Josephine awoke alone as her husband Thomas worked his shift as a prison guard. While he had returned the previous day, it was only to get a change of clothes. He didn't say much after coming home, nor did he glance her way.
He just packed up four days' worth of clothing and left, telling Josephine,
"I will be staying at one of the guards' spare rooms for the next few days."
He offered not so much as an explanation for why or when he would return home. His expression lacked the warmth she was familiar with.
"I understand. Return home soon, my lo—" He shut the door before Josephine could finish speaking.
Once Thomas had gone, Josephine felt her heart race, wondering what he might do to her again. Still, it took Josephine a few moments to process what had happened.
'What a relief...!' She was shocked at her own thought. Josephine never expected to be relieved that her own husband wouldn't be home for some time.
A part of her couldn't help but smile at having their home to herself. While the other part touched her bruised wrists, screaming that when he came back, Josephine might not even be able to get off their bed.
Distracting herself by working on a tailored order, she let the hours fly by. The dwindling, filtered sunlight from her windows was the only reminder that time was still moving.
'Where did I put those candles?' Her exhausted mind wandered, as her bruised body pulled open cabinets, drawers, and storage chests within a side room. It was a room both Josephine and Thomas spoke about turning into a nursery for their future child.
A conversation as old as their marriage, one they had discussed during their wedding night. Now, the room gathered a few layers of dust. Josephine hadn't had the energy to clean that space for months.
Looking around this room, she once imagined the soft cries of an infant calling out to her. This was supposed to be a start for Josephine... to make a family after losing her own... with a man that promised a happiness that now felt out of reach.
"...Here they are..." Finding the candles, Josephine shut the door.
Before lighting a candle to continue sewing together the measured pieces of fabric, Josephine retrieved her family portrait. The candle sparked to life with a flick of a match. She set the portrait in front of her.
Her family's charcoal-drawn faces stared at hers with smiles. "At least three out of the four of us are smiling..."
'When... when will Thomas be himself again? When will we go back to being a loving couple again? When will these bruises go away...' She wanted to ask them these questions.
Pulling up her sleeves to reveal the bruises had gone beyond her wrists. Josephine's forearms were covered from when Thomas grabbed her. Twisting, tugging, squeezing—this was how Thomas completed his 'duties as her husband.'
"Do you see these? Is this what a marriage is supposed to be? Was it like this between the both of you? Mom? Dad?" Josephine questioned them, knowing no answer could come from a portrait that only represented their image.
"I must have lost my mind... I should finish this order."
Josephine sat down, ignoring the aching protest of her body. She carefully spread the measured pieces of fabric across the surface, smoothing out the wrinkles.
Needle in hand, Josephine began the slow, rhythmic stitch of the hemline. In, out. Up, down. Each movement was a small echo of the chaos of her life.
When she worked, her mind was forced to calculate seams, tension, and fit. It was the only time her thoughts weren't a storm of "When will he return?" or "What will he do?"
Yet, the questions were persistent, creeping into the silence. Once she halfway done, Josephine looked at the portrait again. This time, she faced it down, tired of it staring at her with happy faces. In truth, Josephine wanted to precariously dangle the portrait over the lit up candle nearby and watch it catch fire slowly. Seeing it get consumed by flames reminds her that it was just a piece of paper in the end.
While the part of her that loves her family kept her from doing so. Simply returning to stitching together the desired outfit. Mindlessly continuing a familiar process without a single thought.
It was only when the candle died out after reaching the end of its lifespan. Josephine snapped out of it, noticing sunlight once again coming in though her windows.
"It's morning.. already..." voice dried from disuse and not taking a sip of water. "Ah.. that's right... I needed to go to the market today. Thomas would be expecting a new set of clothing..." carefully standing up from the seat after hours having flown by.
Rechecking the order she spent the night finishing for any mistakes before placing it in a basket. 'The money I gain after delivering this should be enough for purchasing the fabric... Maybe I will have enough for another bundle for myself...'
Changing her dress for another. After fumbling with the buttons with stiff, swollen fingers. The changed dress Josephine felt a be snug around the waistline. "Strange? ...Did this shrink after drying?" Josephine was aware that she hadn't been eating proper meals as of late.
"I should purchase more threads instead of just fabric to fix it." Brushed off the tight feel as something she can repair later.
Leaving her home, stopping by a few houses away at an customer place of residence. Knocking the back door a few times, an women with a thick frame opened it.
"Oh! Josephine dearie!" The woman greeted her happily.
"Hello Patricia, I have finished what you ordered. I hoped it's towards your liking." Josephine handed Patricia the pack up dress she ordered for her youngest daughter.
Examining closely since Patricia eyes can't see clearly pass her own stretched out arms. She couldn't tell how Josephine looked now without taking an extra step closer. Failing to notice and pointing out Josephine diminished appearance.
"It's incredible! You really should find work in those boutiques those noble ladies love to visit! I doubt they will nitpick at whatever those hands of yours can create!" Loudly showering Josephine with praises. Patricia eyes may had weakened over time, but her heartfelt voice didn't.
Josephine stammered, "No, no, this can hardly compare to those fine works of art they display. I should only do what I'm best at." Lowering herself as someone insignificant, that such praise doesn't suit someone like her.
Patricia calmly folded the dress, "Josephine, dear, you are young! Life is about taking chances! Don't let it pass you by without even attempting." Going back inside her home before returning with a small sack of coins. Placing it Josephine hands, feeling it was heavier than usual.
"I put in a bit of extra for you. Please treat yourself to something wonderful. Think of it being an old woman wish!" Pushing back Josephine attempt to return the extra coins.
"But!"
"No buts! Are you really tossing aside my wish for you?" Patricia, a mother of three boys and two girls stood her ground. Josephine had no hopes in changing Patricia mind.
Taking a deep breath, "Fine, Thank you Patricia. I'm truly grateful for your generosity. Please let me know if you had any orders later. I will take care of them." Accepting she wasn't going to win against Patricia.
"Certainly! Have a good day Josephine!" Waving goodbye as Josephine walked away on unsteady feet. Clutching the small sack of coins given to her as she made her way towards the market.
Weaving through the crowds of people, she is thinking over what Patricia said. 'Life is about taking chances. But is that even possible? Thomas wouldn't like that at all if I worked at some boutique and not taking care of our home...' The thought of her husband made the weight on her shoulders feel heavier than before. 'He would try to make sure I won't be able to leave the house just by mentioning it...'
Seeing the Silk & Wool stall not far off, her vision swimming from lack of energy.
"Excuse me? Has.. my order for... fustian come... in?" she asked. Suddenly out of breath for some reason.
"Fustian? Check with the man over there, lady, I'm busy." The burly vendor looked up from his ledger. As he did, the afternoon sun caught the grease on his brow and the harsh line of his jaw. For a split second, the market noise died.
The man's face shifted. The vendor's eyes didn't just look at her; they saw pass her. The burly set of his shoulders widened until they blocked out the sun. It wasn't the vendor anymore. It was Thomas.
Josephine let out a strangled gasp, her hands flying to her mouth to keep her soul from leaping out. She didn't see a vendor; she saw her husband frowning at her.
She whirled around and bolted. She didn't run like a woman with a destination; she ran like an animal that had caught the scent of blood. Josephine scrambled past stalls, colliding with onlookers. Not stopping to voiced out an apology for doing so, her head spin with a sudden, violent vertigo.
"Josephine! Stop!" Bethel's voice echoed behind her, sharp and desperate. Bethel wasn't expecting this at all! The sight of Josephine running as if someone was hunting her.
Josephine didn't hear her. She only heard the heavy, imaginary thud of Thomas's boots behind her. She dove into a narrow, desolate alleyway between two warehouses. The air here was stagnant, thick with the dust of dried peppers and the rot of discarded crates. It was a dead end, a world of grey stone and shadows.
Her knees hit the cobbles first. Her stomach, empty of food but full of bile and terror, revolted. She retched, a agonizing, dry sound that tore at her throat.
"Josephine, please, look at me." Bethel was there, skidding to a halt in the dirt. She reached out, but seeing the way Josephine flinched, she pulled her hands back, her own face twisted in sorrow at the sight of Josephine state.
Josephine looked up. Her eyes were glazed, the sunken cheeks appearing even more skeletal in the harsh shadows of the alley. She looked at Bethel.
"The candle... went out," Josephine wheezed, her voice a dry rattle. Her eyes rolled back. The world, finally went black. She slumped forward into Bethel arms.
Bethel held Josephine unconscious body carefully. Worried that one wrong move will cause more harm than good. Looking behind to see Rupert walking towards them. Effortlessly scooping Josephine's frail form into his arms. She weighed almost nothing.
Taking Josephine fallen belongings. Bethel wasn't prepared for such a situation to transpired.
"Mr. Graves, is there a resting area we could use?"
"Yes, the workers have one, follow me." Rupert replied. Adjusting Josephine in his arms to make her more comfortable.
"Sigh..." Clearing her forehead by wiping back her fringes. "F*ck"