The White Rose

Adam was furious at Isabel’s actions. Here he was trying to apologize and she slammed the door in his face! She wasn’t going to get away with that. Not in his house. Adam readied himself to kick down the door but once he was going to do it, he stopped. No, he thought as he lowered his leg, I’m not going to do it this way. He let out a long sigh as he began to rub his temple. His anger was the reason why he was in this situation. Instead he decided to go get a drink. That would be the answer to his problem. Just a drink to clear his head and calm his anger. While muttering to himself he walked down the hallway and to the bar that held all of the liquor.

Isabel slowly opened the door of her room and when it was wide enough to fit her petite body, she slipped through then quietly closed it. With the fire poker still in hand she made her way to the kitchen. Hours have passed since the fight and the so-called apology and she was very hungry.

Everything was dark and the only light was from the moon shining through the windows. None of the candles where lit, and she scoffed when the thought of Mr. Richardson waiting for her to do so went through her mind. Like I’m going to be doing anything for that man anymore, she thought. She no longer was going to be his servant. Once the storm passed she was out of the house and would find another job to pay him back.

Her thoughts went to her father back home and her heart filled with sadness. Earlier, she had called him on her cell phone to tell him about the fight, but halfway through a tearful sentence her phone died. Now there was no way to communicate with him or her siblings. She stopped walking at the thought of him worrying about her. What was his reaction to the phone suddenly dying? She hoped that he didn’t do anything drastic that could endanger his life. Her eyes began to water as she held the fire poker to her chest. She was truly alone.

Then the sound of glass hitting wood caused her to jump and look ahead. To her surprise she had been standing in front of the kitchen the whole time. Gripping the fire poker tighter she cautiously walked in, not knowing what she might discover. Her eyes landed on a dark figure at the small table. It was Mr. Richardson slumped over with an empty glass clutched in his hand. From what little moonlight there was she could make out several liquor bottles on the table.

Isabel slowly turned and took a few steps, attempting to leave before her noticed her. She did not want to have another confrontation with him. She was almost all the way out when he called her name. Immediately she stopped, but didn’t face him.

“I-sa-bel,” he said slowly, with a slur. “Wait.” She heard him slide the chair back as he stood. “I’m… I’m…”

His footsteps made her turn and watch as he drunkenly walked over to her. “I’m… sorry,” he finally got out as he stopped in front of her.

She scrunched up her nose as the disgusting smell of his breath reached her. “I do not believe anything a drunk person says to me,” was her reply as she took a step back.

“Wait,” he said as she grabbed her arm.

“Let go of me!” Isabel pried his hand away and pushed him back. She watched as he stumbled then finally fell back onto his butt. She didn’t check to see if he was okay. No, instead she turned and quickly exited before he got a chance to get up and follow.

Once she reached her room she flung open the door then slammed it shut once she entered. She grabbed the vanity chair and dragged it over to the door and placed it in front. If he had slapped her when he was sober then she didn’t want to find out what he would do hen he was drunk. And if he needed to get drunk to give an apology, then she knew that she could never forgive him.