03-16-2011, 03:50 AM
June 2nd, 1878: The Beechworth Home near Rochester
Francesca had always loved summer in Kent. It was muggy, but not too stifling quite yet, and the taste of the sweet summer air let Chess know that she could now tend to her gardens without fear of them getting frostbitten by an unusually cold spring day.
Of course, with the arrival of summer brought with it the more frequent travels of her brothers and father to the nearby township, where they would gamble more than they were at leave to do in the winter. The winter was their dead period, where they mostly drank themselves into a stupor at home, as their delicate tendencies hated being out in the cold and the snow. They were spoiled men, their lifestyles befitting some of greater status and pockets, and Chess felt the brunt of it. She was just past her twenty fifth birthday, and Chess was well aware that there would be no good match for her. There were no funds for a season, and she had nothing to come with her but an unsavory family connection.
Try as she might, Chess might have despised her family on some level, but she ultimately couldn't forsake them. They were her family. And that was all that mattered.
That particular evening, Hal and her father had come home earlier than Calvin had, both of them passed out in their quarters. They were really harmless in their drunken states, Chess mused. Almost endearing, if it wasn't abysmal the type of men they became under the drink. Foolish, stupid, loose-lipped and loose-pursed men. But harmless.
A few hours later, Chess was aware of Calvin returning home, though how in God's name he stayed on his horse she was unsure. Calvin stumbled in, in typical fashion, and Chess supported his weight with a sigh and a dedicated air.
"Come on Cal, she said with motherly resignation, and Calvin stumbled up after her, their footman and one of the few employees they had taking to the horse at Chess's command. Chess pulled him up the steps towards the bedrooms upstairs, as her routine was. Something seemed off though. Calvin was talkative, grumbling about losing money over a boxing match and cursing about some acquaintance that Chess didn't know and was certain was just as unsavory as her brother.
Chess helped Cal into his bed expecting him to roll over and pass out immediately. She sighed and reached down to pick up a few stray pieces of clothing, ones that reeked of whiskey and smoke that Cal had undoubtedly shed the night before, or that morning when he woke from his drunken stupor. Suddenly however, Chess felt strong, violent hands on her hips, and she took a moment to realize what was happening.
Chess heard the violent rip of her dress as she struggled against her larger, stronger, and fundamentally more controlling brother, Chess knew what was to come. Angry tears formed in her eyes and she hit and punched her brother, but he was driven by some mad, animalistic power. She could smell the stench of the whiskey on his breath as he forced his mouth over hers in miserable, violent kisses. Chess even bit his lip to try and dissuade the advances, but that seemed to incite him further. Cal pushed her down onto the floor, forcing her to bear her weight on her elbows and knees, her lower body open and vulnerable, surrounded by the tatters of her dress.
Chess thought that she might have screamed, at some point in time and some where. It wouldn't have mattered in any case. Hal and her father were out in a stone cold stupor and they were miles away from the next estate, and so Chess sobbed. The floor was hard and Chess felt her skin bruising as Calvin grasped at her legs hard and spread her unceremoniously. She let out a violent scream of terror as she felt her innocence being violated, ripped form her, and Chess felt everything sacred and every hope she'd ever had of a modest marriage slipping from her fingertips. In a single act, her brother had ruined her future more than he had ruined her present.
Chess continued to struggle and fight against him for a moment or so, but then he thrust more violently, and Chess could do nothing but cry weakly and submit to his violence as she was ruined, on the wooden floor of her childhood home. Calvin finished himself off, and left Chess to lay there in shock and betrayal on the cold floor. Chess's entire body felt cold, and she caught a movement out the corner of her eye. She lifted her head, her tears blurring her vision and her clothes in tatters, just as her innocence was. Chess thought she might have been bleeding, but she could hardly lift herself to check in that moment. She feared what he might do next.
Soon, Calvin was back to her, gripping her thigh and wrenching it wide. Before she knew it, there was a searing pain at the inside of her thigh near her most private and now violated area, the delicate skin burning and searing with the scent of burning human flesh. Chess gasped and strangled out a soft, tired scream, and she heard the cruel laughter of Calvin. "Now you'll forever belong to me, you nasty chit," he crooned out in a cruel voice. Calvin left her then and collapsed in his bed, as though the exertion of the rape had finally broken into his strengths.
Chess lay there on the floor, sobbing quietly as she felt the pain of her leg. Finally she lifted herself enough to be able to look down at the place between her thighs, her entire body aching and feeling dirty and ruined. And there, amongst the blood and aroused fluids of Calvin's release, she saw the burned image of her brother's crest ring on her flesh.
Forever ruined. Forever a Beechworth. And forever worthless.
Francesca had always loved summer in Kent. It was muggy, but not too stifling quite yet, and the taste of the sweet summer air let Chess know that she could now tend to her gardens without fear of them getting frostbitten by an unusually cold spring day.
Of course, with the arrival of summer brought with it the more frequent travels of her brothers and father to the nearby township, where they would gamble more than they were at leave to do in the winter. The winter was their dead period, where they mostly drank themselves into a stupor at home, as their delicate tendencies hated being out in the cold and the snow. They were spoiled men, their lifestyles befitting some of greater status and pockets, and Chess felt the brunt of it. She was just past her twenty fifth birthday, and Chess was well aware that there would be no good match for her. There were no funds for a season, and she had nothing to come with her but an unsavory family connection.
Try as she might, Chess might have despised her family on some level, but she ultimately couldn't forsake them. They were her family. And that was all that mattered.
That particular evening, Hal and her father had come home earlier than Calvin had, both of them passed out in their quarters. They were really harmless in their drunken states, Chess mused. Almost endearing, if it wasn't abysmal the type of men they became under the drink. Foolish, stupid, loose-lipped and loose-pursed men. But harmless.
A few hours later, Chess was aware of Calvin returning home, though how in God's name he stayed on his horse she was unsure. Calvin stumbled in, in typical fashion, and Chess supported his weight with a sigh and a dedicated air.
"Come on Cal, she said with motherly resignation, and Calvin stumbled up after her, their footman and one of the few employees they had taking to the horse at Chess's command. Chess pulled him up the steps towards the bedrooms upstairs, as her routine was. Something seemed off though. Calvin was talkative, grumbling about losing money over a boxing match and cursing about some acquaintance that Chess didn't know and was certain was just as unsavory as her brother.
Chess helped Cal into his bed expecting him to roll over and pass out immediately. She sighed and reached down to pick up a few stray pieces of clothing, ones that reeked of whiskey and smoke that Cal had undoubtedly shed the night before, or that morning when he woke from his drunken stupor. Suddenly however, Chess felt strong, violent hands on her hips, and she took a moment to realize what was happening.
Chess heard the violent rip of her dress as she struggled against her larger, stronger, and fundamentally more controlling brother, Chess knew what was to come. Angry tears formed in her eyes and she hit and punched her brother, but he was driven by some mad, animalistic power. She could smell the stench of the whiskey on his breath as he forced his mouth over hers in miserable, violent kisses. Chess even bit his lip to try and dissuade the advances, but that seemed to incite him further. Cal pushed her down onto the floor, forcing her to bear her weight on her elbows and knees, her lower body open and vulnerable, surrounded by the tatters of her dress.
Chess thought that she might have screamed, at some point in time and some where. It wouldn't have mattered in any case. Hal and her father were out in a stone cold stupor and they were miles away from the next estate, and so Chess sobbed. The floor was hard and Chess felt her skin bruising as Calvin grasped at her legs hard and spread her unceremoniously. She let out a violent scream of terror as she felt her innocence being violated, ripped form her, and Chess felt everything sacred and every hope she'd ever had of a modest marriage slipping from her fingertips. In a single act, her brother had ruined her future more than he had ruined her present.
Chess continued to struggle and fight against him for a moment or so, but then he thrust more violently, and Chess could do nothing but cry weakly and submit to his violence as she was ruined, on the wooden floor of her childhood home. Calvin finished himself off, and left Chess to lay there in shock and betrayal on the cold floor. Chess's entire body felt cold, and she caught a movement out the corner of her eye. She lifted her head, her tears blurring her vision and her clothes in tatters, just as her innocence was. Chess thought she might have been bleeding, but she could hardly lift herself to check in that moment. She feared what he might do next.
Soon, Calvin was back to her, gripping her thigh and wrenching it wide. Before she knew it, there was a searing pain at the inside of her thigh near her most private and now violated area, the delicate skin burning and searing with the scent of burning human flesh. Chess gasped and strangled out a soft, tired scream, and she heard the cruel laughter of Calvin. "Now you'll forever belong to me, you nasty chit," he crooned out in a cruel voice. Calvin left her then and collapsed in his bed, as though the exertion of the rape had finally broken into his strengths.
Chess lay there on the floor, sobbing quietly as she felt the pain of her leg. Finally she lifted herself enough to be able to look down at the place between her thighs, her entire body aching and feeling dirty and ruined. And there, amongst the blood and aroused fluids of Calvin's release, she saw the burned image of her brother's crest ring on her flesh.
Forever ruined. Forever a Beechworth. And forever worthless.
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