With that Faith scampered to her dad’s office as she later did many times again. Every day after school or in the afternoon on Saturdays and Sundays Faith would go to the dungeon to feed the prisoners the same platter from Francisco the butler. The more she did this, the closer she got with all of the prisoners, especially Willow. One day as Willow ate Faith even explained about her mom and how her dad had shot her then later said she was trying to kidnap and sell her.

“I just don’t understand because all I can remember of my mom is how nurturing and protective she was of me,” Faith said, pleading for answers.

“Baloney!” Willow said, “Your mom was wonderful I am sure. I think she took you away from your dad because she knew how bad he was. Your dad shot her because if he was going to be the President of Melior, he couldn’t have a wife who wasn’t supportive of his campaign.”

“But why go so far as shoot her?”

“By then your dad had already devoted his soul to working and reputation. A divorce would give your mom the opportunity to rebel against your dad's ways while shooting her he could say one day she ‘disappeared’.” Willow answered calmly.

Faith gaped, her mouth wide open. “How do you figure out all this stuff?” she asked suspiciously.

“It’s what I would do if I was an evil Dad, trying to have as much power as possible,” Willow replied making Faith laugh. “I also learned something from living somewhere named poor in Latin.” Another day Faith spent some time creating a portrait of her and Willow. It was a beautiful painting of the two young adults holding hands, raising them towards the sun. Willow’s shackles were off her, laid on the floor in the painting and Faith had a family portrait in her hand. The glass was cracked on her dad’s face. “When we are free,” Faith titled it. She sprinted to Willow’s cell the day after and slipped the painting quickly through the bars.

“This is the most beautiful thing I have ever seen,” Willow said, staring at the painting, “thank you.”

“No,” Faith said, “thank you for giving me a future to hope for and to create art about.” And thank you for being my first friend Faith thought as she watched Willow slip the painting underneath a loose stone in the floor.