Kamaria
Soft morning light filters in through the window beside her bed. But the bed is empty. Her dresser drawers have been thrust open, the bookshelves ransacked for whatever little trinkets or what few books she sought to keep. Clothes spilled out of her dresser, too-small garments scattered across the floor. She took only the clothing that will fit her now, shoving her chosen items into a bag she'd snatched from another room. Even then, she isn't taking much.
She pulls on a light jacket haphazardly, not bothering to fix the collar as it tucks inward, not bothering to tie the boots she shoves her feet into. Taking a deep breath, she faces her door and opens it slowly. She warily examines the hallway for any sign of her father or Nate. At first, all she sees is one of the cats lingering in a spot of sunlight. It tilts its frighteningly flat face up at her and lets out a mrrraow, obnoxiously giving her away.
So much for sneaking away unnoticed.
She steps over the cat and into the doorway of the kitchen, where she's immediately hit with the aroma of freshly-brewed coffee. Looking up, she finds her father here, going about his morning as if it were no different than any other. Which only makes this harder, only makes the emotions rampaging through her mesh together all over again.
"Dad," she straightens up, pulling the strap of her bag over her shoulder, forcing her voice to come out stronger than she feels, "I'm leaving."
She pulls on a light jacket haphazardly, not bothering to fix the collar as it tucks inward, not bothering to tie the boots she shoves her feet into. Taking a deep breath, she faces her door and opens it slowly. She warily examines the hallway for any sign of her father or Nate. At first, all she sees is one of the cats lingering in a spot of sunlight. It tilts its frighteningly flat face up at her and lets out a mrrraow, obnoxiously giving her away.
So much for sneaking away unnoticed.
She steps over the cat and into the doorway of the kitchen, where she's immediately hit with the aroma of freshly-brewed coffee. Looking up, she finds her father here, going about his morning as if it were no different than any other. Which only makes this harder, only makes the emotions rampaging through her mesh together all over again.
"Dad," she straightens up, pulling the strap of her bag over her shoulder, forcing her voice to come out stronger than she feels, "I'm leaving."
to call for hands above wouldn't be good enough
