Chapter Text
Chapter 1
August 18, 1890
Henrietta Woodstone was numb.
She walked.
But only because Nanny pleaded and implored and would literally whoop her behind if she did not.
She ate.
But only because it was an automatic motion when food was placed in her hand. If she had been alone, Hetty would for sure have forgotten that food and water were necessary to survival. She did not register or answered to any normal signals from her body, everything was mechanical.
She fought.
But only because she could not lose her last connection to life. She fought for Thomas when Elias wanted to send him to boarding school just days after his little sister had passed away, and she felt the tiniest sliver of something when he was actually allowed to stay on at home for a little while longer…but she did not fight for herself.
She might never do so again.
She breathed.
But she did not want to, because it reminded her of how much her heart hurt, each inhale and exhale a trial of endurance. So Hetty refused to think about it. It was so much easier to make her mind go blank and just stare of into the horizon and just let her body continue on automatically as though it had been taken over by someone else.
She did not sleep.
Not that that was anything new, she had always had trouble sleeping but now it was horrendous. Closing her eyes at night brought back memories like insidious ghosts to torment her...so she did not. Instead, she stood at the window and stared up at the stars and counted them when the rest of the house slept.
She did not speak.
What was the point? A little nod or murmur of acknowledgement when necessary was good enough. But the real reason… Inside of her it felt as though there was a thick, viscous poison swirling and sloshing in her stomach and if she opened her mouth to speak, all of her pain might come pouring out like the stomach acid version of word vomit. And it might never stop, and that thought was terrifying.
She definitively did not sing.
Hetty was positive she would never sing again. That was something she used to do for her little girl…even the thought of trying to sing for someone else or even just her self was like razorblades to her heart. She was fairly certain that if she heard any singing in the foreseeable future, she would do what ever it took to shut the aforementioned up
She existed, but she did not live.
Henrietta Woodstone no longer had a reason to.
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August 25, 1890
It was to sunny of a day…
Just four weeks ago Adelia had been pestering her about a pet…just three weeks ago she and her brother had been playing hide and seek in Woodstone manor…just two weeks ago her little girl was everything.
And now…now Hetty drowned in a sea of the color black. Black shoes, black suits, black socks, black ties. She was surrounded by the sounds of sobbing and crying and yet she could barely produce her own tears. The only thing she could think about was how much she did not want to be there. That thought invaded her mind again and again and again. She did not want to be there, she did not want to be there, she did not want to be there!
The veil over her face was gauzy and fine but she could feel it scrape across her skin with every breath she took…she could not breath through it, she could not! Her black dress was heavy and hot, and she felt like the thick fabric was suffocating her…she was trapped…she could not breathe…she could not think…she was to hot! It was all to much, she did not want to be there! Her sister’s hand on her knee was the only thing she could cling to and she held on tight, like Margaret was a grounding force, like she was not alone. But she was…she was alone. Her little girl was not there anymore, and that thought was like a sharp knife that carved up her insides again and again. The pain was immediate, shocking in its intensity and it would not let up. Every breath she took was a breath that her little girl did not, and she did not want to be there! Her skin felt wrong, like it was to tight, everything felt wrong, wrong, wrong. She could not breathe. The sounds were suffocating her. She felt like she was being buried alive in her own body.
She wanted to scream but she could not…she could not…she needed to leave, and she told Margaret, at least she thought she told Margaret, but the words may not had left her mouth, she could not tell because everything was so loud! All she knew was that she needed to leave, that she could not breathe, that everything was wrong! She twisted, tried to escape her own body, what if she screamed? Would everyone leave? Would they be quiet? Everything was just to much! She gasped, she could not get enough air through the veil, she just wanted to leave, please, why would they not just let her leave?
She could hear how Margaret shushed her gently, tried to calm her down, her hand was on her cheek tried to bring her focus back. “it is almost over dear” Margarets voice was soft, and Hetty wanted so much for this to be over…but…this would be the last time she would see her little girl and she could feel a scream building up inside her, it was not in her throat, it was somewhere deeper, somewhere deep inside. No, no she was not ready, she was not ready to say goodbye…she had carried her within her for nine long months and she had adored her little face from the first moment she had laid eyes on it…just a couple of weeks ago her little girl had had a tea party and played with her friends, just a couple of weeks ago Hetty could still read her bedtime stories, just a couple of weeks ago she was brushing her hair, just a couple of weeks ago she had been living and breathing and smiling and laughing, just a couple of weeks ago she was her heart and joy and now she was gone…how could she be gone?
The organ had stopped playing and Elias grabbed her shoulder much to roughly, commanded her to get her self together but his mouth closed when their eyes met, her gaze ablaze and for the first time ever he was the one to look away and Hetty felt empowered, if only for just a brief while.
Then…vaguely she registered that people in her row had begun standing and that Margaret was trying to get her to her feet and when she finally stood her sister led her forward…towards a large coffin…much to large for a little girl and when they finally reached it Hetty had to force herself to look down. A small girl with long red curls rested there, peacefully still…reaching down Hetty moved the red strands from her face and flinched slightly at how cold she was… This would be the last time...the last time she would rest her eyes upon her… She would never see her beloved face again, never feel her little arms around her neck and that thought almost brought her to her knees. It was only her sisters arm laced with hers that kept her upright.
Her little girl, she was to small for that big coffin! “Henrietta” Margaret prompted her, her voice sounded far away…not really reaching Hetty…her grief felt to big for her body, to big for her to handle and she just stared at her girl. She took a wobbly step to the side, almost tripping over her own feet but then regained her balance and her arm slipped away from Margarets, she did not register if her sister said anything because she could not see or hear anything but her little girl and reaching out her hand she let her fingers grace over the round cheek…so cold. She was never cold before, her little girl.
She was vaguely aware of a line forming behind her, people that wanted to pay her little girl their respect but Hetty did not want to move, as long as she was standing here Adelia was still with her…so she bent down to kiss her, pressed her lips to her little girls forehead and felt how a singular tear dropped on to her daughters face and watched it trickle its way down Adelias cheek and into her hair…mesmerized Hetty followed its path with her finger and then caressed the long red locks and as she continued to touch the tresses it all ultimately hit her with full force.
She would never see her daughters’ bright blue eyes shine at her again.
She would never hear her laughter in the morning.
She would never feel her body against hers when she sought comfort from a nightmare that haunted her.
She would not watch her grow.
There would be no more kisses on the forehead.
No more.
Her entire life halted at the age of six…forever.
That was the notion that ultimately broke Hetty, and she stumbled back as her tears finally begun to fall freely, they trailed hotly down her cheeks beyond her ability to stop them and sinking to her knees beside the coffin she put her face into her hands and wept.
TBC