Wildflowers | Alec Volturi

treize

"She could have done outstanding, amazing things. She would have."

It was well after lunch, nearly time for supper with the sun already beginning to set when Robyn made it home, cradling her hand to her chest as she traced over the hasty rin tied together from the flower stem, the daisy face looking up at her.

Her father had been waiting with his hands locked together before him with his bible held under an arm. He was examining the wildflowers watching them sway in the soft breeze.

She had smiled to herself, her arm linked tightly to Alec as they ran to join him.

The ceremony had been short and sweet. Robyn had picked flowers for her bouquet and used them for the ring. Alec dressed in his best shirt, had gifted her his key. It was a symbolic gesture as they were not to be living in is home, but it was not the matter that she was to concern herself with. Robyn only cared for the key that was now weighing down her pocket. The fact that he wanted her to be the woman of his home was enough for her.

It happened quick. It was short and sweet. It was all that she could have really wanted, truly.

The house was dark when she returned, the candles were snuffed and the fire burned only coals.

She brushed the petals of the flowers, drawing a pretty smile to her lips as she entered as silently as she could, breath held carefully so as not to alert her likely resting mother to her presence.

As much as she loved the woman, she did not have it in her to see her, not even for a last goodbye. A physician would be here soon to attent to her and her mother had only ever needed Rodick's care and love. She had no time to sit and chat with her regardless of whatever she thought.

Robyn steals a rucksac from Rodick's room and shoves as many of her clothes that she could within in a rushed manner, leaning more on the heavier, winter attire side of things as she grabbed her stuff.

She switched her shoes, putting on her thicker pair for colder wear and placed her lighter, smaller ones at the top of the bag.

Her room wasn't so much bare as it was a mess of things strewn about blindly. If she was looking at it without a clue she would have thought that they had been robbed, or rather, that she had been robbed for some precious dress that she did not own.

She shook her head, frowning at the state of her things. She made no move to clean it, however. Part of her wished that her Father would not say a thing and that Rodick and her mother would be left to worry about her if only for the reason that it will be her last chance to inconvenience the pair, her only chance to get them back once and for all after all those arguments and disagreements.

It was petty, she knew, and childish, but she much enjoyed the thought of it still.

Silently, she dismissed her train of thought and tip-toed her way to the kitchen to grab one of the many loaves of bread, likely a compassionate gift do to her and her Father's near demise in the fire, and some of the meats that have been smoked and cured into jerky. She stuffed them in her basket, laying a few apples on top along with a tied cheese cloth of oats. It wasn't much, but it would be enough to sustain them until they reach town where they could acquire something more.

"What are you doing?" her mother says in a timid voice that had become characteristic of her.

Robyn licks her lips. "Mother. What are you doing out of bed?"

"You haven't answered my question."

"You haven't answered mine."

Her mother's soft, tired features shift to something dark. A scowl looks ugly on her face, the burn of rage in her eyes unattractive from the prettiness of the woman that she was.