Dear cyril,
As you might've read the last days have been absolutely crazy here. I apologise for not writing but that was because I was quite busy with the ball. I will attach a clipping from the article about it. I wish you could've been there. I apologise for this letter being handwritten. I'm writing this in the carriage back home from the ball. So I apologise if you can't read it. Just say so if that is a concern. The party was perfect, I have danced, laughed and talked for two who whole days and most of the night too. I wish you could've seen it for yourself. Oscar was there too, oh and do you know who helped me? Charles from Oxford. Oh and darling I met a very nice young man, His name Vincent-Lorenzo, he's french-italian. He's beautiful, short black hair that he wears very elegantly. I really can't describe him. He's a friend of Oscar, he's exactly my age. What a coincidence right. Oh and I also wanted to tell you that Charles is getting married. I wanted to thank you for the bottle of absinthe. I can't recall being so negative about it. Because to be honest it tastes really good. It must've been my father who was against it.
You really should've been there. oh I've also been to the opera Lakmé too. I missed you very much while watching it. But alas you're not here. I'm glad you like the watch. I hope you'll wear it often. I wish you could've been at the ball. Je t'aime. I miss you.
Your sunlight,
Your friend, Yves
I'm trembling as I try to get the tiny bloodstain out of my shirt. my tears drip unto it as I hold it under cold water. I hate stains they make me anxious. I think about all the times I've been here feeling like this. I still remember the worst, I will never forget it.
I was young, I think I might've been seven. After my father showed me our factories I lost him. I didn't know what I was doing, I was afraid I would never find him again. I remember the funny accent he had. He said: 'Aren't you abi rich to be here fella?' I turned around. It was a beautiful boy with dirt on his face and clothes I wasn't familiar at all with. 'my name is Silas.' he said while sticking out his emaciated hand. 'Cat got your tongue?' he asked. I grabbed his hand and said. 'not yet, my name is Yves.' 'Where youh parents?' he asked. I shrugged. He nodded. 'You an orphan eh? I shook my head. 'I lost my father.' 'well let find them' he nodded. and there our friendship began. He taught me about the lower class and how they live, I taught him reading, writing, but also chess and other things. When my father found out about it he was very mad at first but after a little time he calmed down which seemed very suspicious. I remember going to visit him again, he didn't show up to our designated spot in the woods between his and my home. So I decided to go to his family, It turns out he had drowned on a place where many children swim, I was inconsolable, I was ten at that time. It was the first time I talked back to my father, why you might ask? Silas was deathly afraid of water and swimming.
I never get my dad, why does he hurt the people he supposedly loves. I want to sigh when I feel a sharp pain in my chest. I try again, I can't sigh, I take a deep breath, which also hurts and walk towards the mirror. I wipe the blood on the side of my mouth off. My cheekbone is a reddish purple. I want to grab my enamel from my dresser when I grab a pile of papers. I look at it. 'The woes of being foolish' It's a short story about a foolish young rich man, it has many psychological, philosophical and sociological themes. I smile. If this is a disgrace to you father, get ready for this.
I breathe through my bottom teeth. I can't seem to get enough oxygen. I'm reading a book while Enoch, Eleanor and Frances are playing tennis. Enoch yells that he needs help. I laugh and grab a racket. 'Only for a minute.' I say. He smiles and thanks me. Eleanor and Frances were both at the ball, her parents too, they enjoyed it a lot. They don't know father has lectured me about it. Lecture, what a weird word I use for something like that. I don't learn anything from it, than it shouldn't be lecture right? I feel nasseaus, I recognise alcohol doesn't help with feeling better when you're black and blue but I didn't care this morning. I feel like I can't breathe, I feel myself collapsing unto my knees. 'Are you alright?!' Enoch asks. I nod but I feel my consciousness slipping away.
I wake up in my bed. I want to sigh but it hurts like hell. I walk towards the mirror very quietly, the Frances and company are sitting just outside of the room. I lift the U my shirt, my whole right chest the right side of my chest is completely blue mixed with a wine red and a blueberry purple, I breathe in sharply as that is the only way not to hurt myself. I feel the tears in my eyes as I look to the blue stain on my very own body. I know why this is, when I fell back down when my dad was angry I fell unto the corner of one of his dressers or whatever they are. Frances comes into the room. 'Shall I get a doctor?' she asks. I shake my head, 'It's nothing, just a bruise from falling down the stairs yesterday.' 'you need a doctor' Eleanor says. 'Exactly' Enoch says. 'No.' I answer. 'Yes!' Frances says 'no bloody doctors!' I scream while putting on my shirt and coat. 'I'm going to London, I need some h herbal tea, I'll be back.' I say. I grab my hat and leave.