gwen (gwenix) wrote,

When I cried for help a few years ago in a mall, the police came and collected him, surveyed my bruises, then let him return to my home. I screamed, tried to run, but my neighbors only watched with sad eyes. Knowing I had nowhere else to go, I returned to him and the house we lived in.

You see, I loved his house. It was a most beautiful house. It had been in my family for generations, and still bore the same remnants of my family's presence in the form of pieces of furniture, old toys, art collected. The house itself was incredible, standing on the most fertile lands producing incredible fruits in the orchard and on the vine. It was my house once.

My family had all perished in an unfortunate accident, leaving me the house and land. It was shortly after this I met him, he was charismatic and powerful, he promised to protect me. I accepted his marriage proposal. I was too naive to understand the contract he had me sign, I trusted him, I did not even read it.

He was a friend of the Mayor back then as well. Often we went to dinner parties among the city's elite, his law practice flourished. He was considered the defender of the impossible, he was proud of his track record in proving innocence. Then one day the Mayor convinced him to turn to prosecution on a difficult case. He found new joy in this, and now his track record in giving justice to the guilty was unmatched. His popularity soared, and he took on the cases the Mayor gave him personally.

After a time, the Mayor found favor with a new defense attorney, a young woman, meanwhile bestoying less grace on him. He was not happy over this, but continued the fights the Mayor had given him, hoping to regain his status. However, when the young woman came up against him in court, things got very heated. She was not his equal in ability, though, and knowing this she decided to break into his office to destroy valuable files. He knew what had happened for which files had been removed, but he found that investigation into the event was virtually non-existant. He went to the Mayor to discuss the matters, and found the Mayor refusing to be a part of either side of this. So he decided to take matters into his own hands; he hired investigators and found the proof to prosecute her. This is when he lost the Mayor's favor, and subsequently she was found not guilty and his practice was left disreputable.

He'd already begun beating me then, but now it was worse. This is when I screamed for help, and found no way out. Even when he nearly killed me, no one intervened. I resigned myself to this life, and stayed for the house. Later I stayed for our child.

Then one day they came. I had not bid them come for years, but they came just the same. The Mayor came in with the police force to take him away, they just barged in with guns. They killed our child, an accident they tell me. They claimed they had a warrant to find his illegal drug making facilities, I can only assume they refer to our meager wine making enterprises. He escaped somehow, of course, I do not know where he went. I protested the invasion, and then the slaying of our child, so I was taken to the jail, "Obstruction of Justice". I was there 3 days before seeing my first hearing.

When I returned to my family home, it was gone. The police had not remained to protect the lands or the building, and left it open. I was told first they looted, then they burned it. I do not even know where my child's corpse is now. And because the house had become his, I was given no claims for insurance, for recompense. I was sent into the system of eternal shuffling and welfare care, and soon institutionalized for madness.

Today I am brought back to the land that I once played in happily with my mother and father, to the land where my child ran, and discovered a wine factory in place of my memories. A wine factory owned by the former Mayor. My husband never returned, and by the time the paperwork could be made to return the land back to me, I was lost in the system of the insane. The land returned to the state, then sold for a few dollars, sold to the Mayor.

Perhaps it is just my madness, but this is why I do not understand why you bring me here to rejoice in my liberation. I am not full of rejoicing, I have lost everything.

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