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I’m alone in my room for hours. No one checks up on me, and they don’t realize a thing is wrong with me. They don’t realize I’m throwing clothes for weeks in my suitcase, they don’t realize I’m bringing my charger, and they don’t realize I’m messaging a friend they’ve never met nor heard of.
I spend the night with that friend, talking to her about my issues. Thankfully she has a well-connected family too and they end up helping me get a job that will sign for my visa. They never once tell my parents where I am. I’ve never been able to contact my friend or her family afterward, but I hope they know how grateful I am.
Walking into the airport is both terrifying and exhilarating. Knowing I am leaving the country I’ve grown up in and love so much as a whole is enough to make me quake. But knowing I’ll be free from my father’s reign of terror is enough for me to take a deep breath and step over that barrier keeping me from my new life. I am prepared, I have a job waiting for me, I have a small studio apartment already with my name on the lease, and I am on my way to getting my visa thanks to my work.
I can focus on my art, my sketches and paintings. I need this change, and so I only allow myself to look back once to say goodbye to the country and not the people I am leaving behind. I leave with a light heart and a clear head. This is what I’m supposed to do.
CHAPTER 15
ADRIAN
“You fought over art school?” I ask, after the retelling of the night Amelia left.
She blinks, seeming surprised that that’s my first question. “Yes.”
“Seems like a ridiculous thing to fight over,” I murmur. “There is no reason for you not to be allowed to go to art school. There are plenty with big names and lots of people do well.”
She smiles weakly, but I’m completely serious. Though I haven’t seen her art, I believe she should have had the right at eighteen to decide her own path. But that’s not exactly how our world works.
“I mean, I came here and still followed my dream, in a way,” she whispers.
“You went to art school?” I ask
“No, but I started selling my art and did several shows. Just under a different name, of course,” she nods. “I lost everything during the robbery. All of the pieces I had at my apartment were stolen. Not that they were even worth anything.”
I am struck silent. I can’t believe she’s already done so much to pull away from her family. And I’m not sure if I’m more surprised that she came back into the world she tried so hard to escape of her own accord. I stare at her until she finally raises an eyebrow.
“What?” she prods me into responding.
“Just, surprised is all,” I stumble over my words a bit. “I-I guess I have never met someone who has actually done what they wanted once they got away or were shunned.”
She smiles again but this time it’s brighter, stronger. I can’t help but want to see what she sees. How different is her view from mine? I imagine from the way she responds to my words and situations that it’s very colorful. I want to see her art, her paintings and carefully drawn scenes. I want to see into her mind.
I blink slowly, realizing my thoughts are twisting strangely right now and I shouldn’t be focused on such selfish things. Instead I should focus on her.
“Well, let me ask something different then. Are you worried about your father?” I finally ask.
She nods. “Of course I am.”
“Then what’s the problem? Why won’t you go see him?” I reiterate.
“Are you deaf? Dumb? Did you not hear that entire story I just told you?” She looks at me incredulously and I can tell she is holding back her misplaced anger.
My lips tweak in a gentle smile, an expression I’m not used to making. Charity whines and places a comforting head in Amelia’s lap, who instinctively strokes across her long, square muzzle. I shake my head.
“I heard, I just don’t see a problem,” I say slowly. “You shouldn’t let an argument from years ago, for whatever reason, stop you from doing what you want to do. It seems like you usually don’t let anything stop you.”
She swallows and her gaze drops from mine. “You and I have an agreement.” She says it like it’s in stone; unmovable, unchangeable.
“That we do, but you disappearing to take care of your sick father for a week or two won’t change that. I will just be honest,” I tell her gently.
“Honesty doesn’t quite work in a family like yours,” she says with a sigh.
“It does when it paints my future ‘wife’ as the perfect daughter figure,” I snort.
She laughs lightly, and for a moment all is okay. For a moment we don’t have to worry about anything more than the coming workday. I tell Amelia she can stay home and take the day off considering her emotional state. But she insists she doesn’t need to and gets dressed all the same to do my suite and then apparently meet up with Russell before I need him. My oldest confidant will be retired by the end of the week.
Soon it will just be me and Amelia.
