Abigail

T w e l v e

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Ricardo had taken her under his roof and provided her with a comfortable home for the past nine years, and for all those nine years there was never a moment in which she had not been thankful. Sat cross-legged on her bed, the packed bags and suitcase kept distracting her from the short novel she decided to read whilst she waited. It was kind of funny how she was able to pack her whole life in a few bags. Her room was bare, nothing different to the guest's room in the house; frankly, from tomorrow morning onward it wasn't her room anymore.

"Ow." She hissed, the thin page of the book cutting the tip of her finger. Sucking on her hurt finger she placed a bookmark between the pages she failed to read. Unlike the physical pain from her finger, her chest hurt, she rubbed it to try to ease the ache but her bags by the door were actual proof that she was moving out and it was not her imagination playing a very cruel trick on her.

A knock came from her door before it opened and Ricardo entered, a hip flask in hand. As he walked in his foot kicked her suitcase on accident. "I see you've packed." He said gazing at her packed belongings before his eyes wandered the room, not once did his eyes set on her.

She traced the book cover. "I feel like I'm in a bad dream," she spoke softly, quiet enough that Ricardo could just about hear her. She looked around the following where her uncle looked. "I'm still waiting to wake up."

He walked further into the room and stood in front of the balcony doors, looking outside as if appreciating the view like it wasn't a few hours before midnight. An empty silence settled around them.

"You're growing up Abigail." He drank from his flask. Abigail continued to stare at him, Ricardo still yet to look back at her, and waited for him to continue because she needed more than a comment about her maturity. "This is good for you, you need this."

She was in disbelief. "I needed to be forced into a meaningless marriage... to grow? If this was about me growing up I could have done it myself, I can do it myself." She said defending herself, "I don't need to leave, I don't want to."

"You know the reason why Abigail," He sighed taking another sip of his drink, "I'm just trying to bring some light to the situation. Many would be on a bed of nails begging on their hands and knees to be in your position."

Abigail frowned.

"Thinking so negatively won't get you anywhere, think about the good things like what you'll have and who you'll be. What I'm trying to say is that you should at least try and be grateful. I love you, Abigail, I wouldn't do something that I know wouldn't be the best for you."

Her frown deepened. "Do you really love me? Like truly?"

He kissed his teeth and a brow furrowed. "Of course I do, you have asked me a thousand times and each time my answer was always the same."

"But each time it feels like you don't mean it," She took one of her many fur pillows which unfortunately she can't bring with her and hugged it to her chest. Her fingers fiddled with the fur. "You can't even look at me."

Ricardo turned to look at his niece. She swayed her head to the side, she didn't mean it as a way to get his attention. It's not that he didn't want to look at her but he couldn't. He took a few steps toward her, "What are you getting at, Abigail?"

She gave him a small shrug and muttered, "I don't know."

"Look, let's not do this right now, I wanted to say goodbye on a good note so don't ruin this."

Abigail pressed the palms of her hands against her eyes and let out a long sigh to calm her breathing.

"Are you crying again?"