Page 2 of Damnation
“Come off it, Sam, and have a drink,” I say as I relax into my stool and allow my head to lull.
“None for me when I have a sermon tomorrow. I expect you all there, presentable for God and the village.”
“All hail God!” Edward shouts before dissolving into a fit of laughter.
Samuel gives my moronic brother a disappointed frown before shaking his head. I gesture for Nathaniel, slipping him more than enough to cover our table’s dues before standing to my feet. Preston does the same as Edward tries and fails to do so. Samuel helps me lift him to his feet, one arm over either of our shoulders as we begin walking outside of Ingersoll’s.
We don’t make it far before my brother is stumbling to the bushes, emptying his gut of all its contents.
“Easy there, Edward,” Samuel says, clapping his back as he continues to retch.
My head shakes at the drunk before my eyes pause. I attempt to look away, but it’s becoming increasingly harder each time I see her.
Sarah.
Sarah Good is the wife of William Good, a lazy laborer at best. The man spends more time unemployed than at work, leaving his wife to provide for their family and daughter the only way she can; to beg. The majority of the townsfolk look down upon the Goods, and for good reason. They have nothing to offer or contribute to the village. They are burdens to our society, and yet I’ve never been able to look away from her.
I’m certain she has no clue the effect she has on me. She no doubt would have exploited it by now if she did, and I’d have willingly allowed it. She has a hold on me unlike anything I’ve ever experienced.
“Have you laid your eyes upon something valuable, brother?” Edward slurs.
His words cause me to jolt as I abruptly look away from the beggar woman I have no business allowing to occupy my mind.
“No, just averting my eyes from the horror that is my little brother.”
He feigns a spear to the heart as he smirks, standing a little taller since his upheaval.
“How you wound me, Thomas.”
Shaking my head, I turn to Parris.
“I’ve got him from here. Until tomorrow,” I say.
“God be with you,” Samuel says.
“And you both as well,” I say to Samuel and Preston before assisting my brother on the walk back to our homes.
Not before stealing one more glance at Sarah, though.
Chapter Two
Sarah
My body aches as I rise for the day. Dorothy stirs in my arms as we sit up. Our bed wasn’t safe last night, not after William consumed his first drink. He only delivered a few hits to my face before I took Dorothy into my arms and locked us in the broom closet. Countless hours passed by with William beating on the door before the pounding stopped and we were able to take rest. Unfortunately, our dirt floors hardly bear a comfortable sanctuary, and my body screams in punishment.
“Mama? Is it safe?”
I fight back tears, not allowing a single one to drop as I smile at my sweet girl. She’s only five years of age. It isn’t fair. This life she was born into isn’t fair.
“Yes, my love. God has gifted us another day together, let us take thanks and joy in it.”
She smiles at me sleepily, her deep brown hair and green eyes a reflection of my own. Together, we stand as I open the door first, carefully peering out before allowing it to fully open. A few steps and I see William passed out on our bed, snoring heavily. I take relief in moments like these. We ought to be getting ready for church at this time of the day, but with William’s state, I’m too afraid to wake him and much too afraidof what will come if Dorothy and I show alone. People will whisper, talk, and William will blame me for all of the sort.
So, I decide to grab the last crust of bread we have, handing it to Dorothy alongside some water I fetched last night before we head into town. I look up in the sky and see that it would not have mattered if I had woken William. Church is well on its way to being over, and soon the town will be streaming with townsfolk, hopefully one more generous than the last.
I hate who I have become. A beggar woman. It’s humiliating, disgraceful, but with William’s temper and inconsistent work, we’re barely surviving as is. We have no other hope. My stomach groans in agony as I try to recount the last day I had a meal. Must be going on three days as of this morning. Every scrap I can manage, I pass to Dorothy, but I feel the weight of my decisions in the sway of my steps.
“Are you okay, Mama?” she asks, her little hand delicately tucked into mine as our feet move down the dirt road.
