Sorry? It’s Too Late.

It was too late to apologize, she’d told them herself, but they hadn’t listened.

Hadn’t wanted to listen.

“This can be worked through, I’m sure.”

“You’re too young to make this kind of decision alone.”

“If you’d just try a little harder, I’m certain your husband would pay more attention to you.”

“It seems like he’s not interested, but maybe you’re just playing hard to get and taking it too far.”

“It can’t be as bad as you think, no one can be that heartless.”

She was silent throughout it all, but the last comment reminded her of the movie she’d watched with her children last week.

“You could have let me fall.”

“What’s the big deal? Nobody’s that heartless!”

What these people didn’t understand, didn’t want to understand was that yes, people could be and, more importantly were that heartless.

After all, who would try and blame the abused and convince them that their pain was their fault all while pretending that they were helping them?

Perhaps the ‘social workers’ and ‘counselors’ that she was sent to for help were that heartless. Even more heartless then her uncaring husband.


Today’s Daily Post prompt (https://dailypost.wordpress.com/dp_prompt/no-apologies/) asked for my guilty pleasure, one that I’m not sorry for. I thought of all the usual things: chocolate, flowers, promises I don’t intend to keep… (I love that movie for so many reasons.) But ultimately I came upon stories, whether they are stories that I have written or ones that I have read, stories would be my guilty pleasure that I’m not sorry for. All kinds of stories, it doesn’t usually matter (except for anything too graphic physically, I can’t handle those and don’t want to learn to do so) but I love them all.

I know when I write, I tend towards the more serious very often, that’s mostly because though I’ve been told I can be funny that’s usually on accident and has a hard time translating into my writing at all. People say that you write what you know, even if you only know of it in some small part and I’ve found that to be mostly true. You can write about something you don’t know, or at least something that you aren’t as familiar with. That’s where research comes in, if this isn’t true then all those essays I had to do in middle and high school about things I didn’t know anything about before starting on it were completely useless and should not have been assigned in the first place.

I Will Find You

If he had any kind of psychic power then he would have been able to tell that she was planning something that might actually work. As it was, he’d known that she wanted freedom. Anyone with the ability to want anything would know that she did.

(No one likes being held prisoner, not even someone who is in a gilded cage. His wife was held in a cage as far from gilded as you could get. She had no comforts, nothing and no one to really make any of this seem less than it was: enslavement as a living resource for whatever he wanted at the moment.)

He had worked very hard at making sure she would be unable to find the resources needed to escape. It was part of the reason that she didn’t often get to see anyone other than him. He didn’t want her to find sympathy amongst the servants and have someone to help her. He wasn’t stupid, he knew that most people, people who actually cared about the suffering of people they didn’t know, exist and that they would probably try to help her if they knew. He was very careful about what others knew and didn’t know about his wife and her situation. He had gotten where he was because he had known where and how to gather and disseminate information.

The point of the matter was, he hadn’t been aware that his wife, his darling and oh so dear wife had been able to escape. And in such a matter that he was finding it difficult to track her. Whatever she had done to send children away (and it had taken him an embarrassingly long time to figure out that was happening when he’d just thought that her boy had been trying to do a false pregnancy. Human women had this happen to them all the time) she had been able to use to escape for herself. He had been able to get a read on some of the children, but not a location, just that they did exist and were alive somewhere.

“I will find you, I will find you and as many of those pathetic little rats that you’ve hidden from me, my darling wife.” he snarled to himself as he paced the library like a caged animal, books open and strewn about him.

“You cannot run from me forever.”

Just because he could not predict the future did not mean that the power he’d gained was useless in hunting down what belonged to him. He would never stop looking.


Written for today’s Daily Prompt: https://dailypost.wordpress.com/2014/01/21/daily-prompt-future-3/