The Fall of the Woman
But not at the beginning...
She truly lived the perfect life for a time. She was surrounded by people who treated her well and with love. Each day was a joyous day with her adoring husband always covering her with compliments, adoration and gifts.
Yet slowly and silently the situation started to worsen.
Her husband's temper got worse with each passing day, he added new demands constantly, people looked at her with different eyes, empty eyes… Many new rules and limitations were created and aggravated.
She was forbidden to go out at night, being locked in her room. She was not to see her family. She was not to speak to anyone outside her new family inside the estate. She was not to ask questions, for she was too dumb to understand according to her husband.
Soon she was more of a maid than a wife. Her whole life revolved around serving her beloved merchant. She did all he asked for and her fear of him grew… something that came and worsened without her realizing it.
And then it started.. he started punishing her as you with a prisoner. Any excuse was enough for a beating and humiliation. And everyone there knew and did nothing, not even losing a second of their life looking at her.
And it was easy to see that this once beautiful well kept girl was now dirty and bruised, her once life and happy eyes, now dark and empty, her bright smile now non existent.
This continued for months culminating with Patricia getting locked in a small jail type of the room in a dark side of the estate far from the main buildings.
She stayed in that minuscule place, only seeing the sunlight through the cracks in the wooden heavy door or the holes in the roofing.
Soon she understood why.. she was a servant, and now truly saw what she served. Her master… her husband... was part of a cult, a cult of witches that did dark rituals during the night away from curious eyes.
With time she saw it all from the summoning of unholy beings to sacrifices to some unholy dark greater being…
She spent her days crying in her jail room, how could Decus let this be, how could He let it happen to one as faithful as her, one who prayed every day, one who followed the eight… one who was a good soul…
At the beginning she tried everything to run away, to the point of desperately giving a note to a merchant that was delivering goods for him to deliver to the church, a note begging for help.
Yet… nothing.. days, months, years passed and with each attempt of escape the punishments got worse.
With time her faith dwindled.. she no longer believed that god existed, how could He.. and she became a shell of a woman… an empty husk of the shining happy person she once was.. she refused to kill herself yet she no longer lived.. she was just passing time until her body shut down.
One day in a silent moonless night where you could not even hear the crickets all hel broke loose.
A bright flash cuts through the night lighting her room and before she could even look at it a deafening loud explosion sound throws her off balance, followed by many more accompanied by screams of pain and agony.
Patricia hid in a corner curled up staring at the door hoping whatever it was it would not come for her, she already suffered enough… and whatever it was it could not be good.
For hours she could hear the heavy fighting happening outside in a mix of ordinance explosions, thunder falling from the sky, musket fire and metal hitting flesh in an horrendous sound… then.. it all went silent… she could not hear anything but footsteps outside, until..
*BAM!*
The door flies open as she sees the retracting foot of the one who kicked it open.. terror took over her, her heart beating at an unnatural speed… her time has come she was sure for whoever it was it would easily overpower her weak pathetic scrawny self.
And then he entered.. A tall man with a very broad build and weapon in hand, yet what was most noticeable about him was his attire, a long black coat covering his armor and a tall wide brim hat with a shiny wolfs head sigil in the middle that reflected the light from what she presumed were fires outside. He was death impersonated, she thought.. she could not see his eyes or facial features.
She stares at him waiting for her demise, her face filled with tears as he takes a step forward placing his hand inside his coat.
Patricia lowers her head facing the floor waiting for the floor waiting for the oh so bittersweet end when the mean spoke.
Nothing happens and she looks up at him noticing that he took the very same note she sent to the church that many months back. She was shocked for a moment.. how could it be… she forsaken her God she thought the most horrible things about Him and yet… he guided this man here… how…
As reality sets in she uses the little strength she has to move holding the mans leg… her saviours leg… completely breaking down in a deep sob as he places a comforting hand on her head speaking in a rough yet calming tone;
“Do not fear child, the Vigil is here”