My Personal Hell, D. Richardson [ebook reader browser txt] 📗

smear the left over chocolate all over my cheek. I groaned as I tried to wipe it away, and he helped me to my feet.

But I couldn’t help the chuckle that wouldn’t stop as we made our way back to our blanket. It felt so good to laugh and have real fun. I had forgotten how freeing it was. We plopped back down on the ground and started to pile all of the uneaten food back into the basket he had brought.

It was almost six and the sun was setting. We had laid back on the ground to watch the stars appear. It was peaceful, and beautiful, it had a calming effect that I had never experienced before.

When the moon had risen, and glowed right above us, he raised himself up on his side. He gazed down at me, his grey eyes reflecting the moon light.

“Are you enjoying yourself?” his voice was low, almost a whisper or murmur.

“Yes, today was great. I don’t remember the last time I’d had this much fun.”

“Good, because I was hoping that I could count this as our first date,” his tone never changed, but my eyes snapped to his on the last word.

“I’m not like the girls you normally date,” I answered, thinking of Christine. His expression turned somber but he nodded.

“I know, that’s why I wanted to try. I like you, Ailith. I have ever since I saw you standing in my kitchen. Christine was just a way to pass the time.” I opened my mouth to explain just how screwed up that sounded, but he talked over me. “I know, that’s sounds bad, but it’s true. She can be really sweet when she wants to be, but she’s not really relationship material. I know you are. You’re serious, intelligent, resourceful, stubborn, beautiful, kind, everything that I didn’t even know that I liked. But I know now, and I would kind of like to give it a try, if you’re willing?” he asked.

I took a deep breath, trying to clear my head and truly think about what he was asking. But it was difficult with him laying so close to me. I could feel the heat coming off of him, and smell his body wash and cologne mixed in with his natural scent. I wanted to ask for more time to think about it.

I mean, I liked him well enough. I was certainly attracted to him. He made me laugh, and I had fun when I was around him. Like shoving a piece of cake in someone’s face, or let them chase me around a clearing out in the middle of no where. But what came out was…

“Okay.”

A couple of hours later we walked into the kitchen. Jen seemed to be arguing with Drake about something. Camilla was just sitting in the corner with a notebook in her lap. She seemed to be oblivious to the world.

Adrian, Aden, Aaron, Dalton, Macon, and Nevin were all seated around the table playing their almost nightly game of poker. Bailey sat at the end of the table hanging on every word any of them spoke. He was a rambunctious thirteen year old. But if you paid attention you could tell that all he really wanted was to be like the enforcers, family or not.

What caught my attention the most was Lori. She was standing next to Jen, arguing just as hotly as the other girl. It looked like she was backing her up on something. I’d never seen her step up so strongly. Whatever she was arguing about I hoped she won. It would be good for her.

Dalton, Macon, and Nevin gave me a discreet nod of acknowledgement before directing their attention back to their game. Asher moved to sit down with them as their hand ended and they began another one. I was still too wired to go up to my room for the night so instead I sat down next to Camilla.

The notebook on her lap wasn’t actually a notebook, it was a sketchpad. The scene she was sketching was absolutely gorgeous. It depicted a wooded area illuminated by the full moon casting the trees in a luminescent glow. There was an entire pack of wolves gathered around the trees, all of them either walking or sitting with others. The camaraderie was evident with every line she drew.

“Ailith!” my head snapped up to look at Jen. “Will you please talk some sense into my pigheaded father?” I looked back and forth between them, utterly confused. Why on earth would she want my help against her father? But I stood and made my way around the table to where they were standing.

“What’s going on?” I asked, not entirely sure that I wanted to get involved at all.

“He still won’t let me make my own clothes,” she answered with exasperation dripping from every syllable.

“It’s a waste of money. You’ve never even held a needle before and I’m not wasting hundreds of dollars for you to try for ten minutes and then give up!” Drake answered, anger mixing in with his own exasperation.

Wait, isn’t this the man that allows all of his children to spend hundreds of dollars on clothes when they already had some that fit perfectly fine? All in the name of fashion? That gave me an idea.

“What about all of your old clothes?” I asked Jen. Her brow crumpled in confusion.

“What about them?.”

“Well, do you still have them?,”

“Yeah.”

“Then why don’t you use them for your projects? I mean, you could take them apart and use the fabric to make all new clothes. You could even make new designs by taking different parts of different shirts and putting them together. That way you wouldn’t have to spend money on new fabrics, and you have material to learn from,” I looked between the two of them, uncertain as to whether or not it was a good idea. But Drake had a thoughtful look, and Jen was staring at the floor as if really thinking through the possibilities.

“I have an old sewing machine you can use,” Becca said out of nowhere. I had no idea which direction she had even come from. “I can teach you how to use it if you’d like,” she offered.

“Then it’s settled. You can use your old clothes and your mother’s sewing machine to make your own designs,” Drake answered with finality. I half expected Jen to argue about needing brand new supplies, but she just gave a thousand watt smile and took off for her room.

What I didn’t expect was for her to spend the next three days, outside of school, in the attic where the sewing machine was set up. On the third day I had just gotten home from dance practice. Stacey was determined to beat out the cheerleaders at an assembly that was scheduled in the next couple of weeks. I had about an hour to kill before I had to be at work, so I had decided to go home and spend a little time with Asher. But as soon as I walked in Becca had asked me to take a plate of food up to Jen.

I got to the top of the stairs only to stop dead in my tracks. There was fabric everywhere. All sorted out by color, shape, and size. It was like a rainbow vomited all over the attic, but in a nice way. And right in the middle of the room in front of the sewing machine sat Jen. She was so engrossed in what she was doing that she didn’t even realize I was standing right behind her.

“Hey.” She jumped at the sound of my voice and spun looking around the room frantically.

“Oh, I thought you were Mom for a minute,” she answered, taking a deep breath.

“You don’t want your mom to see what you’re doing?” I asked.

“Not really, Dad either. They wouldn’t understand,” she replied as she turned back around. I looked at what she was doing and nearly gasped. She was working on a gorgeous dress. It was a base black and it looked like she was attaching silver Rhine stones all over the bodice.

“I thought Drake had said that you had never touched a needle before?” I asked, eyeing the garment.

“Yeah, I guess I just never told them,” her answer had a vague feeling to it and it piqued my curiosity.

“Never told them what?”

“That I’ve been sewing for the last three years. I started in eighth grade, when I took home-ec. The teacher taught us a lot and I’ve been trying to make my own clothes since.”

“Why don’t you want your parents to know?”

“They don’t really want us to get too attached to anything.”

“What do you mean?”

“Well, its just that, they want us to wait until collage to decide what we really like. So we don’t get our hopes up if it doesn’t work out.”

“That doesn’t sound all that fair,”

“They mean well I guess. But I really like doing this, and I wish I could make it a real hobby. That’s why I finally decided to ask Dad to let me get some materials.”

“Well, your secret is safe with me. I really like that dress though,” I answered as I turned to leave.

“Really? You’re not just saying that?” she asked and I turned back to look at her. She had such an expression of hope. That I would have felt terrible to tell her I didn’t even if it was the truth.

“Yeah, really, you should keep doing this. Especially if you really enjoy it,” I answered, and turned after she smiled at me.

The rest of my hour was spent sitting on the couch with Asher. I was just watching a movie when I felt his arm stretch over my shoulders. I looked over at him, but his eyes were glued to the TV. So I just mentally shrugged and turned back to watch. It wasn’t long after that that I had to go to work.

The next day, right after the last class had ended Jen ran up to me. It took her a couple of minutes to talk since she was out of breath. But when she finally did she had a smile the size of Texas.

“I joined the home-ec club. They meet three times a week and all they do is sew and cook. I don’t care much for the cooking, but I don’t have to. They said I can do whatever I want in there. This is so great thank you.”

“Why are you thanking me?” I asked, a little unnerved.

“What you said yesterday, about how I should keep sewing because I enjoyed it, and how you liked my dress. It got me thinking that maybe I don’t have to hide it anymore. Especially if there’s a chance I could be good at it. So I asked Mom and Dad last night if I could join. I said it was to help me learn how, and they agreed so long as I didn’t get too attached or make it all my life was about.”

“That’s awesome, congratulations,” I said, smiling as she rushed off to do this or that. I walked away in a daze, only to run into Camilla a few hallways away. She was just coming out of the art room. A line of students followed her out, talking to her as they passed.

“Camilla?” I asked, not entirely sure I had the right person. At home she seemed so quiet and shy except for when it came to shopping and clothes. She jumped when I said her name and she looked at me wide eyed.

“What are you doing here?” she asked and I squinted at her slightly.

“Dance practice just let out. Are you in the art club?”

“Yeah.” But then she leaned in forcing me to listen closely to what she said next. “Can you keep a secret?” she asked and I nodded, feeling a little uneasy. “I’m the president of the art club.”

“Why is that a secret?” Did this entire family have forbidden hobbies?

“Mom and Dad