Unsympathetic

Disappointed

Then he was gone. Father disappeared. As always he refused to take me along.

He told me, "It's dangerous out there. How do I protect you? You are better off here."

To which I would reply, "I'm not any safer here. Someone is trying to kill me and you know who it is."

So now I sit here in the dark, trying not to look over my shoulder to see if someone was behind me.

I could hear chatter in the next room. I wanted to join them but they would stop talking the moment I came near. As I debated whether I preferred to be alone in my dark dungeon or to be lonely in a room with chatty people, my very first recollection of father rushed to my mind. He was holding me in his arms and his lips were moving but I don't seem to remember his voice. The sting of abandonment cut through me, setting loose a stream of tears and painful breaths.

Why doesn't he love me, I wondered. I hated this place he called home. What is so special about it? Someone is always trying to fight us. Can it be any worse out there?

A faint voice in my head told me to go out and look for him. I knew better than to listen to that voice but the thought was tempting. How much better I would feel if I could leave this place?

I felt the need to lay down, to rest or sleep, however Danya had thrown my mattress down the stairs. I was too frustrated to haul it back to my room and now the empty bed frame served as a reminder of wicked Danya. How I would love to shove her down the stairs. But she'd only fly away. I'd have to tie a heavy rock to her feet. I shuddered and turned around.

I wish my room had a door but doors are strictly forbidden. So I paced the rug and threw the blanket across my shoulders, then flopped down to rest my head on the pillow. Oddly, I felt safer sleeping on the floor. Perhaps it was just different.