1.2 Catherine
11:43 AM | Posted by
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The blinding light turns out to be the familiar sliver of sun creeping through where the curtains meet. Another day begins as all the others. I rise, wash and dress. The sounds and smells of the kitchen below do nothing to entice my stomach. My mission has nothing to do with food.
The kitchen staff greet me the same way each day. Hurried smiles as they prepare this and that. I walk my now-familiar route to the drawer, claim my prize and return up the winding stone stairs to my chamber.
The engravings on the wooden box hidden under my bed are foreign to me. They provide comfort as I trace my fingers over them before opening the lid and placing one small wooden toothpick in the box.
That makes ten.
Ten days since I have been released from the infirmary. Ten mornings greeted by the same sliver of light. Ten trips to the kitchen. Ten small wooden toothpicks in the box. Ten tiny little nails in my coffin...
Stop being so dramatic.
The little voice in my head inconsistently switches between pity and apathy.
I turn towards the windows and throw open the curtains, flooding the room with warmth and light. Actually today is the first time it really touches me.
This is a good thing.
Optimism is not expected but welcomed nonetheless. And I should feel lucky. In the ten days of my confinement, William has only visited my chamber at night twice. Although he has not spoken a word to me since our nuptials.
I push the memories of that day out of my mind and dress for the cold winter day. Today may be different. If I can feel the sun today, maybe there is hope for me after all.
