Chapter Nine- That of Poison and Roses

Nine

Grief.

Grief.

Grief.

Yes, I’ll blame it on the grief. 

It’s the grief that’s preventing me from feeling hate.

This is what I was taught.

The Aldridge family called for peace many years ago, and they stabbed us in the back.

We are supposed to hate them, and all they stand for.

But it’s quite hard to hate the family that has given me such a gorgeous room to stay in.

It must be the grief. It’s making me vaguely like this room. 

It is quite beautiful though. 

The floor is a dark wood, which pops against the walls which are white with the faintest pink tint. Fine golden details decorate the room, namely the chandelier in the middle and the sconces on the walls. A poster bed with a lacy pink and gold canopy is set against the back wall, decorated with more pillows than I feel like counting. There’s a small wood desk in one corner, with a towering armoire next to it, and a full-length mirror. On the other side of the room, another door gives way to a spacious bathroom, constructed entirely in white marble with veins of pink and gold. 

It’s luxurious to say the least, and while I’m used to luxury at home, I still wasn’t expecting this.

The Aldridge family hated us. 

Hexes, they’re probably the whole reason behind my father’s death in the first place.

So why?

One thing that’s for certain, though, is that we’re staying longer than originally expected.

The Aldridge family must just want to kill us off one by one.

The idea I had earlier is now brought to the forefront of my mind.

Do I really want to do this?

Am I really going to try and find my father’s murder?

The task is daunting at best, impossible at worst. I know there’s an Aldridge behind this, but anything beyond that is lost on me. 

And am I sure that I want to investigate the death of a man who never really cared about me?

He didn’t not care, but he didn’t care.

His relations with his daughter wouldn’t boost the economy of the country. Our fights couldn’t bring him scorn if no one found out. 

I can feel the tears coming, and I allow myself to cry, just this once. There’s no one here, no one who can judge me right now.

I cry for my father,

but I cry even more for the broken little girl he left behind.