The General's Son w***e

VI

“Your cousin, Samantha just arrived.” Mother said. She excitedly introduced me to the girl in front og me. The girl removed her shades and looked at me with an an eyebrow raised.

She seemed pretentious, but I shouldn’t judge right away.

“Samantha, this is your cousin, Anastasia. She’s good at painting and sculpting.” Mother explained. Samantha looked at me from head to toe.

“Old fashioned, I see. Auntie, where’s my room? I need to rest. That flight was so exhausting!” She spoke with an accent. Mother immediately helped her with her luggage.

Looks like her room would be next to mine.

“Anastasia, please bear with her for a while. In a few days, your aunt will come to pick her up.” Mother assured me. I couldn’t do anything but oblige.

I exited the room to continue painting. After a while, Samantha approached me.

“The face you’re painting is really handsome, who is he? Your boyfriend? Can you share him?” She asked. I didn’t know what “number” she was talking about, but it seemed like she was interested in my painting.

I used sign language to try and say that I didn’t know the subject of my painting personally, but it seemed like she either didn’t believe me or she didn’t know what I was saying, so she grabbed the brush I was holding.

“Mommy was right, there was something wrong with Auntie’s child. You know, this handsome face would be wasted if he falls in love with you.” She grabbed my chin and tightened her grip.

Mother shouted to inform us that my hot water was ready, so Samantha released my chin.

“It seems like you two are getting along.” Mother remarked. Samantha smiled at me and I simply agreed with what mother said.

“Yes, auntie, your daughter’s really talented. She’s really good at painting, just like me. You know, I was a Champion in a painting contest once, so I was just telling Anastasia what to improve on.” She said.

Mother nodded and called me to take a hot bath. I thanked her and stepped into the tub, thinking about why Samantha was so rude towards me and how I would be able to go out at night with her beside me.

After a few minutes I stepped out of the bath and got dressed. I went out to check on my painting, only to see that the colors were in disarray—probably because of Samantha. I simply took a deep breath an closed my eyes in annoyance. I tucked the painting under my bed and when I came across Samantha, she had a smirk on her face. Though I was annoyed, I couldn’t do anything to unleash my anger, so I just sucked it up and read a book.

After a few hours, I went out to help Mother with the food. Samantha must have taken a shower again since she wasn’t in the kitchen.

I served the rice and placed it on the table, and Mother instructed me to call Samantha so that we could eat.

I nodded and knocked on the bathroom door. Samantha followed me out of the bathroom, her deathly gaze unwavering.

I chose to ignore it and sat down. Samantha immediately scooped herself some rice and she was about to get other food when mother spoke.

We both turned to Mother.

“Before we eat, we have this rule in our house. We must pray first.” Mother said. Samantha just nodded though you could see that she was annoyed.

After the prayer, we ate quietly and after, I washed the dishes. After that, I went inside the room and saw Samantha busy on her phone. I lay down and pretened to sleep.

“Ugh, so boring.” Samantha huffed. She stood up and exited the room, she was probably going to the garden.

It was finally my chance to leave. I grabbed my painting from under the bead and stealthily walked outside. I saw Samantha busy talking on her phone, so I slowly opened the gate until I heard Samantha. She turned around, but I immediately hid myself. It seemed like she went back to the room and found out I wasn’t there.

I opened the gate and the open breeze greeted my skin. I ran until I stopped in front of our town’s museum. I only saw this in the newspapers that Father sometimes read, so the place was familiar to me.

There were no guards, so I could easily enter. I felt a different kind of fear when I stepped inside. It was huge and full of paintings. I set my own painting on the table, but there was something different about it. It was glowing. I didn’t understand how I was feeling, but I impulsively took it and ran until I found myself stopping in front of a painting of a woman.

I felt sadness wash over me, and it felt like tears were automatically trickling down my cheeks for no reason. I felt my own painting closing in on me and in a split second, I lost consciousness.

I gasped as I felt someone pull me and cover my mouth. I saw that it was a man in a cloak, and I was no longer in the museum.

I saw men in old guard uniforms burning and pulling other men further from their wives and children. It wasn’t a pretty sight, and I really did want to help them, but whoever had me had a strong grip on me. Though a majority of his face was covered, I saw his eyes. They were fiery with rage.

I didn’t know where I was. The last thing I remembered was my painting that I was clutching at the museum when I suddenly lost consciousness. I didn’t understand what was happening until the man lifted me bridal-style and brought me out of that place. I didn’t know where I was or who this man was. If Father was here, he’d probably punch this guy.