The Angel

Chapter 2

She pushed open the solid wood, kitchen door, hoping no one was inside. It creaked as she slowly moved inside.

She looked around then walked into the doorway when she saw no one was around.

She made her way into the hallway lined with paintings of her ancestors. She reached the foyer where she proceeded to climb the stairs. Her heels cracked against the floor as she took each step.

" Vi. Where have you been? " Her father's commanding voice stopped her just before she reached the top step. She cringed at his voice.

She turned around and curtesied politely, "Evening. I went for a walk."

"Without a single soul to accompany you? Do you know what could have happened to you! They could have taken you! You have to be sensible!" He scolded her adamantly and frequently. He was a large man, big and burly. He was intimidating and was very strong.

In the midst of his ramblings she silently said, "I was not alone." She thought of the red headed man and smiled. He was so strange.

She waited for him to finish and send her away.

"Why is your dress wet?!" He shouted angrily.

"I tripped and landed in a puddle." She lied to him.

"Go to your room." He challenged her with his eyes. She had been restraining herself lately and he had made it harder than it had to be.

She nodded and excused herself. She dared not forget her manners even if he did. His punishments were always inflicted harshly. She had the scar that tore along her back from the time she swam across the river to pick flowers. She hadn't known of the two family's hatred for one another then. She had not guessed it would cause her so much pain for simple yellow flowers.

She had several other tiny scars on her arms from other lashing with a switch. She was not a rebellious child just overly curious, like any other typical child. She had thought that she was the person in the wrong when she was young, now she knew her father was overly harsh. He was raised that way. He could not help it. She did not blame him for his cold-heartedness.

Had her mother still been alive it might be different.

She closed her room door behind her and leaned against it. She listened as her father closed his study's door.

She swiped a tear from her cheek. She would not feel pity for herself. She knew people had it far worse than she did.

She thought of her mother. A loving soul, sweet but strong.

A terrible fever had taken her away from this world. Vi's heart had never recovered.

She walked over to her window that faced the garden and brushed back the curtains. She looked down at the workers plucking fruit and vegetables from the vines and trees. They may have no status and hardly any money but at least they were free.

Vi did not care for fancy items. She wanted companionship, adventure, and love.

Her father would keep her here as long as he wanted. He would keep her as close as he wanted and if she disobeyed there would be a great deal to pay. She knew the cost of a rebellious child.

"A thankful prisoner." She said against the glass.

----

He sat at the desk in his study. His hands waded up in his hair.

Dinner had been a blur. He had been completely unfocused as his father babbled on about their newest territory lines.

His mother had informed him of the several maidens that asked about him daily. He paid no mind to them, they only cared for his money and status. They had no desire to know the real person underneath.

He stared at the sketch in front of him. A blank canvas sat on the easel behind him.

Painting was his passion.

His paints were set all around his study. The bookshelves were covered with white sheets to avoid any stray paint drops.

He stood up and moved to the couch. He wouldn't be able to rest until he painted her, the Angel.

He stood and rolled up his sleeves.

He grabbed a small, clean brush and began painting.

He started with her surroundings. The trees, the water, the rocks, he painted everything. He painted the blue sky and the sunlight that streamed through the leaves. He painted the small purple flowers the grew in bundles along the rivers edge. He painted the bark of the trees and the green leaves.

He moved on to painting her. He painted her long hair. He painted her figure and how her white gown gathered just above her knee in one arm. He painted her hand grazing the water and the ripples that she caused. He painted the crown of flowers on her head, the small pink blossoms, and the green leaves that escaped and found a home in her hair.

He stepped back and tried to picture her features. Her blue eyes and petite nose, but he could not put it together in his mind. Her face was a blur. It had all happened so quickly. He hadn't been able to study her features.

He tossed the brush across the floor. It bounced along the surface and came to rest against his desk.

How could he forget the most important part!?

He was agitated with himself.

He decided that he would have to go back to the riverside and see her again. If she didn't show he would come back every day until he saw her. He had to finish this painting. He would not be able to relax until he did.

He flopped back down on the couch. His hair was disheveled mess, his shirt was halfway untucked, his sleeves were already stained with a multitude of colors.

He hoped she would be there tomorrow if not he would have a long time ahead of him.

He looked back at his faceless Angel.

----

The Angel's name is Vi. :)
Cute or nah?
So Vi's family is really well off. They own businesses and manage trade. The picture is what I'd imagine she'd live in. A castle or a manor.
Wattpad decided to completely delete this chapter. :( So I had to rewrite it. Sadly it's not as good as the first time I wrote it.
UGH. THE STRUGGLE YO.
Sawyer :p