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Good Days - 7

Annabelle's POV

It can be very frustrating to be locked up in this room all day while Jace goes off and does who knows what.

When I lived on the farm with my family, at least I had free run of the place. Although I had to work on the farm, helping tend to the crops (we mostly grew corn), everything always went very smoothly.

Magic can do wonders when used properly.

My mother would always spend nights going over the perfect recipe to mix in with whichever seeds we were using at the time, to make sure the crop was plentiful and grew well whether it was a rainy year or a dry one. Although magic can only go so far, so it was up to everyone to pitch in to help tend to the crop.

Being a witch isn't how some humans used to imagine it during the time in history where they no longer believed magic could exist. During that time where everything got so bleak that anything humans couldn't see before their eyes couldn't possibly be true.

Being a witch requires practice and proper spells that work with nature to provide the answers. This type of magic doesn't create, it manipulates. It's pure, and although complicated, usually ends up with a simple result.

There is darker magic though, magic that does create, but it something that not only witches will talk about in their own homes, and being from a small community I never learned about that kind of darkness. Until King Ezekiel had declared war and my brother Kyle was drafted, I hadn't known any kind of darkness.

I had been adopted into the witch community since I was very young, so all I ever knew was warmth and love from those who weren't even my own kind.

It is almost a blessing that they were my family when the new laws came into place. If I had not already lived with a witch family, who knows what could have happened to me. Many werewolves and shifters were enslaved by cruel families, and cruel masters, who would lIttarly work them to death, or so I've heard. 

This is what I have been doing for the past few days, sitting here and thinking, reliving memories. I cried a lot the first three weeks, but these last two weeks I feel like I'm all cried out.

I miss my family and I miss my home but after a while it gets almost harder to grieve than it does to just not feel.

I've even gotten tired of the Disney movies. I've watched all of them now, and while I have my favourites that I feel I could watch over and over, my head to starts hurt and my eyes start to burn the more I stare at the TV.

So I've just been sitting and thinking. While I've been sitting here, thinking, the one question that has come to me more than any other is why Jace ever wanted a 'pet' shifter anyhow. He has barely spent any time with me and sometimes he's even gone for days. When he is home, and in his bedroom it is basically just to sleep.

He seems happiest when I am in my cat form because he enjoys stroking my back and rubbing his fingers through my soft fur. I honestly just believe he would've been way happier to have just gotten a cat.

It had been just over a month since I had been here and except for the first horrible week and a bit, everything had just been dull. Although, from what I had seen of the news a couple weeks ago, I was lucky. I got fed 3 times a day, more than I had been fed in years, I had clothes on my back and a place to sleep.

After the first week, the maid, who I've learned by now is named a witch named Jane, brought me a few bags of clothing which mostly consisted of the comfiest black leggings and the softest sweaters I had ever worn. There were also comfy socks and a few plain silky soft t-shirts. Luckily there was also a few bandeaus and pairs of underwear. It was the comfiest wardrobe I would ever imagine anyone having. Though it sort of proved that, at least for the time being, I was going to be kept inside.

Jace and I had barely talked in the past 3 weeks as well. He would sometimes ask me if I had enjoyed my food, or would talk quietly to himself about work he had to complete. Although he wasn't really talking to me during those times, it was sometimes nice to just listen.

He seemed to be getting more and more stressed as the days went on though, and it was starting to get me nervous.

I try to be invisible as possible when he enters the room because the last thing I would want to do would be to get on this last nerve. Though I think he can tell that I am still nervous around him and I think that annoys him as well. When he sees me cower, he scrunches his eyebrows and sighs. So I have been trying to be as inconspicuous as possible.

Sometimes I wish he would actually tell me about his day, or just have a conversation with me. It hurts feeling like you're no more important than a piece of furniture.

From what I've heard from Jane the maid, the prince doesn't seem to spend much time with anyone happily. He's been getting worse and worse with people over the past few years and doesn't seem to enjoy being around any of his old friends. This is why people worry he's going to turn out just like his father.

Although that scares me, that sounds like a pretty lonely way to live. Which is why I wish he would just talk to me at least. Cause I'm pretty lonely too.

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Photo: Jane

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EDITED

Sorry this chapter is more just getting into to Annabelles head a little more. Hopefully gives a little more context.

Let me know what you think! Next chapter's going to be exciting!

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K :)