𝑰𝑵𝑲 • 𝑻𝒆𝒘𝒌𝒆𝒔𝒃𝒖𝒓𝒚 / 𝑳𝒐𝒖𝒊𝒔 𝑷𝒂𝒓𝒕𝒓𝒊𝒅𝒈𝒆

Means To An End

Sometimes I wish we'd never met

Purely for peace of mind

But we did and now I'm left longing

For someone I must leave behind

—————

"Don't marry him."

If I could be honest with him, I would've told him I didn't have a choice. That there is nothing I wanted more than to be a free woman in the world, to have control. But saying that would mean admitting it to myself as well, and that was something I couldn't bring myself to do.

"Flo, you can't."

Saying it wouldn't change anything because I was the one who needed this marriage. Jonathan could go and find somebody else to legally bind himself to. But my options were far more limited.

I was grateful to him, would be indebted for the rest of my life. He's doing me a favor my marrying me. Because I doubt many others would.

I'd, we'd made a mistake. And the things he says hurt. The way he's asking me not to do something I feel I need to do when he himself is in no position to make any offers in it's place.

I'm so stuck in this world. I feel as frozen as the path I walk along, covered in this layer of constricting frost. And I'm pretty sure the tears on my cheeks would have turned to ice long ago if my skin wasn't burning.

It's pitch black outside as I walk home. Night has long gone and it is now early morning. I can't even remember this morning, it feels like it was so long ago. How did everything go so wrong so quickly.

This night could have been magical. This night would have been magical, if I had left earlier. I was greedy, I wanted things to last longer, holding onto them too tightly until they burst in my clutches.

The lights are on in the distance as I jog the final stretch. Clambering up the steps and onto the porch before push the door open and turning around to shut it. I press both palms flat against the chilled wood and let out a breath.

But I can't bear the silence that surrounds me. It reminds me of the moments before he spoke, when things were so perfect, so quiet. My mind is buzzing with noise as his words bounce off the walls of my brain. I need them stop.

The gentle creaking of floorboards startle me from behind, removing me from my thoughts. Everything stops for a second and I get the peace that I crave. But I don't think I want it anymore. I know he's upset that I stayed and right now, so am I.

When I turn around, I'm prepared to dote and apologize. But I can't seem to speak. He's sat on the edge of my bed and for a split second my mind wonders what he would do if he knew T had sat in that exact spot.

He looks more upset than I had expected him to, and entirely sober, as if he hand't had a drop of liquor in the past year. His stare is uncomfortable and his previously slicked hair lies shaken apart atop his head.

I'm confused until my eyes trail down his flexed arm. His hand is pressed down against the pages of my book, holding it open somewhere in the middle. He's well into it and I'm wondering just how much of it he read.

He picks I up and places it in his lap, closing it in the process. I flinch at the sound of pages slapping, his fingers gripping tightly onto the leather bound cover. He points a tensed finger at it, but with the way he's glaring, it may as well be pointed at me. His jaw remains tight, clenched, as he speaks quietly.

"What is this." It doesn't even sound like a question. His choice of words teeter on the edge of command and suddenly, I feel scrutinized under his gaze.