56
The fallout from my actions is severe, painful. Brutal.
Delilah and Broderick left Beauchamp the day before New Year’s Eve, two weeks ahead of schedule. They took Harper with them. They refused to let her stay in the same house as me. The boys left with my parents and Aunt Vivian on New Year’s Day. They had a busy term at Eton ahead of them, was the excuse. I knew the truth was that they were disgusted with me.
My grandfather ordered me to stay at Beauchamp with him. “At least, for a while,” he said. I was amazed at how quickly he was able to forgive me. Or, at least, how quickly he was able to feign something similar to forgiveness. Sienna stayed, too. She said her home was at Beauchamp, with Grandpa and Nonna. The news of Grandpa’s cancer was revealed to everyone the day after Boxing Day. He said the time for secrets and lies was over.
January was impossible to navigate. I lived a nocturnal life, in a desperate attempt to hide away from Sienna. I would stay awake all night, eating the leftovers from their dinners in the kitchen, taking photographs in the grounds with just the moon and the local wildlife for company. The days belonged to self-pitying sleep. I am certain Sienna came into my room a couple of times, but she always left before I could wake myself up properly and confirm it was her.
From the few shared moments I have with Grandpa, he tells me that it was too late to reverse the events I set in motion. That Sienna’s daughter could not be returned to foster care. Sienna is now a mother. A proper mother living in the same house as her child. She has not taken to it well, still has not named the daughter, entrusting her care to the nanny Grandpa and Nonna hired for her. My heart aches for her. She does not deserve to be forced into motherhood. Yet, that’s what I have done to her. I have forced her to confront something she thought to be behind her.
I am a monster.
I am evil.
I am not a Prescott.
In February, at Grandpa’s insistence, I returned to somewhat of a normal life. Although I continued to eat alone in the kitchen, unable to face mealtimes with the cousin I have destroyed, I allow Grandpa to take slight pity on me. I spend an hour or two every day with him in his study, learning more about the intricacies of running a company the size of ours. I agree to take a course on accounting at some point in the future. “Always be prepared for every eventuality,” he tells me.
Nonna smiles at me, has basic conversations with me. I know she has not forgiven me. Truthfully, I do not even know if Grandpa has forgiven me. Perhaps the cancer makes it impossible for him to hold a grudge.
I wish I could gain Nonna’s love again.
I so desperately want to return to normal. To know that my parents aren’t disgusted by me.
I do not think that will ever be possible.
I awaken on a morning in March to a crisp wind blowing through my bedroom. The windows have been opened, the blinds raised. I shuffle anxiously into my living room and see her sitting on my couch. She looks beautiful. She looks exhausted.
“It is time for this nonsense to end,” Sienna says. “We cannot continue to live in the same house without speaking to one another. It is ridiculous.”
I nod in agreement. It cannot be this easy. Should not be this easy. She should be literally tearing me apart right now.
“Okay, get dressed. Breakfast is in ten minutes.”
