Sticking With the Schuylers (38)
Hi! This update came slower (ish) for a few reasons: I’ve been sick (again, the unfortunate side-effect of teaching preschool) Also, I’ve been doing a lot of research-my book total is up to 3, along with some conversations and personal experience. I’d like to reiterate that my goal is to write this plot with the highest level of respect and safety for all of you. If there is anything you feel is inaccurate, or too much, please let me know. With that being said, thanks for reading, and leaving such thoughtful comments <3
Tagging: @ellzabethschuyler, @butlinislin
Warnings: This story is pretty heavy on mentions of both physical and emotional abuse.
The apartment is quiet when Eliza returns the next day.
Angelica had seen her in a cab the few blocks there, ignoring her little sister’s protests and claiming the tabloid’s famous line of it just being ‘throw-away money’ anyway. Angelica makes the cab sit until she’s certain Eliza has reached the door. Then, it is just her.
She stares at the front door as if it is a foreign object-the daintily painted E alongside a squished in A and an ampersand suddenly catching her full attention. She fiddles with her key in the lock, juggles the curiosity of whether she’ll be greeted with silence or sound. Then, Eliza isn’t sure which she’d rather. It’s a blur, the range of her thoughts. Although they center on Alexander and their night and what it will all mean they seem to fly out in one hundred different directions with no end. She needs silence. She needs her bed. But she also needs Alexander, and his embrace and his soft-spoken words and the letters he’d written her that lay wrinkled and digested one thousand times over in the locked drawer of her desk.