'Shut your mouth, girl! You will be no one's wife but mine, do you understand me?!' I whimpered as he pinned me to the bed and pressed his palm into my lower belly. 'This womb of yours shall only carry my children. Don't you even dare to think about...
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--Allison--
I wonder what the point of me being born a woman was?
Mother would often use to tell me that I should find a good husband and give life to some wonderful children as she had. However, Father tells me that everyone should make a contribution to the world they're born into - be it, man or woman.
Well, Mother had died a long time ago, so naturally, I was raised on what my father taught me. Although, sometimes, you come to understand that reality doesn't always give you the opportunity to choose how to live your life.
"Allison! Stop daydreaming and bring in that damn flour, girl!"
My daze snapped with a flutter of my eyes. Ah, Father was calling me. I guess I got distracted. The morning sky, painted with a tinge of orange from the sunrise was just so pretty to look at.
"Coming!" I hollered back, bending over to the new delivery of flour for this week. They were stacked together like heavy bags of concrete. I could only just barely curl my arms around the girth and hoist them up with the help of my knee. With a grunt, I propped one arm underneath the bag before cautiously wobbling over to the back door. Normally, it'd be one of my brothers doing this sort of heavy lifting but Timothée was out running an errand for the butchers next door and Charles was God knows where. Father was yapping on all morning about how he was probably still with whatever skirt he chased down last night and how he'll be hearing a definite earful once he gets back.
I huffed out in effort once I carefully settled the bag of flour down on the kitchen floor. Father was upon it in an instant. No time to waste. The delivery was already an hour late and it was the middle of the week. Which meant that the morning and the afternoon were the only chances we had to make much of a profit. "Quickly, the others as well!" He ordered, ushering me back to the rest of the delivery.
We needed to get most of the goods baked by seven. And, we needed most of our morning earnings by eight. And, that was only because Elias expected to have the protection fee of everyone in the neighbourhood delivered by eighty-thirty each month. I shivered at the thought of that preying gaze of his during the last run when I had arrived three minutes late.
And, amidst my thought, the next bag almost knocked me over completely, had it not been for the broad, solid chest I collided back into. Gentle, large hands positioned themselves on my shoulders to stabilise me, and a perky grin sprawled across the owner's lips once I peeked up to look at him. "Don't fall over now. Father will be furious if you spill any," his warm and tender voice warned as I parted my lips in familiarity.
Ah. "Brother!" I called, as he walked around to my front to help the bag off my arms with ease. Timothée lifted it onto his shoulder, before kneeling down to secure the last one under his other arm. "You're back. How did it go?" I asked as he heaved both the bags up.
"It went well," he strained out for a moment as he stood back up. The smile came back onto his face as he looked at me. "I managed to get Mr and Mrs De Villiers the money that they were owed just in time," Timothée assured softly as he led the way back into the bakery. As he entered the kitchen, I heard Father briefly greet him before immediately ushering him into work. We needed all the hands we could get. And, of course, with Charles still not back from last night, time was of the essence.
