YOUR DAISY

Chapter 13

one thing before you start: bring a bible lmao

When she saw him for the first time after six years, her Father was unrecognizable; from his wrinkled forehead and weary, apathetic blue eyes, to his thin, cracked lips and grey tousled short hair. Sister Catherine had led her to the large hall where students met their visitors; a place she's never visited until now. The ceiling was high and decorated with rib vaults. Inside the room, square tables stood ominously in the middle of it. In one of them, Taylor's Father sat quietly, his back hunched and his hands joined. Flanked by a young nun, he looked up just as Taylor and sister Catherine approached him. His features immediately lit up with an emotion she's never seen on his face; happiness.

"Oh, thank God, Taylor, you're here," he said, getting up so as to hug his daughter. The blonde stiffened, but fortunately the sister standing beside him stopped him.

"Sir, you shall not have any physical contact with the student," she warned him. Sister Catherine informed her she could go, that she would take care of the situation, and Taylor watched her go before the nun beside her urged her to take a seat across her Father. The blonde gingerly and unwillingly sat down on the wooden chair, not meeting the man's eager stare.

"I will be a few feet away, if you need me," the nun stated, finally walking away from them and leaving them alone. Taylor felt her heart rate quicken when glancing briefly at the man she used to proudly call her father.

"What are you doing here?" she didn't mean to sound so rude, but her voice came out rather harsh and curt. She saw him shift nervously, pulling at the roots of his hair as he sighed desperately.

"I wanted to see you."

"After you've left me waiting for six years?"

She swallowed thickly, starting to get annoyed and angry at her Father. She didn't want to be here, sitting in front of him and hear his poor excuse of an apology. Taylor wanted to be elsewhere, possibly in a place where Karlie was, where the taller girl could console her like nobody could.

"I'm sorry,"

"I don't want to hear it,"

"You must treat me with respect. I'm still your Father," he tried to sound mad, his voice trembling slightly.

"You were," Taylor objected, sounding mildly sad as she lowered her head. "Now, not anymore," she added in a whisper.

"I'm sorry," he repeated, but before the blonde could open her mouth, he continued, "I wanted you to know how deeply sorry I truly am. In a year and a half you'll set off to a monastery, and I'll never see you again. Therefore I wanted to apologize; it's not your fault if your Mother died. It's not your fault if she got terribly sick. It's not your fault, and I'm sorry if I made you believe that it was,"

Taylor gritted her teeth and clenched her jaw, surprised to find herself getting emotional over his words. She averted her eyes, not wanting to show him how much his apologies have affected her as he studied her delicate profile. The blonde kept quiet, stubborn; she didn't want to forgive him so easily, not when he had spent years and years blaming her for his wife's death.

"You look so much like her," he affirmed quietly, a melancholic smile gracing his old features. She turned and met his sad gaze, showing him how much emotions were swirling within her blue eyes. "You have her nose, her blonde hair, and her beautiful blue eyes," he kept on saying. "I'm sure you are as kind and sweet as she was,"

Her mouth shut, she let a single tear slide down her pink cheek. Taylor noticed his hesitation; he obviously had wanted to reach out, but the nun's warning had probably echoed around his mind. They looked at each other, the man probably wanting to hear that he's been forgiven. Taylor, on the other hand, was struggling; he had put her through so much when she was just a young girl. He had blamed her for something that was simply out of her control, and six years ago, the night before he had brought her here and decided what her future would look like, he had told her he hated her. His voice had been so cruel, so low that at the time, she had felt shivers run down her spine. And Taylor had believed him, then. He hated her, and because of the blonde his wife was long gone. Father had never told her exactly why her mother had suddenly vanished into thin air, because whenever she asked this simple question, she would get a glare from him, followed by screaming and a slap on her cheek. But now, six years later, she wanted to know. The curiosity was just too much, and the last time she had asked about her mother she was twelve years old, and young, and innocent. Now, she was nineteen years old, she has grown up, and above all she was mature.