burned.

letter three; mother dearest

Dear Sienna,

Today is my mother's first death anniversary. I hated her. All she ever wanted for me was to marry a handsome, powerful man with plenty of money and have lots of children and a big family. Her intentions were so good, but I despised everything about it.

She wanted me to marry Stefan Sullivan, can you believe that? Your ex! She was so angry when she saw that Stefan was trying to court you last year. She was downright furious! She demanded that I should cut all ties with you when she learned that. But fortunately, my father rejected that idea. But for the wrong reasons. He said that I should be as close to you as possible because you were a Hastings. One of the most powerful and influential families of our ton. My brother was the only one who told me that he knew how much I valued our friendship.

He didn't know how much, of course.

He doesn't know how much I want to wake up next to you every day until the end of time, your face being the first thing I see in the morning. I want to kiss your soft lips and run my hands through your caramel hair and tell you how enormous my love for you is.

You were brilliant today, steering me away from things that reminded me of my mother.

Only if you knew I was the one who pressed the softly quilted pillow down her face and watched as she struggled, watched as life left her lungs in a matter of seconds. She deserved to die. She was trying to keep you away from me. I will never stand for that. It was good that nobody suspected me of her murder because mother's health had been declining for quite a while. The doctors had already said that she didn't have much longer to live before I killed her.

Mother's biggest wish was that she could see my brother Orion and I married to nice families before she took her last breath.

My mother was so cruel as to try to deprive me of you, so it was only correct of me to deny her dying wish.

My father and Orion are discussing potential marriage candidates for me. I would be with you or not be with anyone than being with the men my family choose.

My hands are shaking as I'm writing this letter. Hah. My eyes are feeling dull, and my head is burning. Funny, isn't it? I suppose I do miss Mother a bit, even though it was me who murdered her.

My hands are starting to hurt, and my corset feels too tight now, so I think I'll finish this letter here.

I love you,
Emilia