Feyre's POV.
Free falling.
My legs dangled off the edge of the roof as I contemplated that word and how it severely summed up my life. I frowned, my fingers nimbly flicking past pages, covering the bookmark I’d placed on the page I’d paused at, the rake I’d brought up with me forgotten.
‘Feyre? Are you done there?” Grace’s voice jolted me out from my musings and my palms slapped down on the concrete ledge to stop myself from going over. I casted a glance beneath me and gulped, thoughts of how I could’ve been a pile of goop on the cobbles, assaulting me. I pushed back, till the back of my legs scrubbed the smooth surface of the concrete and were no longer suspended in empty space, and then I stood, taking up the rake and hiding my book beneath the pile of leaves before anyone could come up to check on my progress.
Autumn had come and the trees scattered around the house had lost their lushness as their leaves fell onto the rooftop and not only did they die, suffering from the repercussions of this blasted season, but I also wilted more on the inside, being delegated yet another part of the house to take care of, more time for myself and my sanity being taken away from me.
Sighing, I made sure that the book was well covered by the leaves and picked up the wide basket I’d swept them into, hauling the pile downstairs. The first time I’d been told to sweep the leaves down, I’d taken Becky’s words literally and actually pushed the leaves over the edge of the roof. That wasn’t the first time I’d seen Becky’s cruelty but it was the one that stuck the most, because she’d involved my father and he’d sided with her. He hadn’t said so many words or shown his disdain, but it was in his lack of thought and the way he casually agreed that I should haul baskets of leaves down to the backyard, that hurt.
I shook off those melancholic thoughts as I walked through the back corridor, the one that no other person in the house uses. I huffed in annoyance when I had to drop the basket to unlock the back door, and then to pick it up again and head outside. I headed directly for the washroom’s window and put the basket under it – Becky and Grace hardly ever come to the washroom and my room is directly on top of it, so they wouldn’t by any chance look out and see that I hadn’t disposed of the leaves yet. I wondered if I should pull my book out from the pile but then decided against it, since I’d be stepping into the kitchen immediately as I got in.
Wiping my hands on my faded denim shorts, I headed back inside, locking the doors behind me. I was on my way to the kitchen to get started on lunch when my name was called again.
“You better get your ass down here, Feyre, or I swear to God…” It was Becky doing the yelling and from the laughter and her whispered words, I could tell that the end of that sentence wasn’t pleasant. Grace laughed louder, more to get a rise out of me as my footsteps were loud against the wood flooring. I schooled my features into a pleasant one that didn't show my dislike for the both of them just as I entered the parlor.
Grace was huddled against the window seat, a blanket thrown over her thighs as she scrolled through her phone. She didn’t look up as I entered but I could tell that she knew I was there – she gave an extra air of haughtiness whenever I was around her. My eyes flitted to Becky and I saw the scowl she threw my way, before she sank into a recliner. Her Poodle, Fraulein, jumped up into her lap and let out a bark when she saw me, her tail wagging.