“Ugh,” Elsida groaned as she stared at what was supposed to be a painting of Broadway Street. Her thoughts had been so muddled ever since she left the hospital, that visiting her mother’s grave only gave her the reprieve of bawling her eyes out.
It seemed like all she ever did was cry lately and she was sick of it. It only made her feel helpless.
A knock rasped against her door before her Father pulled it open, he stepped in and shut the door hastily as though he was being pursued. A grim line settled across his lips.
“Elsida, care to explain what Armand Benoit is doing in front of our Porch?”
Elsida eyed her Father curiously and her brows furrowed,” Dad I have no clue I swear.”
William Dalton’s jaw clenched as his hands balled into fists at his side, “Well he’s here to see you, and i
