The Songbird [Harry Styles]

3: Proposals + Protests.

 ♪ CHAPTER THREE: Proposals + Protests. ♪

The buttery smell of gingerbread being baked in the large oven of the Salter household is what met Annabelle’s nostrils as she stirred between her blankets. Her soft chestnut curls fell messily around her face and tickled her cheeks as she stretched her body to life. Her tongue wetting her chapped lips she cringed at the dryness of them, and rubbed at her eyes once more before using her elbows to sit up. Her right hand fumbled on her bedside table for the small pot of Vaseline that she quickly plucked into her possession and applied.

It was a nice day in the depths of England where she lived, day in-day out the same thing, boring old routine. She’d wanted to get a job, and had asked Ariel about it many times. But Ariel thought nothing but silliness of the idea, and said that as long as she was under her roof, she would not have to pay a penny in the way of living. Annabelle often wondered where all of Ariel’s money had come from, since she seemed to have endless amounts of it and nobody to spend it on but Annabelle. She had often also wondered if that was partially why Ariel had adopted her, because she was lonely. It was like maybe buying a cat or a dog, something or someone to live in your house and share your life with you, and be a pleasure for simply existing. But an animal wasn’t really the same as a human, humans are complicated. They have feelings and knowledge, habits, character traits, likes and dislikes, personalities and power, mean streaks and generosities. The list was endless to how many differences there were between them. Of course she was ever grateful though, but there were just some days, sometimes, where she only wanted to be in a place she would be ignored. Not engulfed by Ariel’s constant concerns and fusses, her gifts and showering of things Annabelle didn’t really need and sometimes didn’t even want either.

Downstairs, Ariel was busy as always making sure that Annabelle would be content when she did arise from the minimal, sleepy hollows of slumber she had immersed in. Her white fluffy dressing gown was wrapped snuggly around her plump frame as she bustled around the cosiness of the kitchen, preparing and baking foods for hers and Annabelle’s breakfast. Ariel liked a good, hearty meal at any time of day; she liked the finer things that made sure you were full so you could eat no more. Whereas Annabelle preferred simple food that gave simple, according satisfaction, that when she was no longer hungry, she would no longer eat. Ariel always encouraged her to eat some more – there’s plenty to go round – but Annabelle was fine, she didn’t want anything more than what she needed.

It was these character traits, and desires in lifestyle differences that Annabelle thought should have been assessed when the adoption was analysed. She should have been put with someone like herself. Although she knew this was partially selfish, since there many kids still in the care home, and looked to be set in there until they reached a point where they could stand on their own two feet.  But the staff there had been keen for the adoption of Annabelle to Ariel to take place. It wasn’t that Annabelle was trouble in any way. No, she was the quiet brunette that sat and read books and listened to music while the other’s played and shouted. It was her quiet nature that had made her unappealing to all the younger couples who were looking for a child that would bring excitement to them. But it was what had attracted Ariel, their personalities were irrelevant, it was the small pleasure of living with another human, that wasn’t too much of a bother.

That was her all over: Not too much of a bother. It was the best way to be, wasn’t it? You learned so much more that way. She thought so, anyway. Sitting on the side-lines and watching other’s make the mistakes you would know to never make. Not associating closely with other humans so then when they left, there would be no pain felt. Observation was the key to knowledge, to wisdom, to the simple element of common sense. Quiet observation at it’s best, was her favourite personality trait. Blending into the background and watching alone, was the path to sanity. And although she may have been quiet and reserved, she would never let anyone tell her any different.