Life for Isabelle Green is perfect. Except for whatever it is that lurks in the dark when the lights go out.
~~~
Note: This is NOT a paranormal story. No jump-scares, no purple veiny hands and no skeletal figures. Just a lil thrill and romance~
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"If you fell, which you hopefully don't," I pause, "I'd jump in after you."
Her cheeks aflame, Isabelle turns her face away to look at the sparkling water. "It's beautiful," she mutters. Sometimes I forget she has not had the freedom to go out to the most common places for the simplest of errands, something I have always taken for granted.
I only hum, too embarrassed to comment after my bold declaration. Clearing my throat, I decide to pursue the previously abandoned subject. "If not commerce, what would you have liked to study?"
She doesn't take her eyes off the lake, the little ripples forming and fading like a distant memory. "I have always liked Linguistics," she tells me, "but I never had the time or resources to research on the possibilities. Tara insisted I should apply at universities and even offered to look them up for me, but I do not even have a clue what courses they offer or what subjects you can take up at one. Besides, as things stand, I cannot even attend college anymore, let alone apply at another."
I take in her features, which don't look upset, merely disappointed. I realise with a sigh that she has long given up on her dreams in all the confusion and chaos, too focused on surviving to enjoy the simplicities of life anymore.
"When I was younger," she continues, her voice serene, "I liked to write. My writing was crude and childish," she laughs, "but I didn't care. When I write, I feel free. There is nothing better than the limitless possibilities in the world of fiction, untainted and unrestrained. Literature gives me the sense of freedom I have never had."
I don't interrupt her as she goes on. "I had always wanted to be a writer. I once submitted a short story for the annual Literary Fest at the college and even though I did not win, it caught the eye of a popular publishing house. They wanted to publish it under a compilation of works by amateur writers but-"
I feel my arms tighten around her shoulder when I hear her voice crack. I rub her arm as she takes a deep breath to compose herself. "-but mother said no."
Deep, burning hatred builds up inside me for the woman as I think about what she put Isabelle through. Not only did she restrict her from living her life to the fullest like her peers, she did all she could to stump the poor girl's growth and doom her to a life of servitude and misery. And then she dare threaten Isabelle's life for some stupid inheritance that she never asked to be burdened with.
I bury my face in Isabelle's hair and inhale her calming scent. "Sweetheart?"
"Hmm?"
"Do you still have that story?"
"No," she answers. "But I have learnt it by heart. After all, it was my first recognised work." She flashes me a grin and my anger immediately wanes. Damn this girl and her smiles.
"Will you let me read it?" I ask, rubbing my nose against her smooth cheek, whose temperature instantly increases by a few degrees.
"Why would you want to read something I wrote two years ago?"
