Rated 12+ for fantasy and violence.
Part 1
“Wouldn’t it be just a shame if I missed that?” she asked, sarcasm thick in her voice.
“Anna--”
“Look.” Anna stood up from the desk and walked towards Celine’s chair to face her, mostly doing this so she could think up another lie. Immediately one entered her mind, nice, fresh, and best of all, new.
“You’re always telling me I need to invest more in my work. You’re always telling me I need to try harder so I’ll go somewhere in life. Well, today, I tried. When Darell came in as my first patient, I started to try. And it worked out great! I tried hard, and now, when it’s time for me to take the next step, you won’t let me. Can you tell me why that is?”
There a pause, a threatening, awful pause. Anna had to fight to keep her serious face from defaulting to a smile. Celine was staring at her hard, as if trying to think of something to say, but when she spoke, her voice sounded as if it knew what to say all along.
“Because I know you, Anna. I know you too well. I know how you don’t try, I know how you don’t care about this job. There’s nothing that happened today that would make you actually care--perhaps, even, the opposite. You hate pleasing people so you’d be on your worse behavior today, so Father wouldn’t be happy in you at all. You love being in the clinic alone so you could draw, so you probably ignored Darell--which is why he passed out again. You didn’t try to do anything today, except for right now, where you’re trying to persuade me to let Darell stay at our house, even though you mistreated him.”
At the word ‘mistreated’ Anna slammed her fist on the desk angrily, straightening up so quickly she nearly knocked her own artwork off of it. She walked away from Celine, looking at the ceiling, trying in vain to collect herself--then, finally, taking a deep, shaking breath, she turned to Celine, the anger apparent in her eyes.
The next words of hers were full of venom. “You may call me a liar, because I am one, or a hater, because it’s true. You can call me lazy, rude, inconsiderate, unhelpful, uncaring, completely and utterly stupid--” Here she had to stop, because her voice was shaking with anger, and when she spoke again, it seemed no better. “But you cannot, under any circumstances, say I did something I didn’t. And Celine . . . I did not abuse Darell.”
Celine stared back at her wild eyes speechlessly. Anna, shaking her head, straightened up and walked away, straight towards Darell. She crossed her arms, staring at his face squarely, keeping herself silent as she waited for an apology.
It didn’t ever come, but a consent did. “Alright, Anna. We don’t have money for a horse, so we’ll carry him.”
Anna turned to Celine, smiling sweetly, and Celine smiled her best smile back. It was rare occasions, like these, that the two were happy they were sisters, happy that they got along so well--even if it was just for a second.
Breaking out of their sweet moment, Celine said, “Okay, so, I’ll take the head and, since this was your idea, you’ll take the legs. Actually”--she changed her mind, for she saw the oddly devious smile on Anna’s face at these words--“I’ll take the legs, you take the head.”
Their journey was slow and painstaking. The only good part of it was that the sun had now set, so a chill was creeping over the land. Despite this, both girls still felt in need of a swim when they finally arrived home, which was at least an hour later than usual. Though Anna didn’t mind being so late, it was obvious that Celine did.
“Anna, we’re going to be late for the dinner!” she had cried at least fifty times on their incredibly slow journey, and when the house was in sight, Celine dropped Darell’s legs completely and bolted towards it. With a sigh, Anna shifted his weight so that she was supporting his entire body, then dragged towards the house.
Celine had left the front door open, and the sound of the water pump in the back echoed through the wooden house. “Marcus, close the door behind me, would you?” Anna ordered as she walked into the house with Darell. The little boy was sitting on the floor playing with blocks--upon hearing Anna’s command, however, he slowly rose and closed the door behind her firmly, then sat back down and continued playing.
Anna walked past Marcus, past the open-doored kitchen, and then paused, looking up the flight of steps exhaustedly. With a groan of displeasure, she trudged up them, trying to support hers and Darell’s weight on the handrails by leaning on them.
There was suddenly the sound of someone clearing their throat behind her at the foot of the stairs, so Anna stopped, and turned to give whomever it was a look with a mixture of questioning and anger. A wealthy man was standing there with a large black hat atop his head and a consuming coat to match. His charcoal colored shoes shined as if freshly polished, as did the buttons on his coat, and his dark eyes stared up at her without a trace of emotion. She couldn’t help but frown at him.
“Who’s the man you’re holding?” he asked in his deep, gruff voice. Anna hadn’t remembered it so cold, but the change of voice seemed to fit his personality and looks quite well, so she only glared.
“My patient.” She turned to continue her phlegmatic journey up the stairs.
“And why isn’t your patient at the hospital, where he duly belongs?” the man only questioned again.
“I’m taking work home. Think of it as homework.” She turned to give him an awful smile, at which his expression did not even change. “What? Aren’t you proud of me?”
He let out a deep breath, leaned against the wall, and whispered as if he had told her a million times before, “Anna, am I ever proud of you?”
Anna had become quite angry once again, so she didn’t even find it worthy to respond to him. Turning, she walked up the stairs without a word and into her room, kicking the door closed with her foot. She carefully laid Darell on the bed, took his pulse to make sure he was fine, then gathered up her nicest clothes from her drawer and went into the bathroom across the hall to change. Usually she would have to be dragged kicking and screaming to change for her dinner with father, but her recent encounter with him made her feel weak and defeated, as if she hadn’t even begun the fight but failed it still.
It took her only a while to pull off her work clothes and on her dress, and when she was finished, she stared into the tarnished window inquiringly. Her dress was long, to her feet, and nearly skin-colored. It came upon her neck tightly like a turtle neck, a single pearl hanging loosely on a thread, showing the only form of neck decoration. Right underneath it, five ruffles hung in a circular motion, their tips shining with gold thread. At her waist there was a large, gold ribbon, tied in a messy bow in the back. Then beneath that, there were three more ruffles, spread very far apart, the last ruffle the ending of her dress, just brushing the top of her big toe. These ruffles too looked as if dipped in gold. She ran her fingers through her wild hair a few times before shrugging, feeling as if she could do nothing more, and walked back to her room.
The first thing she noticed was that Darell had woken up--and the moment he caught glance of her he immediately wiped his eyes with the back of his hand, as if he had been crying. She was confused for a second, almost hated him for acting so weak, but when he spoke she forgot about her feelings.
“Anna--I’m sorry, I didn’t hear you--” He looked up, his eyes getting wide upon seeing her dress. “You . . . er . . . you look lovely.”
Anna nodded hurriedly, pushing any thought of romance out of her mind immediately. She asked very quickly, “Are you okay?”
He blinked twice, staring at her with confusion in his eyes. “I beg your pardon?”
Slowing her words down, she said softly, “Are you okay?”
“Wha--? Oh.” He looked down, embarrassed. “Yeah, yeah, I’m fine. I was just . . . thinking about my father.”
“Oh, don’t worry!” Anna said, beaming all around and sitting on the side of her bed. “I’d cry too, it’s only that he might burst in my room and that would definitely be awkward.”
Darell didn’t seem to understand. “My father . . . he died this morning.”
“Well!” Anna burst happily. “I am pleased to hear of this news! What will you do be doing with yourself now that you're free?”
It was obvious that Darell seemed hurt by these words--he hadn’t received the sympathy he was looking for. “I don’t know about you, but my father and I were very close.”
Anna’s smile faded, and she awkwardly put her hands in her lap and stared at them. “Oh. Well, uh. Sorry.”
It was silent, a harsh, rude silence. Finally, if to do nothing but to break it, Anna said, “I didn’t kno--”
“It’s okay,” he interrupted softly.
A pause, and then, “How’d he die?”
“It’s a long story.”
“I have time.”
He looked her up and down. “Do you?”
Anna sighed, looking down at her dress. “I have a dinner with my father, but, I probably won’t go.” At his look of confusion she said, “It’s . . . well. . . a long story.”
He grinned. “I have time.”
Anna smiled back. “Then let’s begin.”
