Chapter Text
Viktoria scrubs at the floor. Her fingernails are covered in dirt and blood. Her arms ache after doing this for hours. It’s only one small spot; a dot of dried blood sitting on the wood.
She stares at it, and at her fingernails, and at the dot again. She considers slamming her fist into the floor. She considers shooting at it. Already she can hear the sound of wood splintering, of the echo. She only stares at it.
She doesn’t know where it came from, or why nobody had cleaned it yet. Blood sits between the floorboards, sure, but that can’t be helped. Leon once said he swore the place was built out of meat. The blood, just in the open, put Viktoria there on her knees scrubbing with her nails.
It wasn’t her assignment to clean. She shouldn’t be cleaning. She stares at the small spot of blood. She scratches at the stain, pain sprouting in her fingers.
Viktoria realizes how dark it is only when the front doors open. Sun hits everywhere it feels allowed, up to the altar and over all the rows of seats. It already chokes Viktoria.
“I knew you’d be in here.”
She stares at the open door, and the light that floods in from it. She grabs at her belt, dagger already in hand, before searching the doorframe. Her hand drops when she sees Edith, standing with a basket in her hands. Her shoes click gently against the wood as she walks in.
“Hello.” Viktoria does not stand, only watches Edith walk closer.
“We had extra strawberries.” Edith smiles. The basket swings lightly from her hands. “I knew you’d want some.”
She sits down beside Viktoria, her dress pooling around her while she settles. She fumbles with the cloth that's covering the basket, looking down at it fondly.
They didn’t grow extra strawberries. The forest dirt doesn’t allow for much of anything to grow, and nothing that would give you more than you needed. Nothing grows in winter. Viktoria stares at the basket.
“Does he know you’re here?”
Edith pauses, only for a moment, but it’s enough for Viktoria to see. The unspoken answer echoes between them.
“Yes, of course he does.” She says it like otherwise it’d be blasphemy. She picks up a strawberry, and holds it out to Viktoria.
Viktoria takes it gently, her fingertips brushing against Edith’s. She bites into it, the taste sweet enough to make her sick. She stares at Edith.
“It’s perfect.”
Edith turns her head down, face pink. She’s smiling bashfully, looking up at Viktoria through her eyelashes.
“You can have the whole basket, we really don’t need it, and the church-goers would love some, I assume” her words come out in stutters, quiet and barely audible. Viktoria leans in to hear her.
“You do enough for us.” she puts out her hand, pushing Edith’s offer down back to the basket.
“I insist.” Edith smiles, shyly pushing the basket to Viktoria. Shame washes over her face. Viktoria doesn’t ask, only takes the basket. She will return these strawberries few by few, through their breakfasts shared at the chapel. Edith would know they were hers, and would eat them anyways. Viktoria knows she wants them back.
“How is it, in here?” Edith folds her hands in her lap. She stares expectantly at Viktoria, eyes wide and doll-like.
“Fine.” Viktoria looks down at the spot of blood, now brought to light from the doors. It stares back at her. “I’m cleaning.”
“Oh, I thought you only did, um, hunting. And marriage." She looks uncomfortably to the door, and back to Viktoria.
“Yes.” Viktoria says. Her chest is tightening in on her ribs, pushing against them so hard she’s sure they might break. She waits for the crack to come, and she waits for Edith to lean over and touch her chest and for the bones to fuse back together. She waits for Edith to confess that she was sent by God, and that she was going to save her.
She ignores the ache.
“I am doing this for… fun.”
Edith bursts out laughing. The sound is all Viktoria can hear– all she wants to.
“I didn’t think you knew how to have fun.” She giggles, leaning forward and putting her hand on Viktoria’s shoulder. The touch sets Viktoria’s skin aflame. Her first thought is of hell. She tilts her head, a smile still wide on her face.
Viktoria smiles, as best as she can. She tries to keep her eyes away from Edith’s lips.
“I learned from the best,” Viktoria says. “Cleaning, cooking, taking care of a sorry slob.” She’s smiling, but her voice sounds the same as before– flat and tired.
Edith frowns, eyes flickering down at her hands and back up to Viktoria. She stares for a moment, and Viktoria can see the words forming on her lips.
“You know I don’t like you speaking of him like that.” Her voice is quiet.
Viktoria’s stomach drops, twisting itself in over and over. It feels like gutting a rabbit for the first time. Her hands twitch.
Viktoria nods. “Of course.”
If Edith loves him, Viktoria has no say. She knows this. But Edith’s long sleeved dresses never sat right with her. Edith was born worried, Viktoria was sure, but Kevin only made it worse. If Edith wanted to stay married to him, Viktoria knew she couldn’t stop her.
“He loves me, you know.” Edith’s voice trembles like the sky before rain.
Viktoria stares at her. At her large eyes, her soft skin, the freckles on her cheeks that run down her neck. The words itch at the back of her throat, slipping to the corners of her mouth. Not like I do.
“Do you love him?” Viktoria puts her hand over Edith’s. The silence sits between them.
“Why?” Edith stares up at her. Her eyes are wide and glossing over with tears. Her lower lip is trembling. “What did I do?” Her voice does not convict, only asks. Maybe that’s the worst part.
“Nothing.” Viktoria says. She is as quiet as she knows how to be. She stands, as slow as she can. She has her hands reached out for Edith, waiting for her to take them. “You didn’t do anything wrong.”
“He didn’t either.” Her voice stays quiet.
Viktoria stares at her in disbelief. She hadn’t thought she could be mad at Edith. Through years of knowing her, that soft smile and face had never once convicted anger in her.
“Why do you defend him?” She couldn’t help spitting out the words. She felt sick. “That man-”
“Is my husband, and I will not have you speak ill on his name. You wed us! You had us marry under God’s name.” It’s the loudest that Viktoria has ever heard her. The whisper she had grown used to grew into a voice. By no means was it loud, but it wasn’t her.
“Then go back. See what happens.” Viktoria says as slowly as she can. The words come out cold, and sit like venom.
Edith looks at Viktoria, her eyes wide and reminiscent of a doe’s. Viktoria can only think of herself as a slaughterhouse.
Edith does not speak as she stands. She does not grab her basket when she leaves.