8. The Poor And Rich "Without love, the rich and poor live in the same home."
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LILLY HANSEN KNEW SHE LIVED WITH GRAND LITTLE THINGS. Where most houses stopped at two stories, her's towered them all with four. Delicate gold and China platters perfectly collecting dust in carved wooden shelves. Figurines of angels and Jesus polished and gleaming in the bright light of the sun. A house full of antics and breathtaking views of Coal Creek, where the sun rose and fell, giving the horizon delicate kisses goodnight and good morning. Painting away the dark blues with soft golden rays like the igniting of a perfect flame. Warming the morning and giving an invitation to a new day, a new person.
And yet Lilly felt none of that warmth, shivering at the expose skin of her arms and legs feeling the soft morning breeze weave in between them like a cat rubbing against her. Her wavy golden brown hair was pinned up half way, Sunday dress flowing around her knees. A perfect length for church, the color a warm peach pink with small white flowers creating a pattern. While Lilly wouldn't admit it, but she didn't hate the dress, but didn't love it either. The very idea that her father picked it out ruined any love she had for it, stomping the mud of childhood trauma into it. How many pretty things has he bought her to make up the lack of parenting? The lack of fatherly love and nurturing a child should be given?
Lilly didn't have time to dwindled on those thoughts for the devil himself found himself standing before her. Her father, a face of worn handsomeness and a twinkle of insanity in those pale blue eyes. Eyes matching the suit he wore, ironic. His way of showing the world his selfishness, the deepness his self love goes. For he will loves no one more than himself.
His calloused hands pat her shoulders, that manipulative smile showing his perfectly white teeth. "Beautiful and innocent, like a little dove my Lilly."
Lilly had to hold back her tongue from slipping that his little girl was a whore for toxic men.
"Ain't she pretty darling?" Her father glances over his shoulder to his new wife, a perfect wife in the eyes of the Lord. A woman who never touched a man other than Lilly's father, never talked back, always cleaning and cooking. The perfect house wife her father was trying to morph Lilly into.
Her step mother stepped forward, a delicate smile puffing out her chubby rose cheeks. "Oh she is just the prettiest girl in this town."
Lilly forces her lips to part and form a blushing smile. "Thank you."
Her father lightly pats the girls shoulders, letting out a sigh. "Now come now my pretty girls. My day is finally here and we got lots of folks to meet."
"You meetin' anyone from school there Lils?" Her step mother asks politely, wrapping her small body in a thick tan jacket. A woman barely in twenties while her father was in his mid thirties.
Lilly was used to such weird and perverted ways her father was, how he stared a little too closely to girls her own age in town strolling down the street. How his hands liked to wander a little too low on Lilly's back when he gave her a hug. Hugs that became more frequent when she entered highshcool. But she never questioned such affections, because every father likes to show their love for their little girl. Some more than others and some little than others. All it was was her daddy showing her how much he loves her.
