I’ve never felt like this before, so nervous around a girl.
And she’s kind.
My mind keeps wondering if she would be friendly with me too, even though my face and body looks terrible with all the nasty scars that are covering every part of me.
The worst ones are placed on my back after my father used his silver dagger all over it, but I hide it all underneath my oversized clothes, not wanting anyone to see them nor scare them away more than I already have a tendency to do.
It will draw too much attention towards me, and the last thing I want is for someone to ask stupid questions. They do not need to know what I had to go through as a child.
Other fairies would never understand, no one can understand the pain I had to grow up with, the burning sensation that I’ve been forced to feel since birth.
My fathers behavior was something no one could handle. The fairies who live here are known for their gentleness and I fear that if they knew anything about my father and how he treated me and my mother, they would judge me. They would think that I’m the same as him.
But I’m nothing like that, and I’ll never let myself turn into someone who acts in such a sickening way.
My mother taught me well enough to never become even close to the beast he was. She taught me to be a good man, a gentle one. Deep down underneath the wall that I’ve built up inside of me to protect myself from ever feeling those things ever again, the feelings and thoughts that he made me feel and believe. Underneath it all, there is agentleman. One that believes in love and safety, gentle behaviour, and soft words.
I knew I had it in me, it was the bravery that I lacked. I didn’t have the courage to bring it forth and show it. The feeling was unfamiliar, and that terrified me.
Chapter 3
Genevieve
Why in the world can’t I stop thinking of his face, the smirk tugging at the corner of his lips and the way his eyes glittered as he looked at me?
It felt so silly. There was nothing special about the short meeting, yet my mind refuses to let go of his presence.
Though my focus was mostly on his beauty, his entire look did not go unnoticed. He looked absent, unhappy and upset almost. Thinking back, it makes me believe he was not well, not at all. There was something heavy surrounding him, lingering like a sneaky fox, something he was trying to hide.
Having a lot of empathy for others can sometimes make me lose my sense of self, putting too much of my time into understanding others’ energy and focusing on fairies who would never do the same for me.
“Right now, you need to focus on the well, fly back home and pack everything you’ll need on the way there. It’s going to be alongjourney.” I told myself. This is something I’ve always done in an attempt to calm myself, make myself feel more secure in my decisions and choices.
Arriving at home, I immediately fly over to our small, cozy kitchen. It’s built like a circle with rounded walls and in the center of the room, we have a small circular table in the colors of nature.
There are plants hanging from the ceiling just in front of the two big, round windows, creating the feeling of living curtains.
My mother loves plants, saying they calm her soul when she cares for them. Her favorite is Lily of the Valley. She loves it because she thinks it looks like small babies that need to be taken care of. I have a hard time seeing it but I do love it when she explains it in her own silly, little way.
The walls in the kitchen are pastel green. Every wall in our home is either cream white, light green, siren purple, the warm embrace of brown, or blush pink.
My mother painted it based on the appearance of Esme and me, our hair colors, pink and purple, and our eyes, pastel green.
The memory of her explaining why she chose those specific colors brings a warm, comfortable feeling to my heart. Our mother’s love for her two daughters was the love that every person deserved to experience.
Reaching for the wooden berry bowl on the counter, I pack some strawberries and blueberries, absolutely my favorites. There had always been something magical about them, though I didn’t know why.
Going through the back door, I entered our fairy garden and let myself grab two apples and one pear from our trees.
I loved apples, especially when they were in the hands of a sexy man. Immediately, my mind spun to the handsome fate from my favorite books.
Stepping back inside, I remind myself to pack the most important thing. The map, which will be the last thing placed in my bag.
Entering my bedroom, I try to see if I’ve forgotten anything important. My room is mostly pastel pink, I chose the colors here. Pink, green, and gold are my favorite colors.
The room is rectangular. My bed is placed in the right corner, it’s a cream-colored metal and my bed sheets are pink with a floral pattern.
In the left corner stands a small sage bookshelf with handpainted golden details that holds all of my books. Reading is what I love the most. It allows me to escape my own realm, dive into the world of others, and pretend like mine doesn’t exist. But the heavy realization every time I close a book never fails to strike down like lightning.
