Chapter Two-Violet
Charles wasn't back two weeks later. Or the week after that.
Though Daisy didn't care much for her father, it wasn't like she wanted something bad to happen to him. He was still her father, after all, and he did still give her a roof to live under.
The twins were getting anxious and agitated.
"Where's father?" Dahlia asked once. "I want my pony. And my jewelry!"
"Me too. Daddy promised!" Calla had chimed in.
Violet had resisted the urge to click her tongue at them in disdain. All they cared about in their father were that he be fine and safe and back to give them the things they wanted.
Another week passed. And another.
The sisters were getting harder and harder to deal with now. They complained about the things she did, mocked her even when she tried her hardest to please them, and refused almost anything she did or made for them, even if it was them who requested it in the first place.
"I want daddy back!" Calla often cried.
"Me too," Dahlia would say.
More days passed. There was still no sign of him.
The seasons changed. Autumn passed into winter. It was getting colder outside.
Violet, of course, got the twins' old coats. She didn't mind, though. They were still of good quality. At least, that's what she thought.
Now, Violet shrugged on a coat, basket on her arm. She was to go to the market this morning to stock up on food, as they were running a little low.
She opened the door. A blast of frigid air hit her, and goosebumps rose on her skin. She pulled her coat a little tighter around herself.
"Violet! Make sure to buy some of my favorite candy apples!" Calla called.
"And my favorite croissants!" Dahlia screeched.
"I—I will," Violet sighed.
She shut the door behind her, and then stepped out.
~~~
Violet kept her head down as she walked past the neat rows of houses.
Please, please, please, don't notice me, she thought to herself.
It seemed as if that were to happen, until when she passed by one of the neat, small little, yellow-bricked houses, a door opened, and a voice called out.
"Violet! What a pleasant surprise!"
She quickened her pace, pretending as if she hadn't heard the voice.
"Hey! Violet! I'm talking to you!" The voice was impossibly loud now, echoing down the street. It was impossible to ignore it now. If she did, that would only be rude, and then, well, if that happened, the owner of the voice would surely make her life horrible—
"H—hello, Ned," she said, forcing a smile and spinning around.
At twenty, he was a lean, gangly man. He wasn't the most popular of men, but he wasn't the least liked, either. Every now and then when he went out, girls would cluster near him, hoping he'd notice them.
Violet hoped the opposite. She didn't know why Ned seemed to like her so much.
He called her pretty a lot of the time.
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Survival (May undergo editing)
Fantasy"You are my prisoner. If you wish for freedom, you will have to earn it yourself. But remember this: If you ever leave, you won't leave as the same person you were when you arrived." ~~~ Violet has always been the unwanted daughter in the Laurier Fa...
