Hollow Vows

Daylight awoke me like a strike of lightning as the housekeeper snapped the curtains back. I knew I needed to begin preparations for today, but the idea of sleeping tempted me more. Persistent rain, battering outside, and the wind was howling to be let in. It was a hostile day. The fire in the hearth crackled loudly and prodded me up as if it were a hand poking my shoulder. I grumbled something unladylike and rolled over, burying my head in the suffocating pile of pillows. Pulling the heavy fur blanket over my shoulders like a shroud, I tried to drown out my mother’s voice as she stormed into the room. The shadows in the corners deepened, whispering secrets of solitude while the weight of today pressed down. The rain, the fire, and the distant sound of seagulls mixed into harmony, lulling me back into the depths of slumber, a warm and loving embrace... ‘Priscilla’ My mother shrieked in annoyance as she plopped onto my bed, drawing me out from the bedcovers like a whirlpool and then the weight of her presence threatening to pull me under. ‘Just a little longer, please, mother,’ I muttered in response, attempting to maintain my composure and conceal the despair brewing over my uncertain future. For a brief, reckless moment, I imagined myself refusing- I would stand in front of the altar and saying "no" in a voice so loud I would shake the rafters.My mother, seemingly unaware, pressed on with her excited ramble, ignoring the tears that had begun to slip from my closed eyes. ‘Priscilla, today is an important day.....the venue is set...we will be secured... Priscilla? Priscilla, are you awake? - I couldn’t bear to listen to her words; the longer I thought about them, the sharper the stab in my heart became, constricting my throat. I didn't want my mother to see my vulnerability, so I clung to silence, desperate to shield my pain from her gaze. With aching arms, I lifted myself out of the sleep clinging to me like tar. I arched my back much like a cat would do, savoring the cracks down my back. Slowly, I removed my legs from the blanket, and the cold hit me; even with the roaring fire, it felt as though I had just dunked my feet in ice water. I took a sharp inhale. My mother had fallen silent, her gaze fixed on me, and I felt her scrutiny in every movement of my body, as if each breath and step was laid bare under her eyes. I picked up my robe from the armoire, and the crisp silk slid perfectly against my satin nightgown. ‘You may leave us,’ I said to the housekeeper, who had slithered in before I had awoken and begun making my bed. I crossed the room, avoiding my mother's gaze as I made my way to the window to survey the miserable day unfolding before us. The weak shards of sunlight waned, swallowed by a brooding cloud that obscured any remnants of its dwindling warmth. I gazed across the dock, where boats writhed like restless spirits upon the churning waves, with men scrambling across the slick, treacherous deck. A dark ship, larger than the rest, loomed at the end of the pier, its black sails heavy with rain-was that he have one like that? I pondered-one that scary that dances as threatening on the waves, I feel that he would. The thought sent a shudder through me, an omen drifting on the tide. A chill sliced through me as I envisioned myself caught in the storm that forever tormented these shores. I retreated closer to the flickering fire, its warmth a fragile refuge against the howling wind that battered the window, pleading to be let in, as if desperate for solace.