I arrived home. There waits the pompous portrait of me. I hate that guy with every fiber of my body. He looks arrogant, bitter and judgemental. It's like they painted my father's essence in my body. I must say it's possible they did because my father commissioned this after he said that the other ones I had were not authorative enough. I put my coat on the rack. I walk into my library and pour a glass or bourbon. I look at my mail. A letter from my dad asking me to come back home. And of course a letter from France. I think about not opening it but I know that I won't succeed. I put it back on the table. I want to grab a book but I decide I should read it. I tell myself that after that I will read one of the old books I used to read for Frances. I will read Alice in wonderland after it.
My dearest Yves,
I don't want to stop our correspondence. I'm positive you feel the same, well, at least I hope so. I must say your letter made me realise the errors of my ways, I wish there were a way to fix this. but I would get it if that is too much work. I will still be here for you Yves. For problems, worries and all in between.
I will always be here. I wish this hadn't happened. I never meant to hurt you. I don't know how to respond to be honest. But I love you.
Your Dearest, Your rain,
Cyril Courtenay
I was ten. Frances was seven, We were both happy children, even if I already knew too much about this world. I loved my sister more than anything in the world. We had each other, we didn't need anything else. I would read and write, she would listen and draw. She could draw brilliantly. My father was already cruel to me, he had never liked me. My grandmother said I reminded him of himself. My grandfather hardly ever talked to me. I still don't know but then again, he hardly talked to my father. Akiva would probably say that their relationship was not unlike ours. I remember the first time Frances saw me with a black eye, she cried so hard, after that I made sure to spent the next few days after being hit in my own room. Just so she wouldn't know. That's where I started reading philosophy. That's where I slowly started to lose my faith but I wouldn't dare question it with my father present. I remember finding my mother's enamel, it helped concealing the bruise. I could read Alice in wonderland while for Frances. Whether I was okay or not. It saved my relationship with her. I was so happy to have found it.
Sorry for the short chapter