𝔠𝔥𝔞𝔭𝔱𝔢𝔯 𝔰𝔢𝔳𝔢𝔫

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this is kinda filler between acotar and acomaf. my writers block is insane today. its been a looong week, yall

⋆ ˚⋆ ⋆ ˚⋆୨♡୧⋆ ˚⋆ ⋆ ˚⋆

The end of summer approached, and we still hadn't heard from Feyre. I was terrified, worry keeping me up every night. If she had survived, she would've sent word.

Elain and Father had been vocal about their concern, which only worried me more. Nesta didn't say much about it. But I knew she cared. I knew she was just as scared as we were.

        I checked the mail everyday, desperately searching for a letter from her. I knew that what she did was dangerous, but I still had hope that she had survived it.

         She was so strong. So much stronger than any of us. I believed in her. But two months had already passed, and we hadn't heard a word. 

That afternoon, the weather was unbearable. The heat was just as bad inside as it was outside. At least in the winter we could warm up with blankets and fires. But we had no way of cooling in house in the summer.

       I was wallowing in my concern for Feyre when I heard Nesta and Elain getting ready to go down to the pond on our property.

I decided a distraction would do me well. And it would be a way to escape from the heat. I followed them, even though Nesta seemed less than pleased when she noticed.

The water in our pond was clear and relaxing. It was a nice way to cool off. There were some fish, but no other creatures to bother us.

       The pond was surrounded by trees, bushes, and pretty wildflowers. The sun reflecting off the water set a peaceful scene for us.

We stripped down to our underthings and stepped into the water. Nesta and Elain swam out deeper, but I stayed where I could stand.

We had a pond in our old manor, as well. We would spend a lot of time in it during the summers. But since I'd never learned to swim, they always scolded me and insisted that I stay where it was shallow. I would watch them play together, far away from me as I just stood there. Feyre would sometimes take pity on me and wade over to the shallow area, talking to me for a bit or playfully splashing me.

"Samara, don't go any farther!" Nesta called out to me.

       I rolled my blue eyes. The water was up to my shoulders, but I could still touch the ground. Elain splashed at Nesta, who scolded her for it.

"We're not children, Elain," she sneered at our sister.

"I'm just trying to have fun, Nessie," Elain defended herself, her golden brown hair clinging to her face.

"Go have fun with Samara," Nesta bristled.

       Elain grumbled something I didn't hear. Elain and I were closer than we had been before, but we certainly weren't close like she was with Nesta.

       I dipped my head back, letting my hair get wet to cool myself down. When I lifted my head back up, Elain was by my side.

      With a flick of her wrist, Elain sent a splash of water towards me, and while I was caught off guard at first, I smiled, retaliating with equal vigor.

       Elain managed to dodge my splashes for a moment, but I quickly launched a surprise attack, soaking my sister.

"Hey, no fair!" Elain squealed. I grinned, water dripping from my fingertips.

"You two are insufferable," Nesta muttered as she swam to shore. "Grow up."

      Elain suppressed a smile, but followed Nesta. The two of them began drying off and putting their clothes back on.

      I envied Elain for not taking Nesta's words to heart as I did. Nesta's insults always hurt worse than anyone else's. She was my best friend growing up, and being rejected by her always hurt. The first time was right after we lost our money. 

It had been a week since we were forced from our home, my sisters had been too busy for me.

I was lonely, hungry, and scared. It was so cold and we all shared one bed. And nobody paid any attention to me.

Nesta had been so upset this past week. She had only spoken to me to scold me. All of my needs had been neglected.

I went to her that night with my favorite book. The one she'd read to me on nights that I couldn't sleep, ever since I was a child.

I tapped on her shoulder, and she whipped around to face me.

"What, Samara?" the 14-year-old snapped at me. I held the book out to her. "We've lost our money. We're living in this hovel, and you want me to read to you?"

I was struggling, too. This was as hard for me as it was for her. And I had no one to help me. Nesta was always there for me. What was going on with her?

I tapped her shoulder again, just needing someone to tell me we'd be okay. Because I didn't believe we would be, anymore.

"I'm not your mother, Samara!" she yelled, shoving me backwards.

     I fell to the ground, my head slamming hard into the floor. I let out a suppressed whimper from the pain, my vision blurring.

"Nesta!" Feyre scolded, rushing to my side. 

I broke into tears from the pain, both physical and emotional. Feyre held me close to her, cooing comforts. I nuzzled closer to her, tucking my face in her shoulder.

Nesta's words hurt so horribly because she was the closest thing I'd ever had to a mother.

   I knew she wasn't truly my mother, but she had always felt like one. I was so desperate for love and affection growing up that I had turned her into a maternal figure in my mind.

To hear her dispute that nearly broke me. It forced me to face the fact that I would never experience the love of a mother.

𝙷𝚘𝚠 𝚃𝚘 𝙳𝚒𝚜𝚊𝚙𝚙𝚎𝚊𝚛(𝙰𝙲𝙾𝚃𝙰𝚁)Onde histórias criam vida. Descubra agora