Nothing special.
just an old, crappy journal that has every inch of me poured in it.
The spine cracked from opening it too much.
I cherished it
because it was the only place where i could be loud without being judged.
-VINCENT BLACKWOODS
I don't know what she expects me to do with it, but at some point over the past seven years, they taught me how to read and write. I suppose that's enough.
They call this a house, but it's more like a prison.
Not that I expected any better — not with the way they look at me. Like I'm a failed experiment. A waste of time. A disappointment to the Blackwoods.
They're one of the wealthiest families in Aurem — my supposed hometown. Not that I've ever seen it. I haven't been allowed to leave the house since I was three. Not even my room, unless they say so.
They always wanted an heir — a boy with the blood and face of his father—the kind they could raise like royalty.
I'm a boy, yes. But I didn't inherit anything from him. No, I took after her — the woman who made my life a nightmare. Black hair. Blue eyes. Everything she hated seeing in a son.
She might've been my mother once, but power took that from her. Whatever love she had for me burned out long ago.
My sisters are different. They were treated like angels.
And I don't blame them — not one bit. I love them with every cell in my body.
But her? She destroyed me just to keep herself in their favour.
(A drawing was put between pages )
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I gave them names. I don't know if they're right. No one ever told me what they were called.
Yours sincerely, Vincent Blackwoods.
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