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The ache hadn’t left her body. Her ribcage burned at every twist and turn. When she stood, it would continue its screams. As she laid upon the wooden flooring, the pain squeezed into her chest. She had long given up on finding any sort of comfort, the bruising would keep its nasty rage underneath her dirtying clothes and she’d have to continue on as if the head of a boot hadn’t made its sharp mark for a time period Maria couldn’t pinpoint. Anytime one left, another would take its place. She stopped tracking healing periods after a while.
There wasn’t an incentive to speak or request to see a doctor, spend money she barely had or God forbid occupy Olivia with worry. Enduring never proved itself difficult if Maria could be selfish with a few hours away from the stables or farm, under the shade provided by Olivia’s favorite gazebo. If Maria could allow herself to melt into pristine paint, reflecting the lushness she couldn’t imagine to reach, and indulge the rambling of Olivia’s plans of never marrying so the two would never have to separate. To raise an orphan together in some cabin nearby the family estate, even if it were unconstitutional because she’d swear up and down, “The whole world wouldn’t need to know anyways, Daddy would give the help whenever we need it.”
Maria knew better than to believe the dreams of a rich eighteen year old, but she needed her more than ever.