Dear Valentina [The Marvelous Mrs. Maisel]

☆ Prologue: The Awakening

"Who can tell what metals the gods use in
forging the subtle bond 
which we call sympathy, which we might
as well call love."
― The Awakening, Kate Chopin

PROLOGUE.      THE AWAKENING.

☆

( Sep. 24th, 1958 )

     "Crazy CUNT!" screamed Guy, his nose flushed with blood and his equally red hands flailing around, uncovering then covering his face in fanatic indecision. Valerie didn't hear anything, her huge green eyes pure steel and boldness, body half-turned and her shaking right hand still in a fist as if she had the wavering thought to go back in for another hit. Before she could even entertain the visual prospect, an animalistic-type rage crossed the scrawny man's expression and the back of his arm came swinging. It was less his hand, but more the bony bent of his wrist that made the impact so harsh, her body landing on the carpeted floor with a loud thump.

     Vaguely, she felt the back of her head lightly thwack against the floor, but the throbbing sensation muddling her face blocked any acknowledgement. Blinking rapidly, Valerie raised her hand and touched her nostrils, pulling back to see the sticky substance of blood, then proceeded to feel the quick warmth trickle down to her lips. Similarly, there was something painfully akin spreading across her right cheek, but before she could check, Cliff was by her side and grasping her face with both of his abnormally large hands. She winced, her face squished funnily together, before instinctively gripping his upper arms, feeling dizzy all of a sudden. Scrunching his nose in unrestricted disgust, he pulled down his sleeves and began wiping, or more accurately smearing, the blood across her face. "This ― was ― such ― a ― bad ― idea!" He grunted through angry pants of air.

     She coughed, licking her metallic lips, "Not my fault."

     She could still hear Guy yelling in the background, the other editors surrounding him, whirling around with bandages and damp towels. Through the glass wall, she could see the outline of officers dawning black uniforms pushing through the onlooking crowd of innocent party-goers. Valerie twisted around to grab the forgotten blouse, quickly slipping her arms through the sleeves as the cops shoved open the doors. Their eyes darted around, taking in the scene of the half-clothed woman on the floor and the bleeding man in the corner, the chaos of an office party gone terribly wrong. Herb immediately went up to the officers, frantically moving his hands around despite his surprisingly calming tone, "Everything's fine here, gentlemen. I've got some employees who have just been drinking more than they should, and things got a little rough ―"