Marigolds:

The sun blazed brightly this morning. It warmed my skin as I ran my fingertips gently over the burnt orange petals with sun-kissed yellow edges. They were almost like velvet on my hands and the flower itself nestled gently into the healing scars on my palm. I closed my eyes enveloping my senses in the sweet, gentle smell, and the velour touch on my finger tips. I leaned forward to get a better inhalation of my senses. Ever so slowly I took in the sweet scent of peace and harmony. I leaned back with my eyes closed and stayed seated among my flora, basking in the warm sunlight. My head tilted back as the sun caressed my face. It was over. I was free.

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When my captor left the house I could clean, cook, and breathe in peace without fear. He demanded everything of me, including my blood. I stared at the splintering wooden, blood-stained paddle hanging next to the fireplace. The cottage was always cold after he left. I walked over to the brown brick fireplace and threw a fresh log on the used pile. Closing my eyes I recited a spell, lit a match, and watched the flame twist and dance, exuding passion and pain. I held onto it for a moment and then threw it on the log. Watching the fire burst and sputter under the new log spurred my heart into tears. I burst out crying, unable to contain myself. Every night was similar to the last, but tonight would pivot.

'Shit' I thought as I spilled too much pepper in the pot. I had been working all day on this beef stew. 'He's going to get mad'. I tried to cover it up with sauteed garlic and turmeric. It had a robust, earthy flavor now with a caramel scent to it. With any luck he'll like it. Just then the door creaked open and the metal door handle clanged with his rings.

"I'm home, what is that smell? Did you make dessert?" He barked from the dining room.

"No, just stew" I loudly quivered. " I tried something new."

I heard a huff and the stomping of boots on the old, creaky wooden floor. The chair scratched as he pulled it out from the table. "I'm ready" he ordered. I heard the edges of the utensils slam on the table over and over again. It made my skin crawl. My heart rate began to flutter and speed up. I heard it louder and louder as a I ladled the stew into a bowl. My right hand shook as I scooped up the last bit but as I tipped the spoon into the bowl I spilled it on myself.

"Fuuuu" I screamed. I ran over to the sink to rinse it. The cool water reminded me of a waterfall my father and I traveled to. I closed my eyes and felt the coolness of the water on my skin. It slowed my heart rate as I drifted lazily in my mind in the lagoon at the base of the waterfall.

"What the hell is going on in here?" He barked. I ripped my hand away from the sink as he appeared in the doorway.

"I burned my hand with the stew. I needed to cool my hand off" I pleaded.

"You were going to feed me scalding hot stew?" He paused quietly and slowly glided closer to me. Then whispered, "How dare you, I will teach you the meaning of hot." With that he grabbed my hand and dragged me over to the stove top. In a flash my hand was thrust down on the burner and I screamed. Tears immediately came flooding down my face as I could smell my skin burn away. It felt like hours before he released my hand from the burner.

"I will be waiting at the table" he barked at me and with that he stormed off.

My jaw quivered as I grabbed a towel nearby and soaked it in cold water. I wrapped it around my hand, quietly suffering, as I grabbed the stew and walked it out to the table. Placing it down in front of him I lowered my head, waiting for permission to leave. With a growl, "Where's my biscuit?" was his only response. I stumbled off in a hurry to the kitchen and grabbed a fresh roll I had made earlier. Thankfully, they were still warm.

I stood waiting for permission to leave again while feeling the pulsing of my blisters forming under my wet towel. I could feel the blood begin to fill the cotton fibers and I hoped I would be excused in time to change the wrapping. I couldn't drip blood on the floor again; it would be the paddle for me. I glanced up at the fireplace across the room and saw it was not hanging on the mantle anymore. He must have grabbed it while I was in the kitchen. My heart began to jump into my throat as the realization that I would be hit again sunk in. I needed to free myself from this trap, I just wasn't sure how.

He began to cough a bit. "Is there turmeric in this? I hate turmeric, it makes me itch." He pushed the stew away and in one swift motion the paddle that hung on the fireplace swiftly came swinging at my face. It was so fast I didn't have time to avoid it. The sting of the wood splintered across my cheek. I touched my left cheek tenderly and pulled out a small wooden sliver soaked in my blood. As I fixated my gaze at the splinter, I was hit again across the face this time around my temple. A buzzing began as I fell to the old wooden floor. A wooden floor plank popped up and smacked me in the forehead. I looked to the right and saw it was completely loose. In a moment of adrenaline, I slid my hand underneath the wood plank and pulled it up.

"What the-"

Pshst! I swung the plank from over my right shoulder, across his head, as hard as I could. I felt like a baseball player swinging for the fences. He fell instantly and hit his head on the corner of the table on the way down. The blood pooled around his head like a spilled milk carton. I stood there watching it form as I dropped the wood plank and heavily caught my breath. I watched stoically as he took his last breath.

'Better clean this up before it stains' I said to myself. I frolicked into the kitchen and grabbed whatever cleaning supplies I could find. I knew my face was swollen and dripping in blood as well but not nearly as much as his. It was just another Wednesday in this cottage. But, finally it was the last. When I bent under the sink to pull out a black trash bag, a box of seeds that I tucked under the sink fell out. The marigolds were at the top of the pile. "Perfect" I cooed. I hustled over to where he was and checked for a pulse. Nothing. I sat back and begun to cry, then burst into laughter and felt relief, as I knew I was free of the torture I had been submitted to over the last few months. It was over.

That night I dug a deep hole, stripped him of clothing, and rolled him into the dark abyss. I could feel nocturnal animals supporting me as I filled the hole back up. I stumbled inside at daybreak and saw the fire was slowly going out. I threw his clothing on the fire and it raged back to life. Sitting in his brown, cherry wood chair I watched the red soaked flannel disappear, fiber after fiber. I drifted off to sleep there. For the first time in many nights, I would sleep peacefully. When I awoke, I built a planter box above the hole and filled it full of marigold seeds. I knew I could create something beautiful from something so dark.

After a few months they grew into the most beautiful flowers, and I began to sell them around town. My scars had almost completely healed, and I would sell them at farmers markets and to the locals. I told people I moved into town recently and was hoping to settle down there. Most people didn't question that, but the rumors of a dark figure haunting the forest on the edge of town begun to arise. People asked where the person in the cottage went after I moved in. I said It was sold to me by a widow and I asked nothing more about it. It seemed to be enough. I knew the dark soul of that individual would be tormented to see beauty in their place and I felt no remorse.

Time after time, I was told I grew the most beautiful flowers anyone had ever seen. I had begun to grow lilacs, daisies, roses, and lavender along with herbs for the town creating an apothecary. I became the resident chemist and florist, but my bestseller tonic and flower were always the marigolds. The town folk were always asking me what my secret was.

"Fertilizer" I answer with a smirk. Little did they know how true that was.