It was another day for Xena, devoid of entertainment. It's not like she could complain, Steven had offered her a home to stay in and food for her to eat. She felt like she had no right to let out a word of complaint. A thought popped into her head. Xena thought of exploring the room a little further.
She began by surveying the room and tried to find something to entertain herself. Her eyes gravitated toward the row of drawings glued on the walls. Xena carefully observed each of them. Each sketch was telling a story, waiting for someone to interpret.
Towards the left of the surface, near the pink wooden cabinet, was a drawing with a girl in the middle, grinning. It looked better than the ones she had drawn back at home, the ones Xena usually draws when her boredom reaches the extreme. She usually never draws, but when she does, her shortage of skill is notable in each of her illustrations.
The drawing next to it looked like someone had crumpled the paper. Its contents were of three people—well, three stickmen. One in the middle was shorter and had longer hair. Xena assumed the little one was supposedly Steven's daughter.
Afterwards, the next few drawings were of random stuff: an odd-looking dog on a leash, a rainbow striking over a valley and a river with the clouds unusually close to the surface. Random stuff a youngster would draw.
But there was one that caught Xena's full attention. There were over three people, right next to who Xena assumed was Steven were four little stickmen in red. Her eyes drifted toward the corner. There, Steven's daughter stood behind them. The girl was eerily staring at the six in front.
Xena's forehead creased as she continued to view the next few drawings. If each drawing was telling a story… many would just think it's nothing but childish illustrations.
There was one where the girl was lying on the bed and the bed looked like the one Xena uses. The girl in the drawing looked like she was in a deep slumber.
If the previous one seemed vague, the next one took the cake. It was of a girl in the middle of a snowy city. The streets were bare, and the buildings were relatively in shambles. Everything around her was almost devoid of light. It looked oddly familiar—no, uncannily familiar, as if Xena had seen that street before. She gulped the lump down her throat and looked at the next sheet on the wall. This time it was of a girl holding what looked like a fortune ball. The young woman looked at the ball with disgust, as if she saw something she never wanted to discover.
The illustrations after it was vague. Again, they were just random drawings, like the one with a red and white medicine pill, or the one with a few men in crimson suits.
Xena stared at the one with the men in suits and flashbacks of what happened two days ago replayed in her mind. The soldiers wore a similar crimson colour as the one in the illustrations. Xena's eyes widened and she let out a quiet gasp. It was possible that Steven's daughter had drawn the Arkenhill Special Forces, but she did not understand how and why his daughter knew about those soldiers. She moved her head to the right and hoped to see more. But to her disappointment, there was nothing but a space on the wall.
Xena let out a grave sigh and sat quietly on top of the bed. She thought about the drawings and how sad it felt to know the one who drew them had already passed. The longer she thought about it, the more she felt an odd connection. Xena wanted to see more. She was certain there were more, but she had no clue where to find them.
Xena's curiosity trumped her conscience. She knew it was not right to touch other people's belongings with no permission, yet somehow Xena felt an urge to explore further. The pink cabinet immediately drew her eyes in. Her feet stepped unto the cold wooden floors as she walked toward the cabinet. She knew some people usually keep things hidden under a stack of clothes—well, it's where she saw her mother���s letters. Xena was certain there must be something under those clothes.
And she was right. The moment she lifted the stack of clothes, there was a stash of papers revealed.
Her lips curved up into a satisfied smile. She carefully took out the stash of papers and looked at them one by one. They were far different from the ones on the walls. Instead of the usual sketches, those she was holding had more vibrancy and colours.
Xena's eyes shimmered in awe. She had never seen such beautiful paintings done before. She observed the first one. A little girl with black hair, who Xena assumed was Steven's daughter, sat on a dull rock as the lively forest enveloped her: white butterflies surrounded her, and a small cute fox stared at the girl in awe. Xena was astonished to see such a wonderfully done painting.
She swapped unto to the next sheet. The theme differed like night and day. If the previous one resembled peace, this next one resembled chaos. The girl from the previous painting was now sitting in a tight corner. Her head lowered as she hugged her knees in distress. Vandalized slurs written on the walls all around her: words like 'disgusting' or 'vile' showed. But there was one that Xena's eyes immediately latched on to.
'Metamorphosis plan'
Panic and confusion replaced the awe and astonishment she felt. How could the girl know about this so-called 'Metamorphosis Plan' if they only introduced it to the public two days ago? A brief look was enough. She hurried onto the next one as a result of panic. Tears shimmered in her eyes. Something about that painting deeply disturbed her. Little did she know, the next few ones will cause her even more turmoil.
The following only had one phrase painted repeatedly in red.
'Not an Arken'
'Not an Arken'
'Not an Arken'
It was like there were voices screaming at Xena as she read the phrases repeatedly.
It was all too creepy for Xena--so creepy that she had then shifted to the next painting. She was hoping to see something tranquil, or something vibrant like the first one. But what she saw stopped her to her core.
There was… a little girl with an odd-looking white hair sitting near a window while staring at the downpour outside.
The painting was of her—of Xena. The painting resembled the moment before the chaos occurred. Panic rose in the air. She couldn't understand why and how Steven's daughter painted such a thing. What confused her more was the fact that his daughter painted these when Xena was only two years old. She shook her head in disbelief and her forehead creased.
She noticed there was one last sheet left for her to see. She was hesitant, and her hand was trembling with dread. She hurriedly put the last sheet on top of the previous one. It was of the little girl in the same corner as she was before, in the same desolate room, but this time with a knife in her chest and a puddle of tears beneath. Xena's vision blurred the more she stared at it.
Tears fell down her warmed cheeks. She couldn't believe what she had seen. It was as if she had uncovered everything, and it didn't feel right. Before Xena could swiftly put the paintings back to where it formerly was, Steven had already twisted the doorknob and opened the door.
He had caught her doing something she shouldn't have done. Shock filled Steven's eyes. His forehead creased as he stormed towards her. As he seized the stash of papers away from her hands, he stared at Xena with furious eyes.
"Who told you to touch these things?!" his expression became filled with distrust and disappointment.
Xena's lips quivered with fear. It was unfortunate timing for him to enter before Xena could place the paintings back to where they were. She immediately apologized with tears overflowing her black eyes. At this moment Xena thought all was over. She was expecting Steven to throw her out of his cabin or to curse her out of it. She could see it happening, and she knew it was all her fault. She should have never touched those paintings.
"I-I'm sorry…" her voice was brittle. A sigh of frustration escaped Steven's mouth, and he placed his hands on his hips as he stared at Xena disappointingly.
"Never do it again. If you do, you're out."
Xena accepted her defeat. He had every right to feel outraged. It was Xena's wrongdoing. She wiped the beads of tears away from her face as she watched Steven take off with the paintings in his grasps. She took small steps to the comfortable bed and lied down. Xena may never see those paintings again.
The air around the room felt cold. A chilly breeze entered the room from the small entrance on the window that Xena had opened earlier. She hugged her knees and thought over everything. It was as if her thoughts matched the chilly air around her.
She stared long and hard at the pink wooden cabinet. Once again, Xena had questions running all over her mind. And all those questions went unanswered.
She thought about how quickly one's life can change. She thought life was comfortable under their humble abode, but that was when she still had both of her parents. What she didn't know was that she was blind to the issues surrounding her. If it wasn't for the chaos that occurred, she would remain as a normal child living in Mirefield.
Xena accepted her fate. If this is her life from now on, she was sadly willing to accept it. No matter how much it pained her. Even though she tried to convince herself that she could find her mother, the reality of her being a mere twelve-year-old child kept slapping her on the face. There was nothing she could do. Xena felt beyond weak as if an ominous void was sucking her in and she couldn't do anything about it.
Those paintings hold the answer to her unsolved questions. If Xena could decipher what Steven's daughter was trying to portray, it would answer at least a third of her queries.