Girl of Rage by Charles Sheehan-Miles

Author:Charles Sheehan-Miles [Sheehan-Miles, Charles]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Cincinnatus Press
Published: 2014-05-25T04:00:00+00:00

Adelina. February 26, 1984.

Julia had been difficult to get to sleep tonight—restless and irritable. Adelina finally gave up and lay down beside her daughter, lightly tapping her on the leg to soothe her. Julia’s eyes dipped, opening and closing repeatedly as she fought sleep.

Finally, Julia’s breathing evened out, her eyes closed, her cheeks slightly flushed. Adelina sagged against the bed and slowly released her daughter’s hand. She desperately needed an hour to relax, uninterrupted. Now that Julia was down, she’d hopefully get it. It would be uncharacteristic of Richard to seek her out—she suspected he was finding some other source of sexual satisfaction than his captive wife, and nothing could make Adelina happier.

The last thing she wanted was Richard touching her. Unfortunately, she had to talk with him. She approached him as rarely as possible, but sometimes it was unavoidable.

Her mind kept returning to George-Phillip’s words the night before.

“I must see you.”

“I can’t,” she had replied.

“I must,” he had said.

George-Phillip didn’t understand. He must not believe her when she described the danger Richard represented. Or worse, he didn’t care. He didn’t care what risk she bore, what danger she was in.

It seemed likely, until she thought of his kindness, of the concern in his eyes. George-Phillip was not a man looking for an easy sexual liaison, and if he were, he could find much better targets for his lust than Adelina Thompson.

Which left her with one question. What did he want?

She was attracted to him. Intensely so. In their few meetings, it had become clear that her desire was mutual. It was also equally clear that it was impossible. Even if her husband weren’t dangerous, the fact was, she was married. She didn’t love Richard—in fact, she hated him. But she still had to live with herself, and no matter how much she hated Richard Thompson, she’d married him in the church. She was married in the eyes of God. Those were the only eyes that really mattered.

She stood, slowly, taking care to not disturb Julia. As she came to her feet beside the small bed, Julia’s breath paused for just a moment. Adelina waited to see if her daughter would open her eyes—if she would clench her fists or turn red in the face or scream loud enough to draw Richard’s anger. After a moment, Julia settled back into the bed a little deeper, her tiny chest expanding as she breathed in.

Adelina stepped into the quiet hallway. From Julia’s room, she could see down the hallway: two more bedrooms on the right side of the hallway, three on the left. The master bedroom, Richard’s, at the end of the hallway. Thank God this place was huge. Adelina had taken the furthest possible room from her husband.

His bedroom door was cracked several inches. She walked toward the door, feeling a sense of dread. His open door might mean he was careless, which occasionally he was. Or it might mean he was preparing to assault her. He’d only done that a couple of times since he’d returned to the United States, though.

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