Chapter 1
Stafford Harbor, Ohio - November 1865
The hard cold metal dug into her tender wrists as she tried to shift positions on the damp freezing floor. Her fingers were nearly numb from the cold, yet the sensation of pain persisted, a grim reminder of her dire situation. Despite the darkness enveloping the cellar, Vera sensed the approach of morning; the faint sounds of movement upstairs hinted at the world awakening.
With a grimace, she pressed her legs tightly together, once more her bladder threatening to unleash its burden at any moment. The urge to relieve herself grew increasingly unbearable, her body pleading for release. The creak of the door opening shattered the eerie silence, sending a surge of conflicting emotions coursing through her. Relief flooded her momentarily, mingling with an undercurrent of dread as uncertainty loomed over her fate.
"Good morning sweetheart." Lawrence Tucker walked down the steps to the basement sipping his coffee.
"Good morning." She replied through gritted teeth.
"Did someone not sleep well?" He set his coffee cup down on a table and mocked her.
"I'm sorry." She looked up at him demurely. "Please Lawrence, I need to use the washroom."
"Can I trust you to be a behave yourself?" He knelt down and unlocked the chain around her wrists as he gave her a warning look.
"Yes." She nodded quickly.
Roughly he yanked her to her feet by her arm and pushed her up the stairs. Tripping on the hem of her skirt she fell hard against the wood steps. She winced as her shin collided with the hard wood. Not wanting to anger her husband she quickly scrambled to her feet and ran up to the washroom. Afraid she wasn't going to make it, she had her skirt and crinoline slip bunched up under her arms as she ran through the hallway. As she pushed open the washroom door and flung herself onto the lavatory, she closed her eyes and sighed in relief.
"Vera I'd like to let you back into the house but I need to know I can trust you." Lawrence opened the washroom door and looked down at his wife.
"I promise." She kept her eyes on the tiled floor.
"Next time." He grabbed the back of her hair and forced her to look at him. "I'll leave you down there twice as long. Do you understand me?"
"Yes." She nodded.
"Clean yourself up." He sneered before he shut the door.
After he closed the door, she exhaled deeply, releasing the breath she had been holding. Completing her task, she washed her hands in the basin, observing as the water carried away the blood from her palms. Rolling up the sleeves of her blouse, she was taken aback by the bruises and cuts on her wrists. Gently, she allowed the water to run over the tender wounds on her arms, holding back tears.
Meeting her reflection, she felt a wave of nausea. The person staring back at her seemed foreign, a mere shadow of her former self. Her once radiant golden brown hair now hung limply down her back, lacking its former vitality. Her dark brown eyes, once filled with brightness and sparkle, now appeared as somber, bottomless voids. She appeared to have lost about twenty pounds, already being quite slender her clothing hung loosely on her form.
"How did this happen?" She asked herself in the mirror.
As the cool water flowed over her fingers, she closed her eyes and let out a sigh. It hadn't always been this way. Her family once owned a small farm, providing enough to live comfortably before the war. She was the eldest of seven children. Her father, like many men, went off to fight in the war, receiving the devastating news of his death in '63. After the war, they struggled to make ends meet, often barely able to put food on the table.
When Vera met Lawrence, he appeared as a knight in shining armor. His family had managed to safeguard their fortune during the war, and despite his father's passing, both Lawrence and his brother Charles survived. She couldn't believe her luck when this wealthy and charming man took an interest in her. After only three months of knowing him, she accepted his proposal and married him. It was a decision she would regret for the rest of her days.
Almost immediately after slipping the ring on her finger, Lawrence seemed to transform. Just a week into their marriage, he struck her so forcefully that she lost consciousness. Within weeks, bruises covered much of her body, yet she hadn't fully grasped the extent of his cruelty at that point. Packing her belongings, she intended to return home.
Her last memory was a sharp blow to her head before awakening in the basement, chained to the floor. For nearly a month, Lawrence kept her there, providing only enough sustenance to keep her alive but forcing her to beg for it to assert his control. He subjected her to the humiliation of soiling herself when he refused to allow her access to the washroom on multiple occasions, all in an attempt to break her spirit. However, rather than weakening her, it only strengthened her resolve.