.
"Who's Carlisle?" He asked, his voice calm.
"He's-He's a boy I knew when I was 16." She explained. Fighting nervousness.
"Do you think I'm an idiot?" He snapped as he kicked off the covers and turned on the light.
"Are you having an affair with this man?" He asked his voice seething with anger.
She felt her throat go dry. Her heart starting to beat rapidly.
"Sweetheart, you don't understand. I had this diary since I was 16; some of its entries are old." She reasoned. Struggling to keep him calm.
He seemed to show signs of calmness as he nodded.
But it was the calm before the storm, as he lunged at Esme like a raging bull and grabbed her diary and tossed it across the room as he smacked her across the bed.
She was screaming for him to stop. But he didn't.
Instead, he opened the bedroom door and went back to the bed and pushed her out as she fell onto the floor with a thud. He then started to drag her out of the bedroom and across the wooden floor by her hair and into the cold dark corridors of night. She was yelling for him to stop. But she knew it was of no use. She could fight all she want. Struggle all she want to no avail.
But Esme was hoping bitterly someone would come to her aid, as she struggled to free herself from his painful grasp.
She screamed once more in desperation.
A scream no one could hear.
A scream in the night.
A/N: Whew! I actually typed this out all in one sitting! Haha. I know this chapter is a bit extreme, sorry about that but the music I was listening to was really getting inside my head.
By the way I have a question for you guys. Has anyone ever watched that re-made 1992-ish version of Lolita? (I haven't watched the movie, just only the 1960s version) if so, have you guys seen the trailer? Because the piano playing near the end is just so beautiful and I'm having a difficult time in naming the title of the piece, do you think you lovely people out there could help me? It would be greatly appreciated :)
God bless you all and keep them reviews coming! I'm always excessively high when I read all your lovely thoughts and comments :) Love ya guys! stay tuned for chapter 12 :D