Chapter 10: Gateway to Unconsciousness

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As the weeks passed, Liana began pondering many small things while she did the laundry, scrubbed the floor - there was only one floor - washed the dishes, got wood for the fireplace so that it could keep on burning in the evenings, and made their daily three meals, sometimes while listening to Taylor Swift music.

She still worked at the candy store - she just wore a corset to hide her growing belly. The growth wasn't noticeable yet, but it accumulated to be. Without clothes, at least.

She had also begun posing for the paintings the art guy talked to her about a while ago. She didn't find that much effort in sitting still for hours, chin in hand, staring at a random, mundane object in the distance. The painter - Gabriel Martin his name was - preferred painting her with her hair down, while wearing a dull gray bonnet and her maxi yellow long sleeved dress or another outfit of the like.

Paul was supportive of her...condition, often helping her with household chores, when she grew heavy at the top and it started to get too much for her - though speaking very little about their wedding night or the consequences thereof. Sometimes she'd catch him sitting on the ground by the river, early in the evenings or late at night, staring with eyes that didn't see anything or anyone.

Then she'd place her hand on his shoulder, gently without a word. Liana's instinct told her not to ask her boyfriend what was wrong. Sometimes he'd turn his head to look at her and give her an appreciative, soft little smile that instantly made her feel that nothing else really mattered. Sometimes she'd join him, sitting beside her "dear young husband, the big dark chocolate chief" like Liana once called him. Once again, without a word.

They'd both stare at nothing until they got tired of staring at nothing, and then they would simultaneously just stand up and go to bed. For the first five months or so, Liana could still get up from the ground by herself, but then she grew too plump, and Paul had to help her stand up every time. He was always patient, though.

Some nights, they did sleep beside each other on a mattress. Usually Paul's mattress, like the night when Liana gave her body to him. Sometimes Liana's. She didn't mind him seeing her in her summer nightgown without a dressing gown over it or even in her underwear, now. It came to three inches above her knees, it was all pink and purple and a little too glittery, but Paul apparently didn't mind... That much. About the last part, I mean. She often caught his eyes on her legs, and she liked the slightly stunned look of admiration in them. It made her feel good.

She didn't mind lying in her bra and panty next to him or even walking through the house in it. Sometimes he stroked her hair, which she put into two long fishtail braids at the sides of her head every night. She knew her hair was one of Paul's favourite things about her.

He'd pat her back slightly, and kiss the nape of her neck, but she kept her back turned to him. Once in a while, if she was really tired, she might fall asleep with her head on his bare chest... he wore nothing but pajama trousers... and when he fell asleep, she'd often roll over on her stomach and stare up at the ceiling till she got tired. Sometimes the sleep never came. Only worry.

At first she read the Bible every night...At first it helped...later, she couldn't concentrate on one single verse anymore. So she got up...and used something for it. Anything so she could lose consciousness. And no...Paul didn't know about it.

As the months passed, yes, they did wonder why Liana's or Paul's parents had still not offered to take her home or even send her away to a remedial school or to live in an orphanage and "abduct" her baby to raise him/her. Or even tell her to get an abortion. That might be a little bit better than saying AND doing nothing at all.

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