“People do, don’t they? Mix up love and possession. I don’t think that should be possible. I mean, they’re opposites, really. Love and ownership.” Dani — Bly Manor
Her chest heaved and spasmed as she gulped in large breaths, struggling to draw in what she needed. Her body was confused, the air she needed felt thick and wrong, and she knew in that moment what it was like to drown. Except instead of water seizing her lungs, her mind, it was pain, heartbreak, and fear.
She took a moment to steady herself, curled up on the cold hardwood floor, to remember that air was not the enemy, but a needed friend. She had to calm down, she had to steady herself. While this panic felt like death, like the world was caving in around her, the truth was, it wasn’t. The ground beneath her was solid, as were the wooden walls of the house she was in. There was no storm swirling around outside, just warm sunshine and a calm breeze. The turmoil, the tempest she felt, all came from within. Which meant she could have some control over it, or at the very least, she could figure out how to move around the piercing fragments of her heart. Her decision was made. She couldn’t afford to lay and sit in the sorrow. There would be time for that later.
Her movements were slow as she carefully shifted her weight and pushed up so she was on her hands and knees. She knew better than to ask herself how she got there, to question her original wish. She knew what she had felt then to be her truth, although looking back, it was hard to believe, given what she knew now. She pulled her tear-sodden, grief-stricken body up until she was standing. She only had a few hours to find it, before he got home. If she didn’t do this now, she’d get sucked back in, pulled down until she truly was drowning, his arms wrapped tightly around her, his body a weight she couldn’t rid herself of.
Glancing around the barren space around her, she considered the possibility of it being in the main room. No, she thought as she looked to her right. No, he never goes into the kitchen unless he has to. He would never hide it there. Turning to the left, she surveyed the living room, her gut twisting with anxiety. When she first moved in here, into his house, his domain, she had wanted to turn it into a cozy nest, add charm and life to the place. She had even brought with her a bounty from the sea, a marvelous collection of shells and driftwood, but he had turned his nose up at all of it. Scoffing, he had insisted, “We have plenty of nice things up here, from the land, things that don’t smell so foul.”
His comment had hurt, after all, the sea was where she was from, but she shrugged it off, not wanting to argue. Instead, she tried to do what he told her to. She stashed her treasures away and tried to find things in the shops and markets, but nothing ever caught her eyes or called to her like the things from the water did. Eventually, she settled on a blue sitting chair which she placed by the fire. She liked it well enough, the color of it reminded her of the depths of her home, and it was hers, only hers which brought her comfort on stormy nights.
The decision, the one to leave, was difficult. Once, she had loved this life, waking up happy, and enjoying the mundane nature of every moment. She wanted to believe, for at least some of the last six years, the thoughts of departing hadn’t been there at all, but that was a lie. They had always lurked, deep in her mind, waiting for her to be vulnerable and let them in. Sometimes they would flutter across her mind at night, pacing softly around in her dreams. But she was stubborn, she refused to recognize them, to acknowledge any discomfort at first. She attempted to push them away, to call them something different, to contort their original meaning.
This was just a natural change, she would think. They were getting older and, as people tended to, changing. They had to re-learn each other. This is what happened to all couples, this is what it meant to be in love, to bicker more, to cry more, to fight more. Right?
Jude had been young, barely out of adolescence, when she first journeyed to town alone. She could still recall her mother’s warm gentle hands fixing her hair that day. “Mama,” Jude smiled up at her, trying to smooth the tight, nervous frown on her mother’s face. “It’ll be fine!”
Her mother had sighed and curtly nodded. “I know. I just, it happened so fast, you, growing up like this. I remember my first trip and how Grandma fussed over me.”
Jude couldn’t help but wonder now, years later, if her mother had known, felt something in her bones about what her daughter was walking into.
To venture into town alone signified she was grown, a true adult now in charge of her own life. The journey was customary to her culture, to her people, and she had been ready. She could finally start her life, write her own story instead of being a secondary character in her mother’s. Jude thought she knew it all then, knew what she needed to, so she turned from her mother and made her way up to the town on the hill to start chapter one.
Jude dug through his wardrobe as she recalled, with painful clarity and heartbreak, the moment they met. 6 years ago, she thought as she rifled through his shirts. Six years seems like such a short amount of time, barely a blink in my life. And yet, yet, it feels like an eternity.
He had been working his father’s stand in town, selling fish and chum. Jude had no need of such wares and was busy speaking to someone at another stall when he caught her eye. He had been staring at her openly until she finally looked his way, then he flushed and started straightening some of the fish in front of him. Intrigued by his handsome face, she went over and feigned interest in the catch of the day.
Jude grabbed fistfuls of his things from the wardrobe and tossed them behind her. He would never leave it out in the open, it would be buried deep somewhere in his house. She needn’t look carefully through it, it wasn’t as if she were just curious, nosing through his stuff in secret. Her plan was to take it and run. He could deal with the mess on his own.
When the cabinet stood empty, she frantically ran her hands along the inside, searching for a lip or gap where there might be a hidden compartment. Her stomach churned and her vision filled with bright spots when all she could find were splinters. She stumbled back, gulping in large breaths to calm herself as she nearly tripped over the crumpled mess on the floor. No! I can feel this all later, right now, I have to find it.
She had fallen fast and hard for his pretty face and prettier words, his promises of a good life, of love, of romance. In the early days, he brought her fresh flowers, little trinkets, and handwritten notes each time they met up. He always seemed to have something tucked away in his pocket just for her. She thought, well now, here is a good man. See how everyone adores him? I got myself a good one.
Before long she had eagerly followed him into dark corners, into bed, and finally, swiftly down the aisle. Jude had trusted him with what she held most dear, gave it to him and he respected it for a time. But in the months following their vow of commitment, things changed and his true self was revealed.
She wasn’t sure when it all started to happen. Jude had one hazy memory of a day late into the winter season, long after he kept notes of love in his pockets, when he had made an off-handed comment about how there was no use for romance now that they were married. Was that the moment?
Or was it when he started looking at their spare bedroom, sighing unhappily, and then staring at her and her empty belly? Was it when he spoke all the time of how the other sailors had children? Or was it when he started spending all his time over at his brother’s house, holding his newborn nephew, then coming home and boasting about the child and his siblings? How happy the parents were? “Oh, I could have met you there,” she would say softly, “Seen your brother, his wife, and the new babe.” But he would just scoff and shake his head. “Nah. It’d be too noisy for you.”
Certainly, she suspected something was wrong, after their first anniversary, when he banned her from going to see her kin. She had regularly visited her childhood home the past year, but now he was declaring he was her family and she didn’t need them anymore. How many hours had she spent crying on the cliffside, looking out to the sea, to where her home was?
Jude cursed as she yanked out the last drawer in his desk. Why hadn’t she sought it out then when he did that? Why did she think it was okay?
She knew. Even though she felt, deep in her gut, something was wrong, she still clung to the idea of who she thought he could be. The kind man she had fallen for, he had to be in there, behind the stressed sailor that was tired from working long hours. Who else could he take out his frustrations on if not her? Jude could forget his infractions, could bury them deep in her mind, in those moments when he showed himself to be kind again. But that was gone, that hope, that dream. She’d seen him now, knew who he really was and there was no turning back, no staying.
A mirror first showed her his true nature. When Jude saw him, that day in the market, he was handsome, beautiful even, with calm eyes and a lazy smile. His face she loved, having gazed upon it for hours and memorized all the angles and dips with her hands. She thought she knew his face as well as her own. But then that morning happened. The morning after he had gotten up in the night to demand that she wasn’t allowed to talk to the butcher alone anymore, that is when it all started to change. He groggily shuffled up behind her as she fixed her hair in the mirror and Jude had to stifle a gasp when she saw his reflection. His features were at war with each other, fighting for dominance. His sharp nose, high cheekbones, and soft curve to the jawline appeared mashed together, aligned wrong as if two people had been pushed together and stitched down the middle. She turned, her heart praying she was mistaken, but there, in person, in front of her, stood the same visage at the one in the mirror. Run, her mind had said. Find it and run.
Jude went to his chest, which held his childhood memories, the belongings precious to him. She plunged her hands into its depths, pushing aside the toy soldiers, the stuffed animals, and toy blocks, not noticing how red her hands had become, how cut up, how bruised. More than just the faint hope of love kept her here. She had to find what he had taken, what was truly hers. What kept her anchored to him now that the love wasn’t enough.
A scream tore from her as she slumped back from the chest, hands empty. Where was it? Where had he hidden it? Acid scorched her stomach and her throat as she realized what it meant for him to hide it this well. He meant to keep her trapped here with him, within the bounds of this house to be his and his alone.
Tears, fat and heavy, welled up in her eyes and poured down her cheeks. The love she once felt for him congealed and turned sour in her stomach as she sat back on the wooden floor. Had he always meant to trap her this way? Had he seen the light inside of her and, instead of being in awe of the glow, felt threatened? Thought her spirit needed to be tamed? When she gave it to him, did he already know the power he held over her? The trust involved? Or did he hold it in his hands and think, “Ah now she can never leave me?”
In her frustration, Jude let loose a terrifying scream and slammed her palms against the floor. Sorrow and defeat wrapped around her bones and pulled her down until she was slumped over, her forehead against the cool wood. “It has to be here,” she muttered. “He wouldn’t risk carrying it with him, would he?”
She looked around to try and see if there was anything amiss. As her gaze swept around the room, something caught her eye. She tensed and sharply sucked in air. There, beneath their bed, she could see the edge of a plank slightly jutting up.
Jude scrambled over on her hands and knees as fast as she could. She reached under and felt the plank, pressing on the edges to see if it moved. When it did, a lump of hope caught in her throat. She pressed her back against the bedframe and pushed with all her might.
With a large groan and a rough scraping noise, the bed slid just enough for her to get to the secret compartment. She carefully wiggled the plank free with shaky, battered hands and peered into the dark space below. The scent of cold earth hit her as she saw, nestled in a little dug out hole, an old folded-up quilt. Jude lifted out the worn blanket and set it before her.
She stared at the specks of dust and dirt smudges covering the muted reds and blues of the patterns before her. Jude swallowed thickly, her hands clasped tightly over her heart. This had to be where it was, tucked tightly within. All she had to do was unwrap it and go.
Or she could put everything back into place and go back to the way things were. She could bury it once more, move the bed back and he would never know of her breakdown and thoughts of running. She could plaster on a happy smile, bear his children, and live her life here and shove all thoughts of returning home deep down within her to fester or die.
Jude covered her face with her hands and took deep, shuddering breaths. No. she thought. I cannot go back to that. I thought this was my life, but it isn’t. I built it up to be what I wanted, but in the end, it turned out to be nothing more than a fairytale turned tragedy.
Before she could change her mind, she unfolded the quilt and revealed that which she had been without for so long, that which was not his, but hers alone, that which he had cruelly stolen from her. Fresh tears sprung to her eyes and a soft gasp fell from her mouth as she picked up her sealskin and brought it up to her face. The scent of the sea rushed over her as she breathed in deeply, the fur softly caressing her cheeks. A peace she hadn’t known for ages sunk into her bones.
Clutching it to her breast, Jude scrambled to her feet and took one last look around her house, thinking about what to take. As she assessed her material things, the baubles they had collected together, she decided she didn’t need, didn’t want any of them. They would always smell of him, weigh her down, and tie her to a life she was through with. All Jude needed was her sealskin and the possessions she had originally brought with her. “One last thing,” she said to the empty house. Jude took off her wedding band and tossed it away. It rang with the sound of freedom, of breaking chains as it hit the table and rolled off the edge. Laughing for the first time in what felt like ages, she grabbed her box of things from the sea and kissed her blue chair goodbye.
Six years since she first went along with him. Six years since Jude felt light, felt free. She raced outside, her heart pounding with excitement as she made her way down the hillside to the beach below. Inhaling in the salty air, she knew she had made the right choice, even if it had first felt like drowning.
“Jude.”
His voice jolted through her, causing her to jump and spin quickly around. She must have taken longer than she thought. She wanted to be gone long before he got home, yet here he was, standing there, just a few feet from her, pain and heartbreak on his face.
“What are you doing?” His voice was strained and he nervously clutched his cap.
For a brief moment, as she looked upon the sorry visage of her husband, she thought maybe she was wrong again, that maybe she should stay. Then she recalled all the times over their years together she had done that, and how the outcome was the same each time. He would lure her back in with sweet nothings and his grip around her throat would tighten. If she stayed, she would die, perhaps not physically, but her soul would eventually burn out, leaving her a husk for him to control. “I am leaving,” Jude said, holding strong and clutching her pelt to her chest. “I am done. I am done with you. With our marriage. It is over and I am leaving.”
“But Jude, darling, you can’t,” he protested, a flash of anger lighting up his eyes. “You made a vow, you promised to stay here with me as my wife. You cannot go. I don’t allow it.”
She scoffed, taking a step back, closer to the water. “You don’t allow it? Just like you don’t allow me to speak to other men? To go home? To my home, not that cottage you built. My actual home. You’ve kept me from it for far too long.”
“If you leave, you’ll regret it!” he snapped back, any sweetness he was going to use to ply her was gone. The truth of him fully exposed, the facade of gentleness shed. “I did all that in your best interest! You know I am the best thing to ever happen to you. You have a wonderful life here. You have friends, you have the village. What do you have out there? Water? Fish? You were lonely, I saw it. I saw it and I saved you. Come on now, you’re making a mistake. Come with me, come back home.” He held his hand out.
Jude stared at him, her head slightly cocked to the side. She saw him for who he truly was, without the mask of love to rosily tint everything. A mirror was no longer needed to see how twisted his features were, how possessive his heart was. “No.” She shook her head and felt the cool waves lap her feet and ankles as she stepped back again. “I am not coming back. I am done and I mean that. You saved me from nothing and I have more out there than I ever did here. Know that I loved you once, I really did and I wish you the best. I hope you find happiness, just as I will.”
“Jude!”
She smiled at him one last time before she turned, wrapped her sealskin around her, and dove into the cold, brilliant waters. His shrieking demands quickly faded away as Jude swam deeper and deeper into the embrace of the ocean she called home.
Once she was certain she was far enough from land, she poked her head up and took a deep, cleansing breath. She knew many moons would rise and set before the pain would dull, but she knew she would survive it. The feeling of drowning no longer restricted her. She could move around within the waves of heartbreak and sorrow. Jude could now taste freedom upon her tongue and that exhilaration made it worth the pain of leaving. She could be whatever she wanted now, be herself without fear, without worry. No one would ever have such a hold over her again.
