Hope was never something she thought was real. Just a made up word people use as an excuse to not give up on life completely. Just a mental trap, the bodies efforts at preserving itself. Winifred never thought hope would ever mean anything to her because so long she had been with out it.
But hope had streamed in, like light through a window, pure and untouchable. Hope had led her to do some rather versatile things, but lastly, brought her here. Winifred’s fingers trailed along the wall as she strolled down the hall, feet bare, hair free and swaying with every motion. A song, quiet and low, even rose from her chest as she hummed softly. Winifred strayed from the parlor towards the sound of congregating women. Standing by the entrance, she assessed the room, as per usual. It was a bad habit, made her seem sketchy or paranoid or frenzied to those who watched her. But it made her feel safe, it allowed her to put her mind under lock and key. No one else was here, she knew that for a fact.
A small smile played on her lips, but it didn’t hold ground for long as her eyes slid along the women before her. Nicolette was a circus act all her own and Aubrey was a pillar of silent calm, but Victoire was the one she scrutinized. She crossed the room in silent steps until she was before the lady. Her doe eyes softened as she raised a hand to place on her shoulder….but thought better of it, and let it fall.
Victoire Benoit had been the hope unseen until daylight, the hope that had changed Winifred’s path so drastically. To see her hurting, in pain, wearing the same shade of agony Winifred had many times, it broke her heart. Her happiness fell away.
“I can start breakfast.” She told Victoire. A ‘Good morning” never passed her lips because this morning was particularly cruel. How dare the sun shine as though things were perfect? It doesn’t shine for you… she reminded herself, straightening her back. Only for those who are seen….We are not.
