Ghostly Whispers
By
Jinx Williams
 

1906 

“What do you mean ‘I can’t’?” Jesse stomped her foot. “Daddy said I could.”

“He said you could when you were done with your schooling. Now, again, what is three multiplied by four?” Rachel tapped the table in front of Jesse to get her attention.

“Twelve.” The young girl rolled her eyes.

“Very good. Last one, twenty-five divided by five?” Rachel took away the small ball that Jesse was rolling back and forth on the table. “Jess, what is…”

“I heard you.” Jesse sighed. “Five. Can I go now?”

“Yes. Remember to do your report!” She called after Jesse’s retreating form. She sighed as the young girl hurried off to play.

Rachel piled the books together that she used to teach with and brought them to her desk. Looking out into the bright sunshine, she smiled wearily. She should be walking along the overgrown paths by her fiancée's cottage, not sitting in this prison of a house.

There was a slight rapping on her door. “Mistress Tuttle?”

Rachel closed her eyes tight and cleared her throat. “Yes, Mr. Abbott?” She painted on a smile and faced the man she detested. When she first met the widower, she was glad for the work opportunity. He would pay her, along with room and board, in return for her services. However, as the months went by, she felt more and more uncomfortable and hated the decision she made to take the position.

He entered the library, which doubled as the classroom, and closed the door behind him. “How are Jesse’s studies coming along?” He walked closer, his eyes darting around the large library, as if making sure they were alone.

“Your daughter is very bright, sir.” She swallowed and walked to the other side of her desk. "If you'll excuse me, I'm meeting my fiancée for dinner."

He roughly grabbed her arm, turning her to face him. She gasped at the sudden movement. Trying to wrench her arm free only made him squeeze harder.

“Unhand me, sir.” She glared down at his hand then up to his face.

“I took you in from the streets, and this is the thanks I get? I let you have my spare room, without charging you rent.” He shook her hard. “You are in my house and should repay me for the charity I give you.”

“You pay me hardly any wages for teaching your daughter and your staffs’ children. How do you expect me to pay you?”

“You will come to my bed,” he sneered, leaning toward her. She turned her head away, in disgust, when he tried to kiss her mouth, causing him to kiss her cheek. With a growl, he pushed her away. “So, this is how you show me your appreciation?”

“I will not share anything of my body with you, you disgusting rat!” She moved around her desk and grabbed her bag. “I am engaged to be married. I am no whore. You want some whore? Fine! I will not be that for anyone!” She shoved past him and hurried down the stairs.

“Rachel! You get back here, or I’ll make it so you will never work in this town again.”

She heard him, yelling after her. Hurrying to the front door, she did not expect him to be right behind her. A pull on her long black braid yanked her head back forcefully, just as she reached for the doorknob.

“Going somewhere?” His foul breath filled her nostrils.

“Let me go.” She needed to control the panic beginning to overcome her body. She tried to hit him, but he caught her hand before she could. He took both of her wrists into his large hand and pushed her to the floor, pinning her hands above her head.

“You’re playing hard to get. I like that in a woman.” He ripped open her bodice, exposing her sheer camisole.

“Stop! No!” She kicked at him and connected right between his legs. He emitted a loud grunt and, while grasping his privates, fell to the side.

She flipped over onto her hands and knees. While she tried to stand, Mr. Abbott grabbed her ankle. She tripped and fell, knocking her head on the corner of a table. She lay stunned, blinking to clear her vision. She could hear Mr. Abbott, moving next to her.

“Bitch,” his voice was strained, his breathing ragged. He was on his knees, inching closer.

Rachel shook her head and stood. She still could not see straight, and she could feel hot sticky blood running down her forehead and cheek. She made her way as fast as her wobbly legs could carry her to the door.

Mr. Abbott stood, and Rachel could feel his eyes, boring into her.

She gripped at the door handle, missing several times because of her blurred vision.

When she turned to see where Abbott was, she heard a loud bang. She blinked and stared at him. He stood by the desk, a smoking gun in his hand. He must have fired a shot to scare her. In shock, she watched him closely. She did not want to make any movements that would cause him to fire the gun again and actually hit her the next time.

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