Power and Lies

Two

"You only feel powerless because your fear has given your power to the object of your fear. Once you realize this, you can claim it back."
-Kamand Kojouri

Freya smoothed the fabric of her dress down nervously as she stared out the window. The moonlight lit up the cobblestoned road which was empty save the shadows of homes. She had abandoned the idea of sleep long ago. She did not see the use in laying there near Lee staring at a ceiling she could not see. So she sat. Hours passed by like they were nothing and she tried her best to roll over the fear she had settled in her chest. In a perfect world she would be safe from the repercussions of another, but this was not that world and whether she liked it or not her life was tied to the fool that still slumbered peacefully. Bitter resentment burned deep within her threatening to suffocate her and she finally gave up her staring contest and gathered a jacket from the door. If she could not sleep she may as well walk. If she ran into anyone she could simply lie about who she was. It would be too dark for them to verify her identity anyway.

The night was colder than she had thought it would be and she wrapped the coat closer to her skin. The city was noisier than she imagined it to be for this time. She could hear jazz playing softly from some windows that were lit by candlelight. She could not remember the last time she was up at this time. Maybe her wedding night, when she was far too nervous to sleep. It had been butterflies then, happiness had become a disease and she was invaded by it. Now she was not entirely unsure that her husband was not trying to have her killed by the way of his own idiocy. She continued to turn on streets, careful not to stray too far from her home. She knew her way around a few blocks but any further and she was not confident she could make it back to the imposing brick prison she called home. It was small, barely anything to look at. She had imagined a large home when she was young, one where she could have maids and play in more rooms than one depending on her mood. Instead she was in a small house which shared walls with her neighbors. Aside from her parlor and bedroom there was hardly anything at all, save the small kitchen and toilet set to the side. She had hated it from the moment she moved in; the wallpaper was peeling and the home smelled of old age. But youthful naivety had allowed her to think it was simply a promising template to something greater to come.

When she was young her father had taken her to London, showing her there was life outside of the small town she was from. He was a cruel man, often drunk and swinging his fists at those who deserved to catch them the least. But that weekend he was kind. Kinder than she had ever remembered him being, showing her the large expanse of buildings and unique people. He had a tale for every building they passed as though he had another life here, one he was desperate to share with her. That had been his greatest cruelty- to show her freedom and then to take it away again. She had never liked cities after that. Instead she had resolved to be the perfect wife and mother. Her mother had told her once that women were born actresses- they acted as though they were not hungry, not in pain, not stressed; she was so tired of it. It placed a burden on her soul she could not carry forever. It was so terribly heavy. It was then the tears came, quietly at first, then all at once. It was pain ripping apart her ribcage and slashing her heart.

She was not sure how long she sat on the patch of grass near a small shop, but eventually she saw daylight creeping in between buildings and stood to her feet. Lee would be awake soon. And she had breakfast to make. As though she was an actress on the grandest stage she wiped her eyes and smiled, making her way back to her home and in the door.

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The smell of eggs permeated the air and finally Lee was coaxed from the bed. Freya rolled her eyes as he clutched his head in pain.