Work Text:
- June 1892 -
Ephraim’s footfall grew louder as he slowly walked towards the dining table.
Sarah crouched underneath it, slowly drawing her legs towards her chest. Her breath caught in her throat as he suddenly stopped a few feet away from the table. She could see his shoes on the wood floor, his toes pointed in her direction.
He knows I’m here , she thought.
She closed her eyes and said a quick prayer that he would not find her, but it was too late. Suddenly her brother lifted up the tablecloth and grabbed her all in one swift motion, pulling her out from underneath the table.
“You can’t hide from us, Sarah! We weren’t born yesterday!”
Sarah barely had time to let out a scream before she was dragged from underneath the table. Not that it would have done any good anyways, seeing as no one in the house would ever be likely to help her in any way.
She managed a short squeal as she desperately grasped for something, anything to hold on to. Sarah grasped the table leg and held on, trying to kick and squirm out of Ephraim’s grasp. Her brother may have only been three years older than her, but he was much taller and stronger than she was. She did, however, manage to get one good kick in, knocking Ephraim back before she managed to kick him once more, this time nearly in the face.
“Harold-,” Ephraim exclaimed. “Help!”
As Harold and Ephraim both attempted to grab Sarah, she continued her fight. Finally Ephraim managed to grab her around the waist as Harold slipped her fingers off of the table leg.
“Come on! You’re going back where you belong!” Ephraim cried.
“No!”
Sarah broke free once more and ran frantically, trying to find a way out. As she rounded a corner she was faced with a choice: either go up the staircase to her left or try her chances with the door at the right. Flying up the stairs, she had long abandoned her original plan of secrecy and quiet. No, now was the time for speed, not delicacy. Her footsteps were heavy now, and there would be no doubt as to where in the house she was. Finding no open windows, she ran down the stairs once again, this time running straight into her father. He roughly grabbed her by the arm and practically dragged her to the others. She tried to fight but it was no use. He had such a strong grip on her arm that there would be no escaping his grasp.
Deodat practically threw Sarah at Ephraim. “Why don’t you keep a hold of her this time?!” he said sneeringly.
Sarah wanted to struggle again but her strength was failing her now. Being in the cellar so often meant that she had little chance for exercise, and even less of a chance to maintain any sort of strength or stamina. Sensing this, Ephraim chuckled.
“Given up already, have we?”
He smiled as he asked this. He always smiled when he mocked her.
Ephraim’s fingernails dug into Sarah’s skin as he led her to the cellar door. “Now, you’re going to go where you belong!” he said triumphantly.
As Harold opened the sliding cupboard door and unlocked the cellar door Sarah stood stiffly. Her arms had begun to ache now from Ephraim’s strong grip. He practically pushed her along into the cellar, almost causing her to collapse.
“Careful with her,” Harold cautioned. “Mother would have a fit if we had to call a doctor for Sarah.”
A doctor, thought Sarah. When did they ever begin to think to call a doctor?
They never seemed to think to call a doctor, especially not after the family had decided that she should become both their proverbial and literal punching bag.
Perhaps it’s because Ephraim is going to college. They must keep up appearances.
Her brother was going to attend college to become a doctor. That much she had heard through the floorboards late at night. Her family was unaware that she could hear them speaking on very quiet nights, but she could.
As Harold pulled open the iron door that led to her door, Ephraim tightened his grip even further. His fingers sunk even deeper into her skin, and she could have sworn that it drew blood. Once they reached her door, it was quickly opened and Sarah thrown inside.
This time, however, her brothers didn’t leave. They stood there in the doorway as Sarah huddled on the cold floor.
“What do you think, Harold? Does she deserve the light today?” Ephraim asked tauntingly.
“I don’t know. Perhaps not.”
Suddenly the light went out, and Sarah was left in the pitch black. Even the corridor leading to her room was pitch black, and she couldn’t tell if her brothers still stood in the doorway.
Suddenly she felt a sharp pain in her side. It was a rough kick, probably from Ephraim.
She whimpered and instinctively grasped her side, an action she came to almost immediately regret. Another kick came, this time falling onto her hand instead.
Sarah winced and grimaced. Even though he couldn’t see her face, Ephraim knew that she was in pain. He chuckled at the thought of it.
“Perhaps we should have brought father’s belt,” Harold suggested.
Sarah closed her eyes and willed her mind to another place. She thought of the stories she had read when she was a little girl. Stories where good always conquered evil, and where things weren’t all mixed up in the way they were in the Bellows household.
Harold gave her another kick now, and sharply pulled her hair. “You ought to stop talking about the mill if you know what’s good for you,” he threatened.
Another pull came from the other side of her head, tugging her head to the left. “And if you ever tell anyone about the mercury-” began Ephraim.
Harold leaned down to his sister’s height.
“-you’re dead.”
Ephraim released her hair, roughly shoving her as he did so.
“Come on, let’s go”
Ephraim and Harold quickly shuffled out of the cellar room. Sarah heard the familiar lock click as she was once again left in the dark, damp room.
She lay on the floor, defeated once again.
Someday I’ll be free, she thought. Someday they won’t hurt anyone anymore.
She swore this to herself.
And in the end, they didn’t.