Page 139 of Bound By Crimson
The farther she went, the more the land unraveled. No trimmed bushes. No sculpted beds.
Only tall grass and twisted vines clawing across the earth like veins.
Eventually, she reached it.
The wall.
The towering stone barrier, cracked and worn by centuries, stretched across the back edge of the property.
No glimpse beyond it. No promise of escape.
Just vines choking the stones, moss filling the cracks, time sealing it shut.
Tucked beneath a low-hanging tree, nestled into the wall’s roots, sat the bench—her quiet place, her only escape, even if it offered none.
Lyric sat.
And for the first time all day—she cried.
No swallowing it down.
No forcing composure.
Just raw, broken sobs. Her shoulders shook. Her hands curled in her lap.
Her belly heavy beneath her dress.
She didn’t know how long she stayed like that. Minutes. Hours.
Time didn’t seem to exist here.
Everything—her life, her choices, her future—felt unbearably far away.
She clutched the locket at her chest, her thumb tracing the clasp she didn’t dare open.
“Mom,” she whispered hoarsely. “Please help me. Please tell me how to survive this.”
The wind stirred the ivy above her.
She bent over slightly, cradling her stomach with both hands.
“I want to be strong for you. I want to be enough. But I… I don’t know how much more I can take.”
Silence answered her.
And in that silence her thoughts turned cruel.
Maybe it was her fault. Maybe if she were better—softer, quieter, smaller—this would all be different.
Maybe she was the one ruining everything.
She wiped her face with trembling fingers.
Be better. Try harder. Don’t make waves.
That’s what they wanted. That’s what survival required.
She rose stiffly to her feet, aching from the weight she carried.
