The Willow Tree

Chapter 8

Hey guys! I hope you like this new chapter, sorry it took me so long to write. Please know that I have a life other than just posting new chapters for you to read. I got some pretty mean messages that told me how I promised that I would write every weekend and I don't. While I appreciate that you all want to read my story and want more chapters please keep in mind, that I have a life outside of writing, and I although I may want to, I can't just sit at my computer and write all day. Please don't bug me for more chapters. I write as often as I can and I have to work really hard for each chapter. 

Although you might read one of my chapters in five minutes, I have to start by having an idea for the chapter, then I have to write an outline, then I have to type it up. Depending on the complexity of a chapter it can take me between one to five hours to write ONE chapter. Please keep this in mind when you read my story. 

Please note, constructive criticism is welcomed, but comments that just tell me to write faster are NOT appreciated. Thanks! Please vote and comment. Onto the story...

I sit up in the bed that has lately begun to be my prison. I don't know how many days I've spent here but it's been too long. I slowly stand up, expecting pain but my arm is getting better so I can stand and walk at this point. I walk to the door and open it slowly, it creaks slightly and I stay still for a moment, hoping that no one heard. When a few seconds pass and there is still silence, I sneak out the door and leave the house entirely. I walk into the cold air and start the ten-minute walk to my house. The cold air bites my arms and stings my nose but I don't turn back. I finish my walk and open the door to the house. I expect to see Willow because she got fired from the knitting factory but she isn't here. I lay down on my bed and think. 

Hours later Willow comes home, her hands are bleeding but she doesn't pay them any mind. She rushes over to me,

"What are you doing here? You're meant to be at with Mrs. Scott," she says scoldingly.

"I just needed some fresh air," I reply.

Hoping to change the subject, I say, "What's wrong with your hands?"

"Oh, never mind that," she says quickly, brushing the topic off, "Does Mrs. Scott know you left?"

"no," I say shamefully.

She is acting a lot like a mother and that thought saddens me. 

She gives me a scornful look and leads me out the door. 

"What is wrong with your hands Willow?" I ask after a moment of silence

There is a beat.

"Willow," I say, "I'm your older brother, you have to tell me."

"I got a job at the textile industry. How do you think we've been getting any money?" She says, almost snarkily.

"Hey, don't give me that tone. I didn't know the textile industry let women work there. Do they?"

"Yeah."

We walk the rest of the walk in silence. 

When we reach the Scott house Mrs. Scott scolds both of us. 

"You gave me quite a fright, you know that right? I didn't know where you had wandered off to. I was worried sick you know."

"Sorry," I say, feeling much younger than I am.

"You can go home now," Mrs. Scott says, "I'll bring over food later."

Willow starts, "You don't have to-" 

"Yes, I do have to bring food." Mrs. Scott says cutting Willow off.

"Thank you," I say respectfully.