The Grean Household

9: A Son Born In To Apathy

Sarah would take care of him whilst Oliver was at work, keeping an eye on two children while she cleaned the house. Emma was not a problem, it was just the new baby was what made her nervous. Though, contradicting her mother's saying, Alex was just as quiet as Emma, and he was also extremely hungry all the time.

The more she spent her life at home, the more she found herself yearning for the beyond. With Alex latched to her breast, Sarah stared at her computer. She was reading the words, growing more and more anxious. That was before her body jolted with pure happiness.

Months and hours of reworking her resume, rewriting her application to Glendale finally payed off. The words she was staring at were filled with acceptance, welcoming her to the Flamingo Fam. Alex let out a murmur, crying gently from the sudden explosion in Sarah's movement. She shushed him gently, cradling his body. She would be going in for the spring term, and she couldn't wait to get started.

-

When that switch of the trimester came around, Sarah was a new student on campus. Oliver's disapproval followed her everywhere, along with the small things he hung over her head. While she was studying for her bachelors, hoping that she could finally do what she wanted to do for as long as she was alive.

Her classes were going by quickly, and she took pride knowing that her mind still had the same edge that helped her fly through her classes in high school. Being in the environment she always dreamed of was invigorating, Sarah found herself losing track of her wifely duties. Mrs. and Mr. Grean, also filled with disapproval, would watch their daughter and son while Oliver was at work, and Sarah was attending her classes.

Sometimes, Oliver would take off, watching the kids. He'd text Sarah, often asking when she'd be home. She'd never answer, too engrossed in the lectures to remember that she had two children at home.

When she'd come home for dinner, Oliver would sometimes fill her in on what she missed. He'd tell her in a smug manner, watching as she struggled to stay still in her seat, guilt starting to eat her from the inside out. 

You missed his first steps, Sarah. Those memories were stirring in her mind, reminding her how selfish it was to try and get to her dreams. She didn't respond when he said that to her. How could she? There was nothing to say. Sarah couldn't make up an excuse, or if she did, he'd see her as prioritizing anything but her son.

What kind of mother are you? Sarah laid awake at night, bags growing underneath her eyes as she stared up at that dark ceiling. Tears were starting to crawl their way to her eyes. Every night, she began to sob. Every night the anger of this caged beast was growing stronger, the repressed fury being its fuel.

Sarah began to have nightmares. Nightmares where she'd be sitting down in a chair, watching Oliver play with her young children. Then, he'd stop, and stare at her. Sarah couldn't move, and she could only watch as he took Emma by her throat and began pressing his two hands on both sides of her head. She'd thrash and scream as he crushed her skull with his power, killing her daughter right in front of her.

Other nightmares would occur where she'd be thrown out onto the streets, the money she married into disappearing from her account along with her access to her own children. Oliver would hold both the hands of his children and would slam the door in her face, leaving Sarah out to die in the cold.

She'd awake gently, breathing heavily, tears and sweat dripping down her skin. Oftentimes, she'd spend the half of the middle of the night in the bathroom, the other half in her children's room. She'd sit in the chair in the corner, thinking about the classes she'd have to attend to soon, or about the new tests coming up.

For hours, she'd consider alcohol or the option of giving up, but Sarah knew that if she simply stopped now, there was nothing she could do to get back the chance of achieving her dreams. She couldn't stop. Not now.

In that still darkness of the nursery, Sarah sat, quietly contemplating running with her children. She thought about what she could do. Anything at this point seemed to be better than staying here with a man who could care less if she dropped dead the next day. Sarah found herself getting lonely with the lack of touches and looks. But not any touches would do. She wanted love. Love was something Oliver couldn't give her. It was clear in the fact that he had to be drunk in order to even kiss her.

She sat in that stillness for a long time, dry tears on her cheeks, her breathing soft and shaky. Sarah tapped the arm of the chair, clenching her jaw as she felt more tears begin to fall. She wiped her eyes, noticing that she was still contemplating her options. The only thing she wanted was to accomplish her life-long goal and the marriage seemed to be the only thing in the way.

In the silence, Alex began to cry. Sarah's attention snapped up instantly. Quickly, she slid over to the crib and swooped him up. She shushed him gently, bouncing him in her arms. Sarah felt herself swaying with her young son, hearing him begin to quiet himself. He gurgled gently, cooing quietly. Sarah stared off into the darkness, realizing how little her cage was beginning to get.

The only thoughts coursing through her head, daily, were plans to escape. She fantasized of a better life- a better man. Sarah stared off, feeling her mind begin to wander. Zoning out, she kept her baby boy in her arms, muttering to herself gently. It almost seemed to be prayer to a greater being, hoping it would present her with an opportunity of an escape. She would take anything, and she would do anything.