Tabitha

Just a fair warning before you read this -
This excerpt contains abuse towards a woman and violent action.


The fire in the fireplace warmed the sitting room, throwing shadows across the furniture and walls. Tabitha sat across from her fiance in the small chair, writing notes in her notebook. Notes about the on-goings and interesting things she has seen and noticed in the mansion; some who she has talked too. William, her fiance, lit his pipe, took two puffs, and turned the page of his Bible. His beliefs were much stronger than hers, he lived in the Bible. His opinions, his words, his soul belonged to Christ. She had always wanted to share what she saw in the mansion with him, but the burning realization of how serious that would be kept her from doing so. He already accused her of meddling in Devils Magic, which she had not. Witchcraft was nothing that she was interested in, only Ghosts and Spirits. The Ghosts she believed in would be deemed as Demons to William, and he would have her repent her sins and pray for salvation. His beliefs disproved hers, and there were many things she would never let him know about her because of his beliefs, but she loved him. And that love was the only thing that kept her from leaving. Their relationship was not healthy, and she knew that. The bruises on her body proved that, the bruises on her heart told her that constantly. She had nowhere to go, and she wasn't wealthy. William provided her a shelter, money, and the love she needed.
"What is it that you are writing?" William asked, taking another puff of his pipe.
"Nothing," Tabitha said, skeptical. "Just my normal muses."
William raised an eyebrow. "Let me see them."
Her heart raced suddenly and she drew the notebook close to her heart. "N-no. It's quite alright, they aren't worth reading."
"I dare say they are." He said, reaching for the notebook. "Let me see what you have written."
She couldn't, she wouldn't, it wasn't worth the hours of punishment she'd have to endure. It wasn't worth it. "No Will. These are mine, and I say no."
He set his eyes on hers, giving her a stare that she feared at once. She stood rather quickly, still clutching the book to her bosom. "I am going to go to bed now."
His gaze followed her as she left the room and bounded up the large staircase. His body radiated with anger. He waited silently for a few moments, then stood and followed Tabitha to their room.
In the room she knelt before the large chest that she had brought back from her childhood home. She unlocked the lock and lifted the top, revealing her papers and muses from years ago to present. Two already full notebooks lay ontop of the rest of the papers, sketches of the girl in the painting smiled at her. Tabitha placed her notebook inside and shut the lid, she quickly locked the lock and returned the key to its place underneath the chest.
"So you are hiding things from me." Came a voice that made her blood run cold.
William stood in the doorway, the same glare he had used in the sitting room on his face.
"No, I am not." She retorted, moving away from the chest, away from the doorway. "I have things that I only look at. I have my privacy, William. You don't let me look at things you look at, you don't let me touch your Bible."
He walked up towards her, his anger evident on his face. "You are a woman, you are my woman, and my women do not hide things from me."
"You don't own me." Tabitha said, fear and anger growing in her stomach.
His eyes blazed and he pulled his hand back. The blow took hold of the entire left side of her face and she cried out.
"William!"
"You will not talk like that, Tabitha." He watched as she gasped and rubbed her face, trying to ease the pain. He took satisfication out of watching her eyes swell with tears. "You insult me, you are pathetic." He slapped her face again and she doubled over, crumpling against the side of their bed.
"William please," she pleaded, looking up at him. "Please."
He threw his foot towards her stomach, knocking the wind out of her. She gasped and cried, doubled over on the floor. She held her stomach and sobbed, miserable and afraid.
"You live in my house, you are mine. You will ask for forgiveness, and you will show me what it is that you spend so much time writing." William ordered. She didn't answer, too afraid to wonder if his words needed answering.
"Do you understand me?"
She grew angry now. She didn't need this, she wasn't his, she needed to leave. She couldn't, she can't...He'd be the death of her, she knew that. He wasn't good.
Bravery overtook her and she glared up at his face. "You are a horrible man. I pray that God laughs at your face and sends you to the firery depths of Hell."
A pain unlike no other spread over her face and she collapsed in shock. Her jaw and cheek bones were on fire and she grasped her face in disbelief. For the first time, he had punched her in the face. Fresh tears poured from her eyes and she clawed at the ground, trying to find relief from the pain.
He bent down towards her and grabbed her by the back of the head, pulling her up by the hair. She wouldn't look him in the eyes, she couldn't, she turned her head away. He slapped her across the face. "Look at me!"
She turned slowly and looked him in the eyes, she sobbed and tried to clutch the hand grabbing her hair.
"You insult me and my God, the God who will forgive me. You are hiding things from me, hiding spells and prayers to Evil. God will not forgive those who meddle in Witchcraft."
She glared at him. He didn't know her, he didn't know God.
He touched her lip and she flinched away, his touch seemed to burn her. William placed his finger before her, her blood dripped down the length of his finger. "Do you see this? You bleed because of your sins."
"I bleed because of you!" she spat in his face.
A slap to the face brought her more pain, but this time she did not cry out. She ignored the pain, her anger was too great.
"I do nothing but try to help you!" He yelled, his hand threatened to make contact with her face again. "You are pathetic, you are worthless, you are nothing without my help! God would not spare you without me. You worship Demons and practice Devils Magic, and you will stop!" The threat was fulfilled and she flinched back as his hand hit her across her bruised cheekbone.
He threw her back onto the floor and stood up. She lay on the carpet, her sobs were ending and she tried to calm down. Dark bruises were forming on her face, and she could feel the bruise on her stomach. He watched her as she silently and carefully sat up, holding onto the side of their bed. He watched as she wiped the blood from her lip and chin, as she cradled her stomach.
"Tabitha,"
She didn't look up, she didn't want to look at the sastisfication in his face. She hated him.
"Tabitha," William said again, this time his voice was quieter. "You know I love you."
He bent over and forced her chin up, forced her to look at him. "I love you more than you will ever know." And he forced her to kiss him.
He left Tabitha in the bedroom, left her to cry and heal. She couldn't heal, her soul would never heal; the wounds were too deep. As she lay on the bedroom floor she broke. There was no love, there never was; only securtity and lust. She hated him, hated him as a person, and as a man. No, he isn't a man. He never would be a man. She was broken, and so was her soul.