Total pages in book: 45
Estimated words: 44645 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 223(@200wpm)___ 179(@250wpm)___ 149(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 44645 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 223(@200wpm)___ 179(@250wpm)___ 149(@300wpm)
A Sudden Goodbye
Belle
Eggs sizzle over the fire in the morning, their sound still far louder than the ongoing whispers between Izzie and Father.
The only sentences I’ve managed to catch so far are, “I’ll need to leave for the fair soon,” “You’ll need to stand watch,” and “Suitor Season still holds potential for you.”
I’ve lost all interest in straining to hear the rest. Instead, I focus my gaze on the view outside the window, watching the trees in the woods sway in the wind.
While I’m dreaming about spending a day under their canopies, their branches suddenly stretch toward the sun in unison, shooting thousands of pine needles into the sky.
They swirl and swarm under the clouds, spelling out two words.
Run, Belle.
I blink a few times. Run from what?
Run NOW.
A second message forms before the needles fall away, and the trees return to their stiff positions.
I scratch my head and pull the drapes shut.
Scooping fried yolks onto plates, I set them on the table and wait to hear the list of chores I’ll have the joy of completing today.
“And you’ll follow that, understood?” Father says to Izzie before looking at me. “Belle, I’m stopping by a cleaning shop on my trip. I can’t find your locket.”
“It’s in my room.”
“Then make haste and bring it to me if you’d like it shined.”
“I would.” I rush to my room and slide a hand under my bed. Struggling to reach it, I lie on my stomach and spot Gabriel’s rose.
It hasn’t wilted in the slightest.
Still very much alive, it’s spinning around in a slow circle, glowing bright red. And somehow, the bloom has grown two sizes larger since he left.
What the…
Confused, I remove the glass and tug at one of its petals. I try to tear it away, to see how this is even possible, but its stem suddenly recoils. Then it stabs my pinky finger with its thorn.
“Ouch!” I trap it once more, kissing my wound while it returns to form.
I’ll deal with you later.
“Hurry up, Belle!” My father calls.
“Coming!” I find my trinket box and pull out my locket before returning upstairs.
“Thank you.” Father snatches it from me before I can hand it to him. “This should fetch a good price.”
“What?” I reach for it, and he holds it up high. “I thought you were simply getting it shined.”
“Oh, please.” He rolls his eyes. “I should’ve taken this from you years ago.”
“Mother gifted that to me!” I say. “Give it back right now or else.”
“Or else?” He raises his eyebrow. “Or else what, Belle?”
“Give me back my goddamn locket.” I clench my fists at my side. “It’s not yours to sell.”
“It is when we need the money.” He opens the clasp and tears out the painted picture of Mother holding me in her arms. “You can have this, though. I doubt any dealer will see value in it.”
My heart falls to the floor with the photo, and I feel the sudden urge to pull out my dagger and stab him in the neck. To watch him bleed helplessly until he can no longer breathe.
As if Izzie can sense that I’m tempted to kill him, she steps in front of me.
“I hope you have a good trip,” she says. “I believe you have a solid plan.”
“I believe so, too, Izzie.” He tucks my locket into his satchel and walks over to the eggs I’ve prepared. He devours them in one bite, completely unfazed that he’s wounded me in the worst way.
For the very last time…
Tears well in my eyes, but I take a deep breath to prevent them from falling.
“When I return,” he says, heading toward the door, “I better hear that you minded your manners and stayed out of trouble, Belle.”
When you return, I won’t fucking be here. “You will, sir.”
He embraces Izzie in a long hug, muttering, “I love you so much. Be safe and take care of yourself,” and then he leaves without saying anything else.
An Unwanted Return
Belle
For the next several days, our house holds no warmth, no light.
Whenever I attempt to start a fire, Izzie snatches the firewood from my hands and clucks her tongue.
“We can’t.” She insists. “No one can know we’re here.”
Too angry to ask why, I’ve spent most of my time in the basement, using Gabriel’s bloom as a light so I can read.
Somehow, it can sense when I need it to glow brighter and when I don’t need its help at all. And today, I discovered that it can hear and understand me.
When I said, “I wish Father had taken you to sell instead of my locket,” it sunk its thorns deep into my palm, drawing blood until I apologized. And when I said, “I’m sorry,” it pressed a petal against my skin to clot the drops.
After reading one more chapter, I thank it for the light and return it to the jar.