Separate But Not Equal

Chapter XXII

I've already started writing like most of next chapter so I'm pretty sure that the next chapter will be out tomorrow.

I know my writing schedule has been really messed up and that is mainly because I've been so busy with exams but I promise I'm going back to my old times of updating every 2 or 3 days.

And I'm going to stick with that, while also trying to not make my chapters sound rushed so...

If it's been at least 3 days and I haven't updated just spam me.

I watch Papa promptly finish the strange conversation with the officers and grudge his way towards me.

I raise my eyebrow noticing how the conversation mostly consisted of the officers basically interrogating him.

All they did was ask him suspiciously detailed questions about his personal life and indirectly restrain him from leaving.

I stare at him, sadly trying to wipe away the tears from previously while also trying to convince Acacia that her parents will be coming soon.

"Papa?" I force a week smile getting to my feet as the officers open the cell door.

"Hey, Ivy," he pronounces thoroughly as though he thinks that I don't understand him anymore.

I jump up hugging him tightly, feeling happy and more at home with the natural scent of roses wafting from Papa's shirt.

"You smell like flowers," I state with a muffled voice.

I love flowers.

Flowers remind me of home.

Home before Mama died.

Home before Rose died.

It was like an orchard of flowers, with each family member having a completely different type of floral scent.

I remember Mama's scent completely.

It was a strong, sweet fragrance of buttercup with a bit of vanilla and it was surprisingly addictive.

"So do you," papa chuckles loudly.

Papa stops laughing randomly looking down at me with a saddening emotion on his face.

This sort of expression in between disappointment and sympathy.

"What happened, Ivy?"

"I- I don't know Papa, we were mar- we were outside near the school and they just said they had to arrest us," I lie, avoiding obvious eye contact.

Papa looks unsure at first, but ends up giving me a nod of reassurance and tries to help me off the floor.

Key word - tries.

Because the minute his hand makes slight contact with the side of my waist I hiss and jump in surprise and pain, squeezing my eyes for a few seconds and breathing noticeably louder and slower than previously.

"What's wrong? Did I do something?" He stares down at me, putting his hands up in the air and taking a couple steps back.

I suddenly snap back to reality, remembering the main cause of the damage and why I need to be less clumsy and keep my mouth shut.

"No, no. It's my muscles, they're just a bit week. I've not moved for a while. That's all."

I feel the unexpected heat and slight contact of someone else next to me, only to find out that Papa decided to stop helping me up and just to sit down himself.

"Ivy?"

"Hmmm?"

"Ever since you were little, I've noticed that whenever you are completely lying to me... you always try your hardest not to look me in the eye," he scoffs.