Sarah stood on the pedestal as the man worked on the canvas.
"How long has he been working, it feels like forever." Sarah though.
Her legs ached from standing and she was tired of this man who yelled at her every move. This was the second day of painting. Her family already had a portrait of her. She wondered why her parents were having a new one made. Just then, the lunch was brought in the beautiful room. It had cathedral ceilings and every inch was covered with marble, amber and gold leaf paint. The portrait hall was its official name. Generations upon generations of Sarah's family had their portraits hung up in a sort of timeline. But Sarah was very curious because her portrait was already up on the wall. So why did her family need another one? Sarah's mind was soon clouded as she sat down and ate her lunch.
        After lunch the painting was done. So Sarah did her usual routine of running down the halls and tripping. She went to the library to read about lands far away. She read about desert lands and exotic characters. Sarah finished her book and decided to look for her parents. The sun was setting and the halls at night scared Sarah. She passed her father's study and opened the door a crack.
She heard her father's deep voice,  " We need the portrait by tomorrow."
"There is all really a picture of her on the wall, why do you need another one?" Someone asked in a thick French accent. Sarah pushed the door open a little bit more and saw the painter there. Nerves crashed over her. The conversation ended.
"What could be happening?" She whispered. The men said their goodbyes and she ran down the hall and stopped at her mother's door.  Sarah carefully stepped in to the plain room.
"Who enters?" Sarah's mother coughed.
"It's me, Mama" Sarah said in a hushed tone.
"How are you feeling?" She asked her mother.
Even though Sarah knew the answer. Her mother had tuberculosis. 
"I am doing well my dear, Mama will get better soon," her mother lied.
Sarah stood and looked at her mother with tears in her eyes. This happened every time she came to visit but she never let her mother see her cry. Thankfully Sarah's father came.
"Off to bed darling, you are wearing Mama out," her father said with a hint of sadness in his voice.
So hesitantly, Sarah left and soon felt a wave of sleepiness washed over her.
     The next morning it was the same thing over again. Three long hours of posing for the portrait. But this time the painter finished early and Sarah made her escape to the gardens, she ran around to streches her legs and she climbed her favorite tree. But soon Sarah's father came out and yelled "Sarah come here please, we need to talk."
So Sarah went inside and sat down in her father's study. He seemed as if he was twisted in agony.
"Darling your Mama is very sick, she is not going to be the way she was ever again. You will go live with Aunt Jane in Bathe." He father said bluntly. Sarah felt hot tears streak her face she ran to her mother's room and saw the freshly painted portrait hanging directly across from her mother's bed as she realized what had happened. She crashed to her knees and wept. Sarah felt her father gently pull her to her feet. Her things had already been packed and she was placed inside the carriage. She watched out the window as her childhood home grew smaller and smaller in the distance.