Have Faith

Chapter 20

"I told her once I wasn't good at anything. She told me survival is a talent." Susanna Kaysen, Girl, Interrupted

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Chapter Twenty

George had been startlingly pleasant to Faith upon her return. He had sent Ruth and Olivia away to welcome her home. That was all he had said.

But Faith could sense his displeasure, his anger. Her actions were humiliating to him. Of course, the hospital story would be believed by the public, George would see to that. But in private?

Faith was certain that the shock had prevented his true ire.

George was not the sort of man to allow a woman's disobedience.

It was odd moving back into the routine she had once kept. Three and a half years and things were suddenly just the same as they always were. George kept to himself as Ruth chaperoned Faith, not so subtly ensuring that she did not run away again.

Faith's bedroom was unchanged. Clearly there had been no other woman staying. Everything she had left behind was still neatly folded in her wardrobe. Her scent bottles were all still perfectly aligned on her dressing table. The jewellery pieces she had left on purpose so as not to attract suspicion were all still where she had left them, strewn casually atop her table.

But everything was not the same. Faith would not allow it. She would not allow her daughter to grow up in a world where her mother sat down and simply let atrocious things happen to her.

That night, Faith's eyes shot open at the all too familiar squeak of her bedroom door.

It was not a loud squeak at all. It was not a squeak that warranted attention due to the annoyance. It was a slight, barely audible creak.

But to Faith, it had always been as loud as a church bell, alerting her to the opening of her door. And there was only ever one person who frequented her bedroom at all hours of the night.

Her heart started to hammer in her chest as her grip tightened on the bedclothes.

Creak. Creak. Creak.

The wooden floorboards shifted beneath the intruder's feet, screaming a warning.

The hairs on the back of Faith's neck stood up as the squeaking stopped, indicating that the intruder was now standing on the rug.

He was standing right behind her.

"I am sleeping," Faith murmured into her pillow. It took all the strength she had not to stammer.

"Well, I am awake," retorted George firmly.

His voice sent a shiver down her spine as Faith bit down on her bottom lip. This night would not end how George was planning. Absolutely not.

Faith screamed as her hair was pulled from behind. George had grabbed a fistful of her hair and had yanked her so that she was on her back and facing him. The safe cocoon of her bedclothes were then pulled away from her, leaving her feeling very exposed in her old nightdress.

It was dark, and Faith could only faintly see the outline of George's body.

"Quiet, dear. We do not want to wake the servants," George sneered as he seized Faith's wrists and wrapped his large hand around them both. He held her hands above her head. "Speaking of," he continued as he climbed onto the bed. His weight dipped the mattress and Faith involuntarily turned towards him. "I had an interesting discussion with a friend of yours today. Mr Carne."