Weekly Writing – September 7 2024

I want her to wake up and see, even if it would be the death of me. To know I would do anything for her.
Not the way a maid is expected to do ‘anything’ for her lady. Clean her sheets, cinch her corset, of course I do – anyone paid a modest, dependable price would. I’ve tried for years to blaze the truth through my plain apron and looks, my modest gaze fixed on the floor I sweep every day, to shine with it. I would do anything for her.
Even if it were the death of me. When I saw the bruise wrapped like a bracelet around her arm, I knew.
She lies curled on her side, facing away from her noble husband, whose hands are just the size of that bruise. If she woke and saw me standing over them both, she wouldn’t understand. If she did understand, she would scream.
Will it work like in the story? Pouring poison in a man’s ear while he sleeps? I hope so. If not, I’ll do anything else it takes. Whatever it takes to free her from him.
I wish she would wake up and look at me as a saviour, but I don’t need her to. It will be enough to watch the bruises fade. To lay her cloak over her shoulders in the morning and tell her she looks beautiful, and see her smile again, even if it is only at her reflection in the mirror and I am hidden, invisible behind her radiant happiness.