Affinity

i.

af·fin·i·ty

əˈfinədē/

noun

a spontaneous or natural liking or sympathy for someone or something.

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12 years later...

Aislyn POV

It's been 12 years since I last saw my mother. Her last words sticking in my head haunting me. I wasn't told of what had happened that night of her disappearance, but all I knew was she left. She left my father and I and never came back to us. I hated her for it but at the same time I missed her presence. I kept her books she left on a shelf and read them daily, for they were my only source of entertainment besides cleaning.

My father struggled and struggled growing older and weaker. He was sad constantly and I didn't blame him. I wish there was something I could've done 12 years ago to stop my mother, but I was only 5. I was close to being 18 and every birthday I've grown used to the feeling of emptiness. Nothing was the same since she's left and I blame her for our broken family.

I swept my long wavy curls behind my ear as I studied my book close to finishing it yet again. Robert Frost and Edgar Allen Poe were one of my favorites as well as Jane Austin. I was reminded by my father about how alike I am to my mother everyday, and I couldn't decide wether that was a compliment or an insult. He would describe her to me explaining every detail about her appearance and personality. I got my bright blue eyes from her as well as my hair and freckles.

My father was out selling his blood yet again slowly just draining himself to put food on the table and I hated the fact that I couldn't help. He refused to let me out of the house or leave to go anywhere. Only on special occasions have I left the house. I miss the outside world even if it was a dark and hideous place. I hated that I didn't have people to socialize with or knew anything about others just only what was in my books.

"Aislyn" I was taken from my thoughts when my father called my name

"Yes father?" I followed the sound of his deep voice

"I have a present for you" he smiled

"You shouldn't have dad! You shouldn't have spent money on me" I protest

"Well consider it a early birthday gift love" he said as he handed over a small book

"Taming of the shrew" I read aloud. He must've spent a good chunk for books were massively expensive especially books as old as this.

"Thank you so much" I gently hug his thin frame

"Anything for you darling, here is some bread and stew for dinner cook it up?"

"Of course you relax"

I took the food from him and walked into the small kitchen. I busied my self by skinning potatoes and singing to myself. I plopped the potatoes into the big pot with the stew and heard a loud crashing sound coming from the living room. I quickly ran out and stood in shock. A man was holding a knife to my fathers throat and cursing him.