Chapter Text
It had only been a year.
A year since you had arrived in the upbeat city that was New Orleans. A year since you had officially married your arranged betrothed. The one your family sold you to . And within that year, you were supposed to fall in love and start a new chapter of your life.
But life had other plans for you.
You used to dream of meeting your one true love. How theyโd court you, dance with you, sing to you, and kiss you all whilst whispering sweet words of desire and devotion to you. The fantasies of meeting someone who would make you the happiest woman to ever exist was what kept you so euphoric throughout your childhood. You had always hoped that when you finally met that special person, it would be love at first sight. That they would whisk you away into their arms, all whilst living a happy and domestic life with them. And that it would be true love.
But those dreams only shattered into millions of fragmented pieces on the date of your 21st birthday. The day your family sat you down with an unfamiliar man who seemed to be a decade older than you at least. His hair, dark and slicked back, and sharp dulled eyes that were filled with malicious intent. He looked like a man who owned an enormous amount of money, it showed from the way he dressed to the way he presented himself.
Your mother, you remember, called your name as you eyed the guest sitting in the parlour before gesturing towards him. โThis gentleman here is Vincent. We have arranged that he be your husband by next summer, why donโt you sit down and get to know him?โ Despite the vacant expression on your face that implied to anyone on the outside that this news didnโt affect you, inside you were seething and thoroughly disturbed with this abrupt news.
It was apparent rather quickly that this man had bought you. Your family had sold you like cattle . Vincent was a man who couldnโt seem to keep his blabbering mouth shut. He made it a point to make you aware of the fact that he had spent a lot of money for your hand in marriage. How could your family do that to you? Sell you off like a sheep to the slaughter. Especially to a man who looked rugged; like he held no genuine kindness inside himself.ย
It killed you inside. Knowing that for the rest of your days, you would have to love a man who despite put a lot into his appearance, and had a commonly attractive face, was a man who you found truly revolting and ugly . He was not easy on the eyes to you and you dreaded the thought of having to touch him, let alone having to faunicate with him. Yet you accepted it. More so, you learned to accept it. You had to, only to make this process easier on your psyche. There was a time you thought you could trick yourself into loving him. It wasnโt what you dreamt of, but maybe you could grow to love Vincent with time. Maybe there was more to him than how he presented himself when you first met him. Maybe he was a sweetheart under all that malicious aura he projected and those harsh words he spoke.
But oh how you were so wrong to even attempt to trick yourself into believing he could be kind; it wouldโve been easier on your mental state to not allow silly little maybes get your hopes up.
You could never entirely recall the time that your family forced you into courting Vincent. Every memory you had of that phase was a blur. It was easy to recognise that it was due to the constant dissociation you enacted on yourself whilst interacting with your now-husband. And no matter how hard you tried, you couldnโt force yourself to love him. Let alone like him. And only hate began to dictate your feelings towards him when you began to uncover that he was quite a misogynistic man.ย
His views disgusted you.
โA woman shouldnโt be able to vote; it is a ridiculous concept. Your species will ruin the very foundation of this country with this power in time, just watch.โ You recall him saying to you over a formal dinner at an extremely expensive restaurant. It was one of the first outings between the two of you, and you swore it hadnโt even been 10 minutes before he started baffling about his disgusting views towards women.
You learnt at that same dinner date that he expected you to be a closed off housewife that would essentially be his baby incubator. โOnly the most beautiful woman alive may produce my offspring, doll. You should be thankful that you rival the beauty of a goddess, else I would have never bought you.โ It was something he would remind you constantly. It was your looks that made him fascinated with you in the first place, not who you were, and it made you feel sick. Even when he attempted to say sweet things, they were laced with revolting words that brought you back down farther than they were supposed to lift you.
Blinking as your vision focused on the ceiling above you, you gripped the blankets on the bed, struggling to sit yourself up in an attempt to rid yourself from the thoughts of your times with your now-husband. Your body felt bruised. Probably because it was bruised. Bruised and beaten . They were constant reminders of what your husband had done to your body not only during your time with him, but moments ago too. Dried tear stains only wettened again as you allowed yourself to come out of the realm of dissociation. You hated how much of a monster your family had sold you to. How many more years would you have to live like this?
This was only year one.
You let your shaken legs hold your body up as you slowly stumbled into the bathroom. Panting as you leaned against the sink, you looked in the mirror as you assessed that yet again, Vincent hadnโt left even a scratch on your face. It was the only place he refused to vandalise. Youโd often wonder if it was because he didnโt want to harm the beauty you had, or if he just didnโt want outsiders to catch on to what he did to you behind closed doors.
Probably both.
A distressed groan left your lips as the pain in your lower abdomen spiked up without warning, tears dripped onto the backs of your palms as you attempted to ease the pain. You didnโt want to look; you refused to look. You didnโt want to see the damage Vincent had inflicted upon your lower body, but you had no choice. You had to assess the damage .
Looking down slowly, a sharp sob left your lips as you recognised the red liquid dripping down from your core and onto your thighs as blood. Your eyes shut tight as your knuckles turned white from clenching the sink, allowing an ugly silent sob to seep from your gritted teeth. It made sense as to why your intimate area hurt so much now. Panic consumed you. What had he done to make you bleed? Had he torn something inside? What should you do? Did you need to visit a doctor?
Your whole body stiffened as you heard the floorboards creak behind you, pulling you from your thoughts of panic. โIf youโd stop screaming โnoโ whilst I try to bed you, and at least tried to enjoy it, I wouldnโt have to be so brute with you, doll.โ You dared not to look towards the doorway as his shadow encased your smaller frame. Why was he here? You were certain he had left the house once he had finished forcing you into acts you didnโt want to partake in.
You were stupid to think you were temporarily relieved from him.
As you heard him scoff from your lack of response, you flinched. โYou are overreacting my dear doll, you will be fine.โ He referred to your bleeding area. Slowly, he approached you, the sounds of his gatsby shoes thudding toward you frightened you, haunted you, even. โNow,โ His polished shoes stopped in front of you. โ Get up. โ
His hands swiftly gripped your upper arms with a roughness you knew too well; dragging you back into the bedroom despite your panicked cries and pleads of mercy. Throwing you onto the bed you only just managed to get up from, you sobbed silently, attempting to hide your body away from him. His moves were always unpredictable when he was in this mood; always ranging between sexual abuse or a beating. You had to decide which one was the easiest to endure.
And sex, you learnt, was the only thing you could use to stop his bad moods. Even if you never wanted it.
Even if it made you feel like filth.
His face lowered into yours. โYouโre going to go to the butchers today to get some prime venison, and make what those dirty peasants eat; Jambalaya.โ He began to ramble as he grabbed your wrists and pinned you further into the bed. โI donโt care if youโve never made it, I donโt care if you donโt know what it is , you better make it, and you better make it good .โ He spat at you, causing your head to tilt away from him in disgust and fear. โYou better look your best too. Maybe that red dress you have, the one that shows off your fat fucking tits.โ His fingers gripped your right mound tightly, nails piercing into your skin from the pressure.ย
You recoiled with abhorrence, sucking air through your teeth as you attempted to ignore the pain. Focusing on his voice and not the situation you were in, you made a mental note to remember all of his words; there would be consequences if not. And oh did he have a way with words . Always seeming to speak the most despicable things. A brute was what he was, one who always reduced you to your body with every sentence he spoke. He always knew what to say to make you feel worthless, to make you feel like what he nicknamed you: a doll.
Vincent moved his hand from your breast to your face as he forced you to look at him. You struggled as you attempted to pull away from him before he shoved his vile tongue into your mouth. Your wrists struggled against his as you attempted to tug away from him, to halt the assault on your body and mouth. Was his breath always this bad? You cringed, attempting to prevent the sensation of bile threatening to leave your stomach as he continued to defile your mouth with his.
If only you had the courage to bite his nauseating tongue off.
Fortunately for you, he pulled away; putting you out of a bit of the misery he was currently inflicting upon you before he opened his mouth again. โSome big cheese prick of a radio host is coming over tonight,โ He spat, his saliva hitting you in the face as he continued to yap his lips. โAnd I need to make a good impression tonight and if you fuck it up,โ His grip around your face tightened, forcing your lips to pucker up. โWellโฆ I think you know, donโt you, doll?โ He quickly pecked your lips before pushing you into the bed further as he got off of you. Stiff as a board, your eyes followed him in fear as he stood in the doorway of your shared bedroom, watching his sinister smile that was directed towards you before he finally exited the room.ย
You didnโt make a sound, you didnโt dare to. Your body seemingly paralysed as you tried to stabilise yourself. Closing your eyes you began to heave, letting little tears silently spill from your already reddened eyes. You just wanted this torture to end, the pain in your heart to cease to exist. You just wanted to be free.
Despite your current meltdown, you smiled. A smile so tight that it stretched to the furthest corners of your face as you imagined your husband's death. Maybe he would have a heart attack, perhaps run over by something .ย
Maybe you could do it yourself .
Or maybe youโd get lucky and that serial killer you had heard about would end his life for you.ย
Before you could imagine more ways that your husband could perish , your mind kept drifting onto something else; the guest that was to appear in your home later. Yet every time you attempted to think back to your pleasant thoughts of finally being rid of your husband, your mind kept wandering back to the words he just spoke to you.
A radio host huh?
It wasnโt often that Vincent allowed visitors over; in fact, he only allowed visitors over when he was trying to smitten them into furthering his own business into greater success. It was confusing though. Trying to work your head around why Vincent would need an advertisement for his business. He was well off, you lived in the Garden District in New Orleans after all. Was there something he wasnโt telling you? Was his business failing?
You scoffed. Like heโd ever tell you.
Despite the events that just occurred, you focused on this mystery guest that was to enter your home later. Would it be a man or a woman? Oh you hoped it was a woman; it had been a whole year since you last truly interacted with a woman. Maybe you could be friends. Itโd be great to finally form a friendship-
Startled, you flinched in fear as you heard the front door slam shut, indicating that your bastard of a husband had finally left the house. You frowned as you let reality overcome you. Vincent would never allow you to befriend someone, he was a greedy man , with money and with you . The tears that drenched your cheeks couldnโt be stopped. You couldnโt help but etch your fingers into your hair, pulling as you tried to compose yourself.
You turned around, only to shove your face into a pillow as the screams of pain and sorrow howled from your lips as you reminded yourself that youโd probably be forced to be with that revolting man for the rest of your life. That you would never be allowed to enjoy the company of another person. To form relationships with others.
It had only been a year since you moved here.ย
How were you supposed to deal with this for the rest of your life?