Captured Grace

Chapter {3} - C o n c e a l e d

Seeping through the windows, the broad daylight reflected against the surface of my eyelids. My eyes fluttered open gracefully, absorbing the battered room surrounding me and the failing wallpaper, peeling from the wall, as it hung on desperately. I flung the ragged quilt from my scrawny body, sitting upright on the edge of the bed. My feet did not touch the ground, I was fairly small for eighteen, only just reaching Elowen's chin. Though Elowen, being twenty, was quite a decent height; meanwhile Sybella, twenty-two, was almost the height of our father.

I'd have been mistaken as sixteen if it weren't for my fuller breasts and my somewhat alluring features cracking through the imperfections of my body, my scrawny and frail legs, extremely petite waist and dashing cheek bones due to our deficiency. Elowen was slightly curvier, an hourglass appear, a more gorged figure compared. Sybella was on the brim of skinny and curvy, anybody would say she was just right. She was often the centre of attention, the figure that caught lustful eyes wherever she went.  It was clear Elowen sometimes grew jealous of the constant turning of eyes that lurked upon Sybella, she craved the spotlight and was more than willing to gain what Sybella was gifted with. 

After perching on the edge of my bed cross-legged for quite some time, I wholly awoke. My vivid, gleaming icy blue eyes scattered across the room as I threw on my pants, the same tattered khaki trousers as the day before. I grasped the bow and arrows in my palm and sheathed it upon my back, fingernails still dyed with the remains of the hare's blood combined with the Thyral's, I continue on to the staircase, hurriedly rushing down them as I buttoned up my pants.

There, Elowen sat in an exquisite posture by the dining table where the hare sat. Or rather, the remaining chunks of the hare. She seemed to observe Sybella from the corner of her eye, where she obliged our father into his worn-out armchair, croaking as he at last sat down, while murmuring in a gentle tone to him. She appeared to be conveying a story, the same story he makes her repeat everyday. The one about how she fell deeply for the bartender, who was now her fiancé. Of course, she made sure to include all of the affectionate promises he proclaims to her about how they would live and thrive in happiness for eternity, together. Possessing the village tavern, together. Staying forevermore and creating a family, together.

I couldn't help but avert my gaze as the word persistently rung through my ears, resulting in my eyes burning and pricking with emotion. Sybella was so content, never mind the state she endures and resides in, she somehow manages to transfer it around to a positive manner. One of the many reasons she's mostly adored, especially by our father. Sybella turned on her heel after assisting our father, cleared her throat, and coughed quite vigorously until she spoke in a hoarse tone,

"Emarie, how many times do I have to tell you not to leave your little play-dates on the dining table. The blood soaks through the sack and into the wood!"

Her rasping voice raised as her finger jabbed the oak wood of the table, causing it to quiver slightly. Indeed, her finger directed at a circular pool of blood presented on the surface, saturated through the cracks of the wood. I merely huffed and rubbed my temple, before grasping the sack with ease and tossing it into the sink. I quickly darted a glance towards my father, who remained mute. Soon, he noticed my gaze and forcefully provoked a faint smile. His fragile, weak posture sat up in the large armchair, his ankles crossed and his arms positioned on the arm-rests.

"I was considering rabbit stew, father. Would you like some? It'd be nice if you tried something other than oats.."

I shot a glare at his utterly thin anatomy, endeavouring him to make an attempt in order to succour his health. His lips pressed together noticeably, possibly in thought of the suggestion. His weakening eyes trailed up to meet mine, his lips parting as his voice trembled,