Emmy
☽ 𝓁𝑜𝓈𝒾𝓃𝑔 𝓂𝓎 𝓂𝒾𝓃𝒹 ☾
Cic·a·trize
(v) to find healing by the process of forming scars
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Story 𝓒𝓲𝓬𝓪𝓽𝓻𝓲𝔃𝓮
- Thread starter Emmy
- Start date
Cic·a·trize
(v) to find healing by the process of forming scars
Emmy
☽ 𝓁𝑜𝓈𝒾𝓃𝑔 𝓂𝓎 𝓂𝒾𝓃𝒹 ☾
Chapter I
Crisp autumn air swirled Elena’s long locks of golden over her shoulders. Though she wore a knitted sweater that offered some protection from the breeze that rustled the auburn leaves, a shiver danced its way up her spine. It was her favorite season of all, however, it was undoubtedly this time of year that made her heart yearn to have her parents back the most. There wasn’t a price she wouldn’t pay to walk into her quaint childhood home to see her mother making the small town’s favorite pumpkin pie with the little intricate leaves made of crust, or to see her father outside raking the fallen leaves from the tall oak trees for her to jump into as if she would always be that little girl she had been when he passed on to another life. Her chest felt empty without them, knowing it would never quite be full again no matter how much time had passed or how many times the world continued to rotate in their absence.
A sigh drifted from her soft lips, misty condensation twirling into the air. Her emerald eyes glossed over all the tall pines along the hills and mountains that outstretched towards the cloudy skies above, hues of orange and brown seemingly so warm compared to the dropping temperatures. She wondered if she, too, would die to herself and be reborn just as the flora that surrounded her in the forest just beyond her home’s backdoor. Was she more than the young adult that would forever be labeled the orphan, or was there more in store for her? Perhaps she would go on to be the homemaker and mother that her fiancé had planned out for her existence, but something inside of her just wanted more. She wanted to go on to be something, someone, other than the simple girl in the town she loved so dear. She wanted to become more than a sounding board for a man that raised a hand to her when he had too much dark rum at the local bar.
But thinking about that was terrifying. Change in her life hadn't been as beautiful as the dying autumn leaves. Instead, it left her feeling like she was drowning in blackened saltwater in the dead of winter. It never came easy and it usually drained her for all she was worth, like swimming until the muscles in your limbs gave out to exhaustion.
"Elena?" The deep rumble of a masculine voice cut through the gentle whispers of the leaves as they shifted under the weight of the breeze.
She knew the voice well, being owned by the man she had pledged her love and loyalty to. Samson could be just as sweet as he was a raging storm of spite and anger. As time went on, those endearing moments between them seemed to dwindle and be replaced with something more sinister. That particular year alone he had managed to overlook her birthday and their two-year anniversary all for the sake of going out with his buddies. She had spent both occasions alone in their home, no friends to be called after the event of her fiancé making it excruciatingly clear that there was no need for her to depend on anyone other than himself. He even succeeded in convincing her that they were a threat, in some way, to their relationship together.
"Coming!" She called as she pushed herself up from the old dead tree trunk she had perched herself upon. She knew better than to tarry too long when Samson beckoned her. Crunching could be heard with every step she took along the winding beaten path, her feet carrying her until she saw the sight of him standing there with his elbows pressed into the railing of the back porch. His dark brown orbs fell over her and she already knew he was angry by the rigidity of his broad shoulders. "What's wrong, honey?" She asked cautiously as she neared him, pausing with one foot on the bottom step of the wooden extension to the home.
"What's wrong?" He mocked her words, scoffing as he did. "The game is about to start and you haven't even so much as looked at the kitchen." Samson's words dripped with venom, clearly upset that she hadn't started on dinner in time for him to sit down with a full plate of food to watch the college league football game he was so enthralled by. "The place looks like a fucking pigsty, too. I really thought better of you by now, you know." He was talking to her in that condescending way of his, the one that always made her feel as small as a child and downright foolish.
"Right, I'm... I'm sorry, Sam. I forgot that was tonight," She murmured her apology, slowly making her way up the few stairs and past him to open the sliding glass door. The sooner she could accommodate to his demands, the sooner his growing agitation would die down- Or at least, that was her silent prayer.
The man, who was nearly seething by this point, was right on her heels as they entered into the open floorplan of the first level of the home. He was saying something about how it was Friday, that it was ridiculous how she could possibly forget what that meant. She had meekly apologized once more before her dainty hands went straight to work on preparing something quick and easy: spaghetti and meatballs.
On the right was the kitchen bathed in whites and honey brown, while the living room, cozy and lived-in, was to the left. Just past the kitchen was the hallway that housed the staircase and a half bath, along with the white front door. The walls of the structure had once echoed with laughter and gleeful murmurs of the future. Now, however, it had become nothing short of a prison cell of which the young blonde had to consistently attempt to convince herself was a safe haven. But when Samson was angry...
"Babe! When's the food gonna be done?" She heard Samson call far too loudly than what was needed as he sank into the couch, dark eyes trained on nothing but the television. "They're almost done with the first quarter," He grumbled.
Crisp autumn air swirled Elena’s long locks of golden over her shoulders. Though she wore a knitted sweater that offered some protection from the breeze that rustled the auburn leaves, a shiver danced its way up her spine. It was her favorite season of all, however, it was undoubtedly this time of year that made her heart yearn to have her parents back the most. There wasn’t a price she wouldn’t pay to walk into her quaint childhood home to see her mother making the small town’s favorite pumpkin pie with the little intricate leaves made of crust, or to see her father outside raking the fallen leaves from the tall oak trees for her to jump into as if she would always be that little girl she had been when he passed on to another life. Her chest felt empty without them, knowing it would never quite be full again no matter how much time had passed or how many times the world continued to rotate in their absence.
A sigh drifted from her soft lips, misty condensation twirling into the air. Her emerald eyes glossed over all the tall pines along the hills and mountains that outstretched towards the cloudy skies above, hues of orange and brown seemingly so warm compared to the dropping temperatures. She wondered if she, too, would die to herself and be reborn just as the flora that surrounded her in the forest just beyond her home’s backdoor. Was she more than the young adult that would forever be labeled the orphan, or was there more in store for her? Perhaps she would go on to be the homemaker and mother that her fiancé had planned out for her existence, but something inside of her just wanted more. She wanted to go on to be something, someone, other than the simple girl in the town she loved so dear. She wanted to become more than a sounding board for a man that raised a hand to her when he had too much dark rum at the local bar.
But thinking about that was terrifying. Change in her life hadn't been as beautiful as the dying autumn leaves. Instead, it left her feeling like she was drowning in blackened saltwater in the dead of winter. It never came easy and it usually drained her for all she was worth, like swimming until the muscles in your limbs gave out to exhaustion.
"Elena?" The deep rumble of a masculine voice cut through the gentle whispers of the leaves as they shifted under the weight of the breeze.
She knew the voice well, being owned by the man she had pledged her love and loyalty to. Samson could be just as sweet as he was a raging storm of spite and anger. As time went on, those endearing moments between them seemed to dwindle and be replaced with something more sinister. That particular year alone he had managed to overlook her birthday and their two-year anniversary all for the sake of going out with his buddies. She had spent both occasions alone in their home, no friends to be called after the event of her fiancé making it excruciatingly clear that there was no need for her to depend on anyone other than himself. He even succeeded in convincing her that they were a threat, in some way, to their relationship together.
"Coming!" She called as she pushed herself up from the old dead tree trunk she had perched herself upon. She knew better than to tarry too long when Samson beckoned her. Crunching could be heard with every step she took along the winding beaten path, her feet carrying her until she saw the sight of him standing there with his elbows pressed into the railing of the back porch. His dark brown orbs fell over her and she already knew he was angry by the rigidity of his broad shoulders. "What's wrong, honey?" She asked cautiously as she neared him, pausing with one foot on the bottom step of the wooden extension to the home.
"What's wrong?" He mocked her words, scoffing as he did. "The game is about to start and you haven't even so much as looked at the kitchen." Samson's words dripped with venom, clearly upset that she hadn't started on dinner in time for him to sit down with a full plate of food to watch the college league football game he was so enthralled by. "The place looks like a fucking pigsty, too. I really thought better of you by now, you know." He was talking to her in that condescending way of his, the one that always made her feel as small as a child and downright foolish.
"Right, I'm... I'm sorry, Sam. I forgot that was tonight," She murmured her apology, slowly making her way up the few stairs and past him to open the sliding glass door. The sooner she could accommodate to his demands, the sooner his growing agitation would die down- Or at least, that was her silent prayer.
The man, who was nearly seething by this point, was right on her heels as they entered into the open floorplan of the first level of the home. He was saying something about how it was Friday, that it was ridiculous how she could possibly forget what that meant. She had meekly apologized once more before her dainty hands went straight to work on preparing something quick and easy: spaghetti and meatballs.
On the right was the kitchen bathed in whites and honey brown, while the living room, cozy and lived-in, was to the left. Just past the kitchen was the hallway that housed the staircase and a half bath, along with the white front door. The walls of the structure had once echoed with laughter and gleeful murmurs of the future. Now, however, it had become nothing short of a prison cell of which the young blonde had to consistently attempt to convince herself was a safe haven. But when Samson was angry...
"Babe! When's the food gonna be done?" She heard Samson call far too loudly than what was needed as he sank into the couch, dark eyes trained on nothing but the television. "They're almost done with the first quarter," He grumbled.
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Emmy
☽ 𝓁𝑜𝓈𝒾𝓃𝑔 𝓂𝓎 𝓂𝒾𝓃𝒹 ☾
Chapter II
Elena's relationship with Samson had started two years prior.
It had been shortly after the passing of her last remaining parent; her ever-loving mother who had stepped over life's threshold after a too-late diagnosis of stage four leukemia. It was a horribly painful sight for the, then, sixteen-year-old girl to witness. Nights spent catering to the dying woman, moving her from bed to couch to the bathroom just to repeat it all over again throughout the day, had been tiring in more than one meaning of the word. Elena had watched over the older woman through the nosebleeds, the enormous amount of weight loss, aches and pains, and endless fatigue all on her own; Up until the day of her death. In reality, it had been relatively quick, but to her, she swore it wasn't anything short of a slow, agonizing death. Her aunt hadn't even given enough thought to show up until her sister's will was in effect, giving her a small lump sum of money in exchange for watching over Elena until she was of legal age to care for herself.
Under her aunt Martha's unwatchful eye, she had stumbled across Samson Lee Miller.
He had appeared to be exactly what she needed to help her navigate the steep, treacherous mountain that was otherwise known as grieving. He had stepped up in a way that, quite frankly, none of their fellow classmates at Willow City High School ever expected him to. He was the football team's rising star, the quarterback that stood naturally tall and confident. He was no stranger to girls and seemed to have his manipulation tactics down pat. Selfish, indifferent, and complacent were all words you could describe him as. He was your stereotypical jock character, in raw honesty.
With Elena, however, he had pulled out all the stops. Before they were ever even an official item, he was sending her roses and daisies with accents of baby's breath, a handwritten note always attached to the clear plastic floral picks filled with sweet nothings. He would show up on her doorstep at the very first signs of a storm, insistent on holding her with every electrifying jolt of thunder that shook the walls of her childhood home. After school, he would take her on rides in his old Chevrolet pickup truck just to get her mind off of things for a while. He was, in her mind's eye, incredible. A prayer answered that she didn't even need to so much as utter.
She thought on these things as she sat on the couch, one bought and refurbished by her parents, curled up into her fiancé's side as the game he so loved came to an end. His arm was loosely thrown around her shoulders, an empty white plate on the wooden coffee table along with five drained beer bottles. In a sudden motion, he was pulling her closer to him as if he needed to make it perfectly clear that she was his and no one else's, even though not a single soul was within a few miles of them. He pulled her head to his chest with a less than gentle hand, his arm around her shoulders snuggly holding her to him. He dipped his head lower, to rest his chin on the top of the crown of her head. She could smell the alcohol on him before he even spoke, the sound of his voice rumbling and echoing in her eardrum as she leaned against him.
"You know you'll always have me. Right, Elena?" He spoke, posing less of a question and more of a statement.
"Yes," She murmured within a tinge of despondency.
"And I'm all you have. You're fully dependent on me and what I provide for you." His way of reminding her that she had no family members left to care for her, no friends to call upon in her worst of nights. It was simply just Samson, always there and always watching. "I'm all you'll ever need."
She swallowed harshly, managing to nod even with his pressed hand to the side of her face. "Yes, baby," She agreed, a quiet and hollow sound from the depths of her chest.
He hummed in response, smiling to himself, pleased with the answers she fed to him; The ones he had made sure that she knew he expected from her. It was only then that his tight grasp on her had eased, running a nearly loving hand down the length of her blonde hair that ended in wispy waves at the small of her back. Her eyes fluttered closed, withdrawing and releasing a breath of relief as she relished in the morsel of comfort he offered up to her. She knew to enjoy these moments as they were fast and fleeting. So she simply lay there, most of her one-hundred and nine pounds pressed into him, the glow from the television across from them the only light source as it flickered with the ending scores from the football game. This was what she had come to believe was peace.
Just as quickly as the moment had begun, it was ended by the actions of the man. All at once, he pulled from her and stood, turning his head to watch her nearly topple over with the sudden motion. He lazily grinned before he stretched his arms well above his head and leaned back, a few cracks and pops could be heard from his spine. "Alright, time for you to clean up while I hop into bed. I got a big day tomorrow, helping my uncle on his farm." He turned to face her, an expectant expression falling over his features. He easily towered over her, even more so in her seated position, casting shadows over her as he stood in front of the flickering light of the flat screen. "I expect lunch to be packed away and placed on the first shelf of the fridge and a thermos of hot coffee on the counter before I come downstairs." The way he spoke to her, it wasn't an option. If she chose to disobey, as he put it, there would be a price to pay. There was always a price to pay, sometimes even when she followed his instructions with exceeding effort.
She stayed slumped against the backing of the sofa, chin tilted up just to enable her to view his facial structure. "You have my word, Sam."
His critical eyes glazed over her form in disgust. "No woman of mine will slouch like a piece of shit. Have you no pride?" His voice was void of all emotion except for one, the one that had her scrambling to sit with her shoulders rolled back and spine straight as if she were a soldier in his one-person army. "We'll work on it," He irritatingly grumbled, a sound too familiar to Elena's ears.
He made his leave, the sounds of his heavy footsteps on the staircase echoing through the old bones of the house, leaving the young woman alone in the dimly lit living room. Once positive he was nestled into their shared bed, her shoulders once again drooped as the back of her head came to rest against the couch. She stared blankly up at the ceiling, blinking once or twice to keep what she had come to know as senseless tears away from her. She had been reminded nearly every day how annoyingly emotional she was, making it now a habit to fight off the notion for as long as possible. Preferably, giving up the fight once she was completely alone.
Is this how things are simply meant to be? She pondered tiredly in the cracked corners of her mind.
Elena's relationship with Samson had started two years prior.
It had been shortly after the passing of her last remaining parent; her ever-loving mother who had stepped over life's threshold after a too-late diagnosis of stage four leukemia. It was a horribly painful sight for the, then, sixteen-year-old girl to witness. Nights spent catering to the dying woman, moving her from bed to couch to the bathroom just to repeat it all over again throughout the day, had been tiring in more than one meaning of the word. Elena had watched over the older woman through the nosebleeds, the enormous amount of weight loss, aches and pains, and endless fatigue all on her own; Up until the day of her death. In reality, it had been relatively quick, but to her, she swore it wasn't anything short of a slow, agonizing death. Her aunt hadn't even given enough thought to show up until her sister's will was in effect, giving her a small lump sum of money in exchange for watching over Elena until she was of legal age to care for herself.
Under her aunt Martha's unwatchful eye, she had stumbled across Samson Lee Miller.
He had appeared to be exactly what she needed to help her navigate the steep, treacherous mountain that was otherwise known as grieving. He had stepped up in a way that, quite frankly, none of their fellow classmates at Willow City High School ever expected him to. He was the football team's rising star, the quarterback that stood naturally tall and confident. He was no stranger to girls and seemed to have his manipulation tactics down pat. Selfish, indifferent, and complacent were all words you could describe him as. He was your stereotypical jock character, in raw honesty.
With Elena, however, he had pulled out all the stops. Before they were ever even an official item, he was sending her roses and daisies with accents of baby's breath, a handwritten note always attached to the clear plastic floral picks filled with sweet nothings. He would show up on her doorstep at the very first signs of a storm, insistent on holding her with every electrifying jolt of thunder that shook the walls of her childhood home. After school, he would take her on rides in his old Chevrolet pickup truck just to get her mind off of things for a while. He was, in her mind's eye, incredible. A prayer answered that she didn't even need to so much as utter.
She thought on these things as she sat on the couch, one bought and refurbished by her parents, curled up into her fiancé's side as the game he so loved came to an end. His arm was loosely thrown around her shoulders, an empty white plate on the wooden coffee table along with five drained beer bottles. In a sudden motion, he was pulling her closer to him as if he needed to make it perfectly clear that she was his and no one else's, even though not a single soul was within a few miles of them. He pulled her head to his chest with a less than gentle hand, his arm around her shoulders snuggly holding her to him. He dipped his head lower, to rest his chin on the top of the crown of her head. She could smell the alcohol on him before he even spoke, the sound of his voice rumbling and echoing in her eardrum as she leaned against him.
"You know you'll always have me. Right, Elena?" He spoke, posing less of a question and more of a statement.
"Yes," She murmured within a tinge of despondency.
"And I'm all you have. You're fully dependent on me and what I provide for you." His way of reminding her that she had no family members left to care for her, no friends to call upon in her worst of nights. It was simply just Samson, always there and always watching. "I'm all you'll ever need."
She swallowed harshly, managing to nod even with his pressed hand to the side of her face. "Yes, baby," She agreed, a quiet and hollow sound from the depths of her chest.
He hummed in response, smiling to himself, pleased with the answers she fed to him; The ones he had made sure that she knew he expected from her. It was only then that his tight grasp on her had eased, running a nearly loving hand down the length of her blonde hair that ended in wispy waves at the small of her back. Her eyes fluttered closed, withdrawing and releasing a breath of relief as she relished in the morsel of comfort he offered up to her. She knew to enjoy these moments as they were fast and fleeting. So she simply lay there, most of her one-hundred and nine pounds pressed into him, the glow from the television across from them the only light source as it flickered with the ending scores from the football game. This was what she had come to believe was peace.
Just as quickly as the moment had begun, it was ended by the actions of the man. All at once, he pulled from her and stood, turning his head to watch her nearly topple over with the sudden motion. He lazily grinned before he stretched his arms well above his head and leaned back, a few cracks and pops could be heard from his spine. "Alright, time for you to clean up while I hop into bed. I got a big day tomorrow, helping my uncle on his farm." He turned to face her, an expectant expression falling over his features. He easily towered over her, even more so in her seated position, casting shadows over her as he stood in front of the flickering light of the flat screen. "I expect lunch to be packed away and placed on the first shelf of the fridge and a thermos of hot coffee on the counter before I come downstairs." The way he spoke to her, it wasn't an option. If she chose to disobey, as he put it, there would be a price to pay. There was always a price to pay, sometimes even when she followed his instructions with exceeding effort.
She stayed slumped against the backing of the sofa, chin tilted up just to enable her to view his facial structure. "You have my word, Sam."
His critical eyes glazed over her form in disgust. "No woman of mine will slouch like a piece of shit. Have you no pride?" His voice was void of all emotion except for one, the one that had her scrambling to sit with her shoulders rolled back and spine straight as if she were a soldier in his one-person army. "We'll work on it," He irritatingly grumbled, a sound too familiar to Elena's ears.
He made his leave, the sounds of his heavy footsteps on the staircase echoing through the old bones of the house, leaving the young woman alone in the dimly lit living room. Once positive he was nestled into their shared bed, her shoulders once again drooped as the back of her head came to rest against the couch. She stared blankly up at the ceiling, blinking once or twice to keep what she had come to know as senseless tears away from her. She had been reminded nearly every day how annoyingly emotional she was, making it now a habit to fight off the notion for as long as possible. Preferably, giving up the fight once she was completely alone.
Is this how things are simply meant to be? She pondered tiredly in the cracked corners of her mind.
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