Obscure Occurrences |C. BAREBONE|

☛ Twenty ☚

• December, 1925 •

Genevieve sat with shaking hands and a cup of strong tea sitting between her palms. All the questions had come at full force with a wave of suppressed panic. Genevieve couldn't lose her mind, not when she had to leave for England soon. The young Burnett was ready to sacrifice everything for her freedom and even this, wouldn't stop her.

"She's going to be fine Genevieve" Victor reassured with a thin-lipped smile. But she could only reply with a curt nod and flicker of her eyes to his ragged face. Now that she saw him, face to face with herself, Genevieve saw the fatigue plaguing her Father's features. His expression was rippled with wrinkled and his moustache held spots of grey amongst the brown. Nothing was as strange as that image.

Nothing had made Genevieve feel worse.

Was she being selfish? Was this wrong of her? Should she just really give it all up?...

She couldn't though. And Genevieve didn't even want to. In seconds she recalled how he snapped at her that morning, how he was forcing her to marry for status and improvement of reputation.

Genevieve was a pawn to this King's chessboard. And she didn't want her life to remain in black and white. Genevieve wanted a journey with no end, a house to call home...

She wanted everything Victor couldn't give her and Hannah had stolen with her death. She wanted it all.

☛✹☚

During the night, Genevieve had pulled the stick from her suitcase and twisted it between her nimble fingers. She trailed the inscriptions that were branded into the Apple wood and was focused on this strand of iridescent light which peeked through the tip of it. Genevieve still had yet to figure out its origin and work out the weird message sent by Vivienne to her Mother. The whole postcard was written in mystery and intrigue. Ultimately, Genevieve couldn't pull herself from her thoughts at this revelation. She still couldn't rid her Father's expression from her memories as she recalled her confession. When she told him of that blast of wind, of how angry she felt, Victor stared down at his daughter with horror masked by shock. It was undiluted and raw. Innate in its presence. The photo of his expression against her closed eyes was something Genevieve never wanted to witness again. Yet, it told her Victor Burnett knew something, and he was doing a great job hiding it before then.

The next morning, the air was swollen with a newness which effected Genevieve greatly. It felt like the sheets she was sleeping under didn't belong to her, the room surrounding wasn't who she was. Genevieve felt different and strange, changed in a way she couldn't understand by herself. But she shrugged it off anyway, she had to focus on her escape.

Well, that was initially the plan. However, a sharp knock interrupted her actions before she could even dress. For some strange reason, as Genevieve approached the door, the closer she got only felt like a downward spiral into chaos. It was Wednesday, Victor should've been at work. Yet that wasn't the case, instead, the middle-aged man was waiting on the other side of the door with a ticket and letter held firmly in his hands. It was from Hannah, addressed to Genevieve. It was for a time like this, Hannah once said she'd seen it. That Genevieve would be a rare, late-bloomer in her arts.

"Come in" he heard immediately from across the door. From there -like his daughter- Victor gulped down the nervous air before entering.

Against the frame of her bed Genevieve rested as her Father approached; fiddling with an envelope as he did so.

"What's wrong Father?" Genevieve proceeded to ask as she suppressed her jitters.

There was no answer from Victor. His face was conformed into an expression of... Genevieve couldn't explain it. His face simply spoke of unsaid words and difficult sentences. After all, he didn't know how to explain such a thing like this.

However, finally he calmed himself and spoke four, life changing words:

"I've lied to you".