The Privileged

If walls could talk, I would have many stories to tell. From ballgowns to suits, the people who have gathered in this room have displayed many changing faces.

At first glance, the room looks like any other ballroom, elegant, with dark brown marble floors, high ceilings and long mirrors along the sides. Enormous gold chandeliers cascade down the center and sides, one by one creating a dark and ominous illumination throughout. Along the dark corners, men and women huddle, whispering to each other in muddled voices, drinks in hand, light music playing in the background. Some bartering their wives, girlfriends, even daughters for goods, desperation seeping from their veins. After all, their resources had begun to dwindle. It’s a wonder they could still afford such lavish clothing for their weekly “balls.” It was also a good excuse to keep any of the wretchedly poor from coming in to beg and disturb their good time.

There is another layer to this, an infatuation perhaps – with status, control, power. If one nobleman had the power over a limited resource such as oil, then they had the upper hand in deciding first which woman they would like to take home, or even just to the upstairs guest room, for the night. Some of these women give themselves voluntarily, the look of pride and mischief in their eyes, darkened with far too much makeup made to arouse a man of stature. Their eyes batting, large smirks on their faces as they turn back to look at their husbands and partners who are already enticed by the women in front of them. Others follow with heads down, a look of dissociation in their eyes.

One by one, couples calmly head towards the back entrance, loading into their carriages home while others head up the large staircases to the sides of the ballroom towards the empty guest rooms upstairs, laughing and carrying on as they make their way up.

The room begins to quiet down as the doors close, save for 2 couples in the left corner of the ballroom. A thin young woman sits on a chair crying, handkerchief close to her face. The skirt of her burgundy and gold gown erupting out of the chair - too big to fit. Her long brown hair is sprawled across her distressed face. A man stands beside her, tall and lean, his wispy short brown hair brushed to the side of his face which is visibly frustrated. He is wearing a grey wool suit, his pocket watch hanging down from his vest.

He leans down to face her in the chair. “Abigail, you MUST!” He gently pleads in a stern tone. She begins to sob harder into the handkerchief, her black mascara running over the hand stitched flowers.

“Please John, I just…I can’t…” she whispers in between sobs.

He stands up again, fixing his suit, he waves his hand at her dismissively. “You knew what you were getting into when this began. I don’t want to hear that now.” He says in a firmer tone, his hand rubbing the stubble on his chin, he begins to sigh. He walks over to the other gentleman across from him, an older man, possibly in his 40s with a salt and pepper trimmed beard and a tall strong frame, who is tapping his foot in irritation, looking down at his pocket watch.

“I have to apologize for my new bride, she clearly doesn’t understand how things work here but she WILL understand.” John whips his neck around, glaring at Abigail who has just looked up from her handkerchief, black tears still streaming down her face. A look of fear strikes her, her lip begins to quiver.

The man scoffs, “Well, is she going to do it or not? I haven’t got all night. We had a deal, you told me she would be willing.” The woman next to him, Camila, a tall striking beauty, begins tapping her heel impatiently. Her deep brown hair grazes her shoulders. She is standing in a large strapless black velvet ballgown tugging at her long black gloves. She crosses her arms and rolls her eyes at Abigail.

John whips back around and storms back to Abigail, gripping her arm and lifting her up from the chair. She begins to sob harder “John, please! I’ll do anything just not that!”

He grabs her shoulders and whispers in her ear, “You must do this. You are embarrassing me! I made a deal with Mr. Treager and he is the biggest landowner in the region and he had his eyes set on YOU. We NEED this alliance, and you are going to help us get it.” He says, his voice dripping with disdain. “You wouldn’t want to be responsible for the downfall of our house, would you?” He pulls his face away from her ear. Abigail silently shakes her head no but begins to plead again “John, please.”

He lifts his hand as though to hit her and she turns away in fear. He gently pulls her chin down to meet his glaring eyes and stays there for a moment. He releases her face and throws her onto Mr. Treager. “She’s yours.” He walks over to Camila and grabs her hand, leading her up the stairs behind them. The woman turns back to look down at Abigail as she climbs the staircase, eyebrows raised, as if to say….do as you are told.

She turns her face to Mr. Treager, trying to force a smile.

“Well…that’s much better now, isn’t it?” he says, a sadistic grin across his face. His hands firmly grip her arms. Abigail begins to gently pull away, but his grip only tightens. He grabs her by the arm and leads her up the stairs.

“Don’t make this harder than it has to be, doll.” She slowly puts her head down, lifting herself on the railing, a defeated expression on her face. They move towards an open guest room in the back right corner, their figures disappearing into the darkness, the large door closes behind them.

Some time goes by…silence.

Suddenly, a gunshot! The sound of glass shattering fills the space and then a loud thud. The doors to the rooms begin to open, women and men in undergarments and robes peeking their heads out of the doors, looking and whispering in horror. Finally, the door to the front of the staircase opens, John’s head peeking out in annoyance to see what the fuss is about. Camila peaks her head out behind him standing in a rose-colored silk robe, her red lipstick smudged across her face. They all look towards the room to the far right, the only door that has yet to be opened.

The door slowly opens, and a loud creak fills the room. Everyone’s whispers die down, a look of fear across their faces. Darkness then appears Abigail slowly walking into the light, her face bloodied, arms bruised, dress straps torn and dangling off her frail frame. She lifts her hand to reveal a gun and points it right at John, hands trembling. The crowd screams and gasps in fear, the women clutching onto the men beside them. Abigail looks at John, her eyes fiery with hate. She slowly walks toward him, gun pointed directly at his chest.

“You vile human being, you forced me to be your bait in this disgusting game!” She continues to move closer, still pointing the gun at John.

She looks around the room, “You ALL are disgusting! Sharing your wives, making them do this for your own gain! And some of you women…willingly go with it? As if it’s expected of you! I feel sorry for you. What kind of society is this?” She points the gun at everyone in the group. John takes a step forward; she directs her aim at him once again. He lifts his hands up playfully, a smirk now forming across his face. “Abigail, darling, we all know you’re not going to do this so just put the gun down and we’ll talk about this, in private.” His expression changes back to irritation and the darkness returns to his eyes.

She shakingly firms her grasp on the gun towards John. “Don’t move, I’ll shoot you! I promise I will, John. Marrying you was the biggest mistake of my life...e-entering this God forsaken place! You promised me a better life than the one I had; you knew how much I struggled. You enticed me with all your “riches” but it was all a lie!” She looks at John, her eyes beginning to tear up again. “This place is dying, and you are all dying with it.”

She catches a glimpse at a woman in the corner, hiding herself and tugging at her robe nervously, tears streaming down her seemingly tortured face. In that moment, John lunges forward and Abigail blindly pulls the trigger, the bullet grazes his arm. He screams in pain and holds his arm, his face becoming red with rage now, he lunges toward her again. He pushes her down onto the floor, reaching for the gun in her hand. She resists but he forcefully hits her face, taking the gun and standing over her.

“I’m sorry Abigail, it seems you weren’t the right wife for me. I guess that’s just too bad. Better luck next time.” He pretends to make a distressed face, only to smirk again. Her eyes widen, she begins to say “Please, n…”

She lifts her arms above her face. He pulls the trigger, and the bullet plunges into her chest. Her arms fall to the ground. Blood begins to pour out of her mouth and body, flowing into her long brown hair that is now sprawled out onto the dark marble floor.

John snaps his fingers and two stewards dressed in uniform come running up the stairs. He raises his eyebrows, glaring down at them. He points dismissively at Abigal’s body. “You know what to do, clean this up! And make sure that there is no trace left behind of her body when you dispose of it, not that anyone would miss her.” He glances at her lifeless body, unphased.

“Clean up Mr. Treager’s body in front of the building as soon as possible and dump it somewhere far away, we wouldn’t want it getting out that he was here when he died.” He holds out the gun in disgust. “Fetch me a handkerchief as well. We wouldn’t any fingerprints on it now, would we?” They both nod frantically and run to the closet to grab the materials.

John looks at the crowd, horrified by what they have just seen. “Come now, this is good.” He lifts his hands up in triumph. “She knew too much anyhow. We all know that this happens from time to time.”

He looks down at Abigail’s body again, “My dear wife, Rest in Peace angel.” He looks up and smiles at Camila who is smiling back. “Shall we?” He turns away, putting his arm around her and she playfully places her arm around his waist. They both turn to head back into the room. He yells out, not stopping to turn around to face the group as they wearily go back into their rooms. “Enjoy your night everyone!”

The doors close behind them. Silence.