Ok, I am SO SORRY I haven't updated this story in forever! I just got carried away with my other one. But I will be concentrating on this one until it is done so I hope you all forgive me.

Chapter 9

We drove to the park and she was right, all the equipment was soaked. We ignored it and sat down on the largest swings we could find.

"So when will I get my artwork?" I teased lightly.

"I'm working on it! Just gotta be patient, Mr. Pushy."

I chuckled. "Alright. I can wait."

"Good."

"So when do you want me to take you home?"

She shrugged. "Whenever is fine with me."

"Your parents wouldn't mind you staying out this late?"

Her face changed and she looked sad. "My Parents don't really care what I do."

I looked at for, not happy to see her look so upset with her parents.

"I wont push for you to tell me anything… but I am here if you want to talk."

She was silent for a few moments. Tears did not leave her eyes, but I think she wanted to cry.

Maybe she has no more tears to shed on the subject.

"My parents just don't love me." She finally said.

I remained silent, but that didn't stop the hollow feeling I suddenly had in my chest.

"Even when I was little, I don't remember any real tender moments with my parents. At least, nothing real. My father is a lawyer, a very powerful one. He wants to eventually be a judge. He has put several criminals away and loves being the one to throw away the key. My mother is nothing more than a social butterfly. She loves planning parties and making sure my father looks good in the spotlight."

Of course she does… but what about you, little butterfly?

"Most of my time was spent with my grandmother. My grandfather passed away from a stroke when I was little, but I still loved being near my grandmother."

She smiled a little, recalling the memories.

"We would watch old movies and T.V shows. She would read me stories. She even started my love for art. I loved her. She was the one family member that showed me true love. My mother would push me onto her every time they went out or had a social event, so I was with her all the time. "

Her face was sad again.

"She passed away when I was ten. She just got really sick and never recovered."

"I'm so sorry Emily."

She shrugged. "l learned to let go. I grieved and it's done. Grandma wouldn't want me to dwell on it. Even she said she would be happy if we all just mourned her for a few days but then to get back moving with out lives. But then I had no one to be pushed onto when they had their social events."

"So what happened to you?"

"For a while, my mother would just keep me in my room. She said if I ever came out during those parties, my father would never forgive me for ruining his day. I was good and stayed hidden. But as soon as I turned fourteen, my parents finally found a use for me. My mother bought me expensive dresses and clothes and made me go to every party, introducing me as his perfect, never does wrong daughter. But as soon as they were done showing me around, I was either put back into my room or stuck in the corner of the room being ignored by everyone."

My anger for these people began to grow inch by inch with this story.

"The only thing I had was painting and drawing. Every time I got money, I bought art supplies. It was the only way I could deal with being stuck in that house with them. I decided I wanted to be an artist or something creative like that. When I was fifteen, I was sitting down with my mother and father in their office, the only place where the three of us would talk. My father said now that I was old enough, it was time to discuss my future."

"I'm guessing he had it all figured out for you."

"Sure did. He said he wanted me to do something that would do this economy and me some good. I took that as to mean something he could flaunt in society that would boost his own career."

She chuckled, but it was an empty one.

"Oh I had choices. I could be a lawyer like him. Or he would accept a doctor. Then he also gave me the option for him to set me up with the son of one of his friends so I could be a good wife, just like my mother is."

I continued listening, fighting my urge to take her into my arms and comfort her. I knew she needed to finish what she had to say, so I was patient.

"Hearing him talk like I was nothing but a tool crushed me. When he was finished with his fancy little speech about my future, I just looked at him and asked me if he even loved me. I think it was the first time my father looked like he was at a loss for words. My mother was worried he would get angry with her then snapped at me, calling me an ungrateful and spoiled brat. I snapped and told them I would do whatever I wanted with my life and they had no say in the matter. I ran out of the room and locked myself in my room."

I couldn't stand it anymore. I reached over and took her hand.

She gently gripped it but stared into the grass.

"After about thirty minutes, my father came into my room and demanded to know why I was being such a spoiled brat after all he did for me. I tried showing him my artwork, telling him how much I loved to paint and draw. I told him I wanted to go to art school. That would make me happy."

"But I guess… he didn't care about what you wanted."

She nodded and I finally saw tears.

"He said that such things were for fools who wanted to end up in the gutter. He ripped up the drawings and walked out the room, saying to talk to him when I was ready to be serious. Ever since then, we hardly speak. He keeps trying to talk to me about schools he wants me to apply for but I ignore it. Not too long ago I told him I had applied to an art school not too far from here. He ignored me."

"Are your parents the reason you never let me take you to your house?"

She nodded. "I don't want you to see what kind of people they are. Every time I tried to bring a friend over, they treat them like crap or question them on everything. No one wants to come over. And god forbid I ever bring a boy home."

I gripped her hand. "I would never mind seeing them. As far as I'm concerned, they have a great loss as to never see your skills as an artist."

She smiled at me. "Thank you."

Her smile could light up the world…

I finally noticed how late it was getting.

"Maybe I should take you home. It's getting very late."

She got off the swing. "It's ok. I can walk from here."

I shook my head. "No. I want to take you home. I do not fear your parents."

But I would love to make them afraid of me.

She hesitated, but I won. "Alright. Just dropping me off there, right?"

"If that's all you want."

We returned to my car and she gave me directions to her home.

Her house was a beautiful two-story home. A small garden was on either side of the door. Not a single weed in sight.

A perfect house for a man who demands nothing but perfection…

Emily unbuckled herself from the seat and gave me another smile.

"Thanks for the ride… and thank you for listening to me bitch about my parents."

I gave her a smile. "Anytime you need me to listen to you, I am here."

She leaned forward and kissed my cheek.

"Have a good night Damien!"

"Goodnight Emily."

I watched her make her way up the path to her house, and with sad eyes, make her way inside.

I had to admit, curiosity got the better of me.

I need to make sure she's going to be ok…

…

Again, I am so sorry I haven't updated this story in a while. I will be concentrating on this one from now on so I hope you all forgive me. More to come soon!