V De Winters- The Market

They couldn’t bear being in the house another moment. Their fingers dug into their palms, so hard that it left fingernail imprints, deep and dark, when they forced themselves to unfurl them. Their spouse was in their own room, angrily needling a doctor about… Their aggressively lowered libido. They hated it. Their spouse had few pleasures and being deprived of just one had lit a fire under them. 

But it wasn’t just them. The maids couldn’t stop staring at V, whispering. They had half the mind to dismiss half the staff and keep the house quiet, they wanted their quiet! Not the ongoing noise, the refurbishments, the unpacking of the original De Winter’s storage and boxes, and V’s own meager belongings tucked elsewhere. Everyone who came by, the grocer, the carpenter’s, everyone, whispered about them, their marriage, in low tones, either gleeful or scandalised. They couldn’t bear to sit there anymore, doing nothing but looking pretty, with a bandage over half their face, just so they wouldn’t bleed everywhere. 

The accident had happened weeks ago, but their sliced flesh refused to properly mend, not for a long time. It was ugly. It made V ugly. Inflamed skin, that made their eyes seem to go yellow in the corners. For the first time their eyes, their pretty pretty eyes, that their mother always crooned that they got from their blue blooded father (a lie, V can tell when she was lying), seemed garish, and putrid. They were constantly running a low grade fever, the doctor making them swallow handfuls of pills each morning and afternoon, not daring to draw any blood in case it led to another seeping wound. 

No, V was a doll that should be kept out of reach, sweet and pretty, not to be broken unless you wanted the porcelain to yellow and their hair to split and fall off. Even one tumble ended with… This. 

V reached up to gingerly touch the bandage, already mostly bled through, and winced. They hadn’t even touched the wound, bound to create a disgusting scar, just the skin around it and it had throbbed painfully. They couldn’t decide which was worse, the noise around their new grand house or skin on their face feeling far too tight. 

They had enough. 

Not making too much noise, they clumsily wrapped another bandage over the spoiled one, before getting their coat and gloves. They just… Just wished to go outside for a while. V had always made easy friends before, with the limited amount of peers in their circle. Or maybe it was because they were basically family at that point. Who knows. 

When they stepped out, a lurch of nostalgia flipped their stomach. Made their wound sting too. Their entire face felt too hot. They hadn’t been back here in… Years. Maybe… A decade? They struggled with the exact amount of time split between here, the town they were born, and in Kaer Llundain. Only dregs of their childhood remained, the place their mother had lived in for years (They refuse to go near), the chestnut tree outside of a line of demolished homes, now being rebuilt. The mistletoe tree, where they had found out about their illness. Just a scratch as they climbed with their friends and they were in bed for weeks on end, the next door neighbour watching over them as their mother worked. It was a miserable time, and they couldn’t afford a physician or a Witch to come from out of town, and the hospital refused to take them.

V began to wander, pressing the bandage down more securely. They could hear the sounds of crowds just a few streets over and walked with purpose. For the first time, they were left alone. They were alone and for the first time since they were a child pinching pennies, they had money with them. 

Just something small. For themself. Something nice. 

They continued to walk, finding themself a bit breathless. Could be that their nose was stinging from their injury, but also they don’t think they had ever walked so far in just roughly twenty minutes. Yes, they were fit, but they had done exercises inside for about a quarter of their life now, nothing like this. 

But before long they were finally there- The markets. Right in the middle of town. Their mother used to take them here every Sunday, when it had been a good week for her. Up until V’s first experience with their sickness, then it was only when she went first, and saw it wasn’t too crowded. Even now, V took great pains avoiding other people, quietly wishing they had brought their cane that they had shut away. They wouldn’t even walk on the old cobbles, preferring the newer granite setts that looked like they were freshly laid in.

They finally stopped at one stall, selling blankets and shawls. Their fingers itched, remembering when they were forced to stop working for… About 3 months. They tried out knitting at that time and made a small, wobbly, dusty-grey square of wool. It looked terrible, but V was proud of it. Did the job too.

They smiled and slowly dragged their fingers along the fabrics. They were lost in a small fantasy, a thick blanket, soft, for when the house was at the coldest, so much so they only awoke when they heard a word that made their blood grow cold. 

“- That whore.” 

Their sharp intake of breath of cold hair hurt their throat. They risked a glance to their right, and were met with two pairs of eyes looking right at them. 

Suddenly the crisp air became so much colder. People looking, hard, cold, stares. They knew. The blanket underneath V’s palm moved back sharply. The seller pulled it out of their reach and refolded it, before giving V a look. 

“Buy it first, then you can touch.” She said pointedly. 

V felt their ears turn red. 

“Poor De Winters.” Came another whisper. “No doubt duped into it. Someone should be looking after them.” 

V struggled to breath. Their lips were dry but they didn’t want to stick their tongue out and wet them. Something hot rose behind their eyes, but they didn’t want to cry. No, they knew what tears would lead to. They weren’t some debutante, they weren’t an innocent, they weren’t a sheltered noble. V took a deep breath and put on a smile, showing their crooked canines, your tiger teeth, their mother would say. 

“I’d love to buy all of these. Poor, darling J struggles with the cold weather.” They drew their expensive coat further around themself. 

The seller gaped at them, nearly dropping the blanket that now bore V’s disgusting touch, like it was a black mark. The other two ladies tittered nervously and glanced at each other. 

“I… Yes, yes!” The seller immediately put out the fabric, sliding it right back under V’s touch. Where it belonged. 

“I’ll pay extra if you could deliver these within two hours.” Their fingers greedily dragged over the blanket. Soft. 

No more words needed. She started putting the blankets away in baskets, breath coming fast and hard in her excitement. V watched her, smiling to themself, and dug into their purse, tucking a few crinkled notes into the basket, nourished by the shaky gasp the woman made. They took the blanket and folded it over their arm, like it was an oversized hand warmer. 

“Have a lovely day.” They finally turned to the two bitches, and showed their tiger teeth again. 

They didn’t wander through the whole market. They couldn’t bear it. But with each step back home, blanket heavy against their forearm, they triumphantly aimed their foul thoughts at the crowd they left behind. 

Fuck you. Fuck you. Fuck all of you.