A/N: I am so sorry in advance. So sorry...

Warning: Depictions of violence and torture. And triggering factors that you guys might be uncomfortable with. Be warned.

Ch 2:

Tear-stained; Blood.

Screams. High pitched moans. Shrieks of agony and pain. It swirled back and forth around her head, the aching sounds too much for her. A whip, and another... And another. She closed her eyes, feeling as if it was intruding to even think of it nor heed it. But she couldn't help it, it was distracting to say the least. It was daytime, 2 pm like the sun says outside but you couldn't see any sunlight here-all curtains closed, windows locked and any bit of light from outside will be kept outside. The stereotypical rich family they'll say. And they were.

She didn't expect the screams would get higher and louder but it did. You could feel the agony whispering in your ear and the pain hugging you tight. The atmosphere wasn't helping neither-it was deadly quite and silent. It only highlighted the sounds of torture just across the hall. Another one-a whip with a scream far more painful than the others. Her heart raced and it felt like it would burst out any minute now.

If she could see herself in a different perspective right now, she'd expect a child of blonde and grey eyes, her figure just right for her age but her lips usually in a tranquil smile would turn into a grimace. If you'll look into her eyes-you could see the chaos flowing around like mist. Her knees buckled and shook. It was fear hugging her again-wrapped around her like a blanket in a winter night. But it was cold and not at all comforting. Another whip. She breathed slowly, her chest rising-beating ever so rapidly.

Her eyes wandered to her mother, Abigail Adams, her namesake. The epitome of a stiff, proper woman who lived her life getting what she wanted. Abigail Sr. had a blank expression painted on her pointy face-acting like she was oblivious of the cries of pain just outside the parlor. Unlike her mother, she wasn't bearing a bored face, she's fidgeting uncomfortably, flinching uncontrollably. This confused Abigail (Jr.), how could her own mother not notice or even close her eyes while screams could be heard from the other side? She looked longingly upon her mother, begging for some answer or perhaps a clue.

"Mothe-"

"Abigail, come forth." Abigail (Sr.) patted her an open space for Abigail to sit beside her. Abigail (Jr.) skipped lightly as she went across the room to her mother.

Abigail (Sr.) turned her straight body to where her daughter was seated and started pleating her blonde hair. Dainty hands skimmed the little girl's silky hair, braiding it into beautiful weaves. "Abigail-" she pulled her hair tight, Abigail (Jr.) flinched. "-remember that no one-" tighter, she moaned internally. "-mustn't know what took place here-" even tighter, she tried to pull back but she couldn't. "-do you understand, Abbey?" Her mother asked just as she finished her weaving, that sickly sweet tone used. She did nothing but nodded vigorously, tears staining her pink cheeks.

"None of that. I taught you to be strong. Is this showing you're strong?" Abigail (Sr.) put her hands on her daughter's small shoulders rather roughly. Abigail (Jr.) shook her head sideways in answer.

Abigail (Sr.) let her hands go and immediately wiped the tears that stained her daughter's face. "Alright, get dressed. We're going somewhere." And she took off with a loud click on the door even before Abigail (Jr.) could ask. She still has unshed tears on her eyes, ready to fall down now.

Abigail looked at the door that separated the torture from her. She understood why her parents would let her hear these sounds, she understands now. Fear struck her again as the other room became quite and still. Tears dripped her cheeks, splashing onto the floor. She heard the door click closed and footsteps on the hall, walking farther from the rooms. Abigail stood up slowly, she reached the cold brass knob of the door and opened it slowly. Peeking if there's someone out there. Fortunately, there wasn't.

Moans-she could hear them as she stepped outside. Quiet pleas coming from the door just in front of her. Her mind said no but her heart ached to help the person inside. Her decision weighed on her shoulders, too heavy for her to carry alone. Her heart was thumping and her breathing paced fast. Abigail firmly gripped the door knob, closed her eyes, sucked in a deep breath and opened the door. She opened her eyes. And she wished she didn't.

Eliza, she breathed. Even more tears.

That was a memory Abigail can't forget and she wanted to erase it from her mind. Seeing a little girl just her age with scars and bruises up her body. Eliza had been whipped and beaten up. It was miracle that she's still alive but Abigail knows that Eliza wanted to die from the spot. Eliza's blood stained her dress mixed with her tears. She knelt in front of the battered girl that day-helping her with all that she can help. Two little girls had felt and seen such pain and misery in a young age.

Now they were adults-twenty years old. Ten years of horror for both of them. Abigail told herself, why she kept on helping this girl. She didn't know, she just did and will never stop. Abigail wrung her fingers nervously and walked stiffly in her tight dress, a robe on to conceal her identity.

She knew it was uncalled for to be in the peasant's village but this is where she truly belongs. The people were happy even though there's nothing on the table to eat. Oh how she wished she could bring Eliza here. She knew that she loved the sunlight as much as she does. But she also knew she can't. It was sad to think for the most part. Abigail couldn't help but smile at the sight of children dancing like they didn't know what the world kept hidden from them.

She guessed she started going to village every once in a week when she hid out from her parents on a rather painful night of scolding and fighting-that was even before Eliza was brought to their house. Abigail knew the consequences but she didn't stop at all. Like helping Eliza, it was almost a duty for her to protect the woman. They acted civil around each other though, it was Abigail's expectation either. She wouldn't even think that Eliza thought of her as a friend or anything, trust these times is hard to gain for a person like Eliza. Abigail knew that and she wasn't hoping for anything higher right now. All she cared for is make Eliza think she has nothing to be worried about her. That's all. Nothing more, nothing less.

And this is where she met someone. Someone who could help her, who would help them. She felt a tug on her dress, Abigail looked down. "Miss Abbey, are you here for us again?" A boy about six or seven smiled toothily up at her, she chuckled. Putting her large basket down and picking up the small boy, twirling him around. "Why yes Jack! Say, did you miss me?" He nodded enthusiastically, that made her chuckle again.

"Very well then, gather up your friends and let's read something from my basket." Jack let go of her and ran to find his friends. She felt a tap on her shoulder and turned around.

"Miss Abigail, how nice to see you again." Marie greeted her warmly. Marie was the teacher in this village, a cheerful brunette with a happy disposition. Abigail frowned.

"How many times do I have to tell you, Marie that you shall call me Abigail." Marie felt a bit sheepish but Abigail laughed at it anyways. "From now on, it's Abigail."

Marie nodded, "Yes, mi-Abigail." She smiled warmly in response. She noticed then Marie absently resting her hand on her stomach. That caught her curiosity. Marie noticed this and chuckled albeit painfully.

"You may have not have known. But I'm pregnant. After that devastating miscarriage-" Abigail's mind went black, her breathing quickened and her vision had spots. Marie was asking something in concern, but she couldn't hear it. She felt like the world was shaking, she held onto Marie as memories came back to her. Her cheeks became wet. Blood.

She could remember that night. Sleepily but alertly walking into a familiar room-her eyes widened immediately. There it was, blood, blood all over around the place. Abigail was shaking that moment, blood was like any other things she saw but this was different. There stood a woman about her age, clinging onto her stomach like she'll lose it. Tears burned her eyes as she understood what happened. The screams and shrieks pushed into her ears, forcefully listening to the waves of pain it held. Abigail ran up to her, the blood seeping down to her legs. Miscarriage. She lost the baby.

Eliza lost the baby.

Chapter: 2

Word Count: 1,500+ words