Reflecting Hearts - Ch. 4.2 - Between Betrayal and Broken Brushes

Hello Again, My Friend!

It's me, Raven, and I'd like to review the next chapter in this great story using my Familiar method! Let's dive in, shall we? Heh heh heh...

What The Black Eyes See...

Ouch! I knew it was coming, yet it was worse than I thought, and I still cringed. Seeing Abigail's reaction to it all hits the reader hard, but I was very interested to get an idea of what her mother is like through this all. Let's get into the details though.

Where The Dagger Points...

I have no recommendations to make this time! Good writing job ~

Why The Grin Widened...

You really knew how to take the idea of paintings thrown out and make it worse with the details. Example...

Each bag was a repository of tragedy, a sad vessel filled with the remnants of what had been my artwork created since I was in elementary school. Paintings hidden in my walk-in closet, a place no one but me and servants went into, now lay crumbled, torn, slashed, and discarded without a word.

Not only the way you describe what this is like to Abigail, memories put into brushstrokes, but they've been literally destroyed in the process. Rendered completely unsalvageable, and with brushes and tools in the mix as well, who knows how many supplies she just lost, impacting her ability to create more?

My anger raged as I stomped around, looking for my father. I had come to talk about my future with him and to show him my project, but this became more. As I threw open the doors to his study, I found it empty, and I tried to remain steady. I needed to confront his betrayal.

The emotions here! The shock, the dread, the anger, and finally a tragic and sorrowful breakdown leaving her unable to even speak to those around her. You relayed all of this very well; you can really get an idea of how much this has hurt Abigail, and her struggle to process it, or even be around people.

“Oh, honey…” She embraced me in a hug with arms clutching my head. As an artist herself, she knew how gut-wrenching this was.

I was fascinated by her mother! She's an artist too?! That's really cool, and it explains a lot of her more empathetic demeanors thus far. And of course, I do hope she can make Abigail's father feel some regret, and I love the way she phrased this situation. "I can't bring back the beauty you created, but I can rectify it." Nice!

I stammered out my farewell, swallowing the pain swelling in my chest. How could he do this? What did I do to deserve this?

Oof -this line was especially hard to read (not literally to clarify, just figuratively speaking). These questions feel like a plea, making you really empathize with Abigail.

In the solitude of my car, I allowed myself to grieve what I had lost, for the painful revelation that had shattered the illusions I had clung to. I drove away, unsure where to go but needing a place of solitude away from the world.

This is an interesting note to leave on. She clearly needs time alone, but I wonder where "alone" will take her, on both a mental and physical level.

Our Mad Thoughts...

Overall, awesome chapter despite its heaviness, nicely done!

Hi it's 22Midnight again
hope your doing well, let's get into it!

First Impression: looking forward to seeing what these bags are full of but I'm kind of nerves to, hopefully her mom decided to do something tragic so that Abigail doesn't have to live in her fathers shadow forever.

I looked over at the other bags resting in the hall. Each bag was a repository of tragedy, a sad vessel filled with the remnants of what had been my artwork created since I was in elementary school. Paintings hidden in my walk-in closet, a place no one but me and servants went into, now lay crumbled, torn, slashed, and discarded without a word. Did my father do what I think he did?

*cries* ;-; why didn't I see this coming, this is horrible now i'm really angry with her dad! what was he even doing going into her walk-in closet that's her private space that nobody not even her maids should be going into

As I observed another servant maneuver a torn canvas into the bag, my anger flared. The servant opened the bag wider. With the broader view, I instantly recognized the piece, which had been with me since I first picked up a brush. Its messiness showed my inexperience, but it still was full of life and vitality. It was now damaged. Broken brushes spilled out of the bag, and the servant pushed the contents down.

this must hit her hard and make pain go through her spine to see what he did to her art, how could he do this i'm so angry and upset for her right now, where is her sister and where is Emily when she needs her the most because this is so selfish.

I stared at the bag, the realization hitting me like a physical blow. These were not just paintings. These were pieces of my soul, and they were being treated like trash.

your right they should be treated that way now go find your father so I can yell at him for you!

My anger raged as I stomped around, looking for my father. I had come to talk about my future with him and to show him my project, but this became more. As I threw open the doors to his study, I found it empty, and I tried to remain steady. I needed to confront his betrayal.

As I approached the foyer, wiping tears from my eyes, my mother came down the grand staircase.

well you should be angry go give him what for girl you have every right at this very point, she must be so full of sad angry mixed emotions right now shame i feel so sorry for her, dang why isn't he in the study! maybe she can speak to her mother i'm at least hoping that she's nice, *crosses fingers* please tell me she's nice.

“Abigail, honey, what’s wrong?” she called behind me.

I turned, hoping I could cover and not explain, but I could not answer—a servant passed by with the last trash bag. I quickly glanced away, and my mother, noticing my reaction, stopped the servant.

WAIT doesn't she no what happened? or does she just not care why did she stop the servant all this questions I need to read on!

I opened my mouth, but words could not come. Slowly, I nodded my head, unable to meet her eyes.

“Oh, honey…” She embraced me in a hug with arms clutching my head. As an artist herself, she knew how gut-wrenching this was.

I held back sobs. I wanted to leave. My mother must have sensed my silent plea as she pulled away to look at me.

i was trying not to actually cry but now i'm crying how could he do this, his wife is an artist herself and he still can't see how wonderful his daughters art is how, her mother must feel so terrible that she didn't even no what he'd done yet. cry Abigail let it out you can't hold this in.

“Trust me when I say that he and I will discuss this. I can’t bring back the beauty you created, but I will rectify it. He would not be sleeping in this house if he had ever done that to me. I can’t believe him!”

this made me feel like leaping to the air and saying go mom yeah justice is served XD, she sounds like a very supportive mother that's good.

James, ever the gentleman, assisted me with my coat. His usually steady hands trembled slightly, as if he sensed the turmoil that gripped me. He offered me a reassuring nod, but his eyes held an unspoken concern.

aww his sounds sweet to her probably also wants to hug her but that would be weird maybe.

Once outside, away from peering eyes, I broke into a frenzied run towards my waiting car. My footsteps echoed on the brick pathway, the sound a discordant rhythm as chaotic as my mind.

Finally, as I reached the quiet of my car and the door swung shut behind me, I could no longer contain the torrent of tears waiting. They streamed down my cheeks unchecked and unrestrained. It was as if a dam had burst, releasing the pent-up anguish.

and i'm crying with her here shame this must be ripping her apart, her art is her life something that she worked so hard on and improved so much over so many years just for it to be torn up and thrown away, well i tell you your efforts haven't gone to waist you can still do brilliant art and you can put all this sad angry emotion into it.

My hands trembled as they gripped the steering wheel, my knuckles turning white. Each ragged breath seemed to draw in not air but disappointment and hurt. I could feel my heart pounding in my chest, the beat erratic, as if it were going to burst.

In the solitude of my car, I allowed myself to grieve what I had lost, for the painful revelation that had shattered the illusions I had clung to. I drove away, unsure where to go but needing a place of solitude away from the world.

shame i'm so worried right now that someone is going to find her in her car and disturb her, yeah she does need some where alone where she can just morn what she's lost all the hard work that just went into the bin, but please drive carefully when this sad and angry accidents happen easily.

Overall: overall, overall I'M SAD this really was such a well written chapter that i felt so much grieve towards, it really made me feel something for your main character, and it built up a very positive connection to her and made me understand even more why her life is so difficult, maybe this is why she doesn't want to lose Jake because she is scared of how he'll react and what he'll do to her and her stuff.

anyway that's it from me

hope you have a great dawn/dusk/midnight

See Ya