Page 2 of If You Give an Artist a Killer Muse

Amaura rolls her eyes, but I can tell she doesn’t mean it because she’s smiling the whole time. She’s funny like that; she likes to tease me by pretending to be mad or annoyed with me, but I know it’s all for fun.

She says nothing as she pulls me along, and we enter the big building behind the angel statue. I nearly stop when we walk in because there are smaller statues of angels! There are some on the windows, too, and they are so colorful. I want to look at every one of them, but Amaura says no.

But that’s okay. She finds me a small angel figurine that looks exactly like the one from outside. She tells me it’s not a toy, but that’s okay. I’m going to leave him beside my bed, anyway.

“I wish they had stuffies of the angel, but this will do,” I grumble, but I can’t stop staring at the little figurine Amaura bought me.

“Oh, I’m so glad you approve,” Amaura laughs as she gently pulls me along so we can continue walking. “C’mon, Briar. Let’s go before I get fired.”

*-*-*-*

I’m nervous about showing my parents what my nanny bought me. They never buy me gifts, so will they say I’m not allowed to have any? But what if I told them she bought it so I could feel protected?

On our way back home, I asked her about it. “Can I show my parents what you got me?”

Amaura is quiet for a bit. I think she didn't hear me. But she says, “I don't think so, Briar. I'm technically not allowed to buy anything for you unless they approve of it. This can be between us, okay? Don't mention the angel figurine and hide it immediately.”

My excitement fell.

But why?

How can they not appreciate something so pretty?

As soon as we went home, Amaura rushes to the kitchen to help Chef Greene, who cooks for us. I love his food. He always sneaks in extra chocolate desserts for me whenever my parents aren’t looking. I follow her and saw the cookie jar full once more.

I walk over to it and try to climb on the chair to reach it, but Chef Greene makes a tutting sound.

“Not so fast, young lady.” He gives me a cookie anyway.

“Briar, what did I tell you? Put your angel away and go shower!” Amaura sighs.

But I'm too excited. I want to know what my parents think of Amaura’s gift! They have to like it! No one's ever bought me anything I wanted before until today.

I find my parents in the living room. Mommy is on the couch, reading her book as she sips from her favorite cup. Daddy is in the armchair, reading a newspaper while smoking.

I grimace. I hate how the room smells whenever he smokes. He tells me it’s a cigar as if I know what that means or care.

“Mommy! Daddy!” I grin at my parents as I rush to them. “Look what Amaura got me!”

They both look at me.

I stop, watching their expressions change as their eyes sweep from my face to the figurine in my hand—blank to confused to angry.

I don't understand. Why are they angry?

I step back, my heart dropping as Daddy shoves his newspaper away from him and stands up.

“Daddy —”

“What the fuck is that?”

That familiar feeling of my stomach dropping and my chest hurting is back. “I —”

He wrestles the angel from my hand. I kick and scream, trying to jump up to grab the angel back from him, but I'm too short. Daddy stares at the angel again and makes a tutting sound.

I touch his arm, “Amaura says the angel will protect and watch over me. Isn't that wonderful, Daddy? He can protect me, so I think that —”

A brittle, snapping sound interrupts me. I drop my arm, my gaze fixed on what had once been a beautiful angel figurine. Now, it lies shattered on the floor, its shards scattering across the tiles like fragments of my broken emotions.

---