The Insanity of a Wallflower

Strength XXXIII

Drawing above is another one of mine that I drew.  Since you guys liked the last one so much I thought I'd share this one too.

A/N:

I wrote this smaller chapter, debating if I should just wait to use it as part of the next chapter or not. But the next chapter is going to be a larger one with a lot going on, so I decided to upload this separately and give you guys something to hold you over until the next debut.

Enjoy!

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The door was cold, the hallway long. I titled my head unsure, wondering in unease at the silence. The grey morning air illuminated the nothingness before me.

"Momma?" My voice broke in its plea. There was no answer. I glanced back nervously to my bedroom, to the small spot beneath the bed frame where I had been hiding. The floor there was empty and could easily be seen from lowering yourself to my height. But what no one knew was the little nook that rose above it; the box frame creating a hollow ceiling a small body could balance itself into. I made a false bottom of cardboard there last year.

The unsteadiness of the silence seemed to stab through my skin again. The soft pink pajamas on my body cooled to the air around and licked my skin every move I made.

"Mommy?" I whispered again, desperately trying to throw my voice down the hallway without being too loud.  Still no answer. I ground my jaw in fear, my eyes beginning to water.

Slowly I began stepping down the hallway, my eyes glancing left and right as I searched for any sign of movement. I crept to the stairs and leaned my head out, blue gaze sweeping as much as the downstairs as I could see. I held the railing tightly as I leaned further out; straining my shoulder joints to keep myself from falling forward. But the sweat that dampened my hand became too much; in a painfully fast movement my grasp broke free and I tumbled forward. Hard hands caught me.

"Alys."

I whimpered and straightened in those hands, facing my father.

"Dad, I.... I was just... it was morning."

He stared at me quietly, letting my sputtering voice break through the air. My words began to dwindle as I realized he wasn't even listening to me.

"You look so much like your mother."

Water rose to my eyes. "I can cut my hair then?" A small smile tried to break through my tremoring lips, "Wouldn't that be fun? I can pretend to be your little prince instead of princess."

"My little princess." he whispered back.  Something else was gazing at me with his eyes. Always that something darker.

"I'll make you pancakes." He said suddenly and let go of me, walking towards the kitchen.

I stood there shaking. I couldn't move. I saw his steps slow suddenly, realization I had yet to follow- and like a whip to my back I ran forward and eagerly awaited him in the kitchen.

"Where's momma?"  I asked quietly, "Should I wake her to make the breakfast? She always cooks, I mean."

My father looked at me suddenly, his jaw tight and eyes bright. "So I can't make you breakfast? Is that it? You don't want what I do for you?"

"No!" I almost yelled back, "No I do, dad! Thank you for doing this, dad." tears slid down my face. "...I love you dad."

"Love?" he said softly, like the word baffled or intrigued him. "Love..." he said again, the word seeming to taste bitter against his tongue.  Suddenly his arm shot out and shattered the utensil holder off the counter. I ground my fingers in my side. Don't run, don't run, don't run.