I remember the days when a change befell Abigaille. A strange man would steal into our house in the dead of night. It was once in a blue moon that these visits occurred, but they were always predictable. I'd always hear his heavy footsteps cross the shadow of my door while the rest of my family slept peacefully. Next, there would be the expecting silence, followed by the long, sleepy whine of my Nanna's door. I'd sit up in my bed and listen hard. These visits didn't bother me so much when I was young, but as I aged, I felt the need to listen. As I look back on it now, those drives were more like an animalistic instinct, not so much unlike an alpha male protecting his territory. I would never hear anything though. No screaming in terror. No laughter. No yelling. No nothing. Just loving silence. It eventually lulled me back to sleep.
The morning after, I would find myself sleeping in, and going to the breakfast table late, only to find Elias munching away happily on his meal. The strange man and Abigaille would exchange small looks every so often. Abby would be drinking coffee. It was surprising to see her do it. She hates it. As far back as I can remember, she's told me that, but every morning after those nights she would be sipping away at it from the same dark mug with a smile on her face as though it was the sweetest nectar in all the land.
Again, a change befell her when the man was no longer joining us for breakfast, and the change was not for the better. His visitation lengths varied, but the result was the same. When he wasn't there in the morning, Abigaille would be sitting next to Elias holding that mug between her hands and having an expressionless face. Elias would not smile, but instead desperately make attempts to catch Nanna's gaze. She wouldn't notice at all and continue to nurse the mug. It would be filled with an odd-smelling liquid I know now to be vodka. But that would be the only time she touched it, and I found myself wishing she wouldn't touch it at all.