18. Stormy’s rules

Grant

After dealing with some urgent paperwork, I climbed a tree on the outskirts of the forest and took my notebook and pencil from my backpack. Sitting on a tall branch of a tree and drawing was what I used to do when I had to think, or needed time alone. Above everything, that's what I had to do to escape my father and his constant fury. I had to hide in the forest in a place where he would never imagine I would be, but from where I could see him coming.

A long exhale left my nostrils, as the memories swirled from the back of my mind. Most days, my father didn't give me any attention, as if I didn’t even exist. I was only a spare, as he said many times. Yet every time he remembered I existed, it was either to punish or humiliate me.

Scratching the pencil on the paper, I tried to focus my thoughts on something better, beautiful, yet perfectly broken – Angeline.

I started the sketch with her gorgeous eyes, all their fire and sadness.

“We have to check on my Angel,” Stormy bar