I head back inside and into the dining room. I sink into a chair and slump over the table, holding my head up with one hand and grabbing a cup of ca phe sua da with the other. I grip the cup tightly, my hands trembling as I draw in a shaky breath, attempting to steady myself. I take a sip, hoping that it will dissolve the lump building at the back of my throat. I stretch my legs and end up kicking something under the table. I reach underneath and pull it out, only to see that Sam left his bag.
"He'd forget his head if it wasn't on his shoulders..." I mutter as I get up and sling it over my shoulder, taking my drink and the book I brought down earlier with me as I head to my room. I take sips of my drink as I walk, looking at the portraits and paintings hanging on the walls as I go. I stop at one of the paintings of what must have been one of their parties and see that Genevieve is at the centre, the shining star of the party, the belle of the ball. All attention was on her in a beautiful green dress. You could tell that just by looking at her, she commanded the attention of everyone in the room. Her hair was gathered atop her head in a messy yet graceful bun with small tendrils of hair escaping and framing her face. Her strapless green dress had what seemed to be a sweetheart neckline and was cinched in at the waist and then blossomed out at the hips. The long sleeves were made of a light, flowing fabric and the intricate gold, silver and black floral pattern on the bodice is simply gorgeous. The dress was obviously made just for her and everything was done by hand.
"She's beautiful..." I mutter and tear my eyes away from the painting and walk into my room. I drop Sam's bag next to mine and flop onto the bed, sighing as my muscles start to relax and the tension seeps out of my body. I grab my phone and text Sam to tell him that he left his bag and ask him if he wants me to bring it with me to lunch, then I put it on the bedside table and lay on the bed for a while, looking at the ceiling, thinking about nothing. After 10 minutes of this, I decide to try and make the room a little more like my own. I sit up and start putting my pictures out on the vanity and bedside table. I put my favourite one of Sam and I next to my bed beside the last picture I took with my dad. I smile, thinking about how much they would've gotten along.
"If only you could've met Sammy, Dad," I sigh. "If only you were here for a lot of things..." I clear my throat to get rid of the lump that is forming once again and head outside. As I walk outside into the sunshine, I can appreciate the landscape more. The grass is vibrant green, wild flowers blossom all over the grounds and trees grow higher than any I've seen anywhere in town. This place seems so magical, so untainted, untouched by time. It's as if there was never anyone here to disturb the peace and tranquillity of the area. I should be happy, at peace, yet I have the deep sorrow which is ever present in my heart rising to the surface. As I sit under a tree, I'm reminded of the day I met Sam. Of the day he saved me.
**********Flashback**********
It's a cold wet Sunday morning and I was huddled up against an old tree in the town square, crying and shivering in a pair of leggings and a t shirt. No one walked past and even if they had, I wouldn't have seen as I had hidden my face in my hands as the tears streamed down my face. Mom had been having one of her worst days yet and I just couldn't handle it anymore so I ran out of the house. I didn't even look back. She had been shouting at me again, saying that if I hadn't been born, her life would have been so much easier, that Dad would still be alive, that she would be happier. I felt so alone. There's no one I could talk to. My friends in school drifted away, as if my grief and loss were contagious, like if they hung out with me, they'd end up having no dad either. Grandma was in hospital and they wouldn't let me see her without Mom being there. I had no one to turn to. Mom hadn't been the same since Dad died, saying things I never would have imagined she would say, blaming me for Dad's death. I put my head in my hands and cry, the sobs racked through my body. The next thing I know, I felt a warm jacket being draped over my shoulders. I looked up to see a tall, lean blonde kid with green eyes. His hair flopped into his eyes as he sat next to me and I brushed it out of his eyes.
YOU ARE READING
The Battle of Goodwin's Grave
FantasyRuby is a young witch, forced to leave home after enduring 11 years of her mother's hatred after the tragic death of her father on her 7th birthday. Ruby runs away to the old abandoned castle, Goodwin's Grave, in order to escape her mother and harne...