FicWad

"Chrissopher! Get over here! I want to show you something!"

I sighed and humored my friend, walking to the spot she was pointing at on the ground. "What is it, Marie?" I asked, raising my eyebrows. "You just pointing to the ground."

"I am not!" Marie pouted, stamping her foot as emphasis. "Can't you see it, Chrissopher? It's right there!"

I shook my head at Marie, confused. "Marie, there's nothing there. It's just dirt."

Marie huffed and crossed her arms, something just learned a week ago. "He says he's insulted, Chrissopher. How could you insult my new friend?"

****

I watched as the carriage pulled away from my house, disappearing into the trees. I squatted down to the windowsill and rubbed the frost on the window just as the last glimpses of the carriage was seen.

"Do you think Marie will ever remember us?" Violet asked beside me, her breath tickling my ear. "Do you think she'll write?"

"I don't know, Violet," I said quietly, watching the trees sway in the rain. "I don't think she’s allowed to write to us."

Violet huffed and stood up on the windowsill, crossing her arms. "You know it's all your fault, right?" she asked while she scowled down at me. "She could still be here if it wasn't for you."

I frowned as Violet turned to stare out my window. "It's not my fault she couldn't keep a secret, Violet," I said quietly, my frown morphing from one of anger to genuine sadness. "You're lucky you're still here."

"I would bring you with me." Violet stepped off my windowsill and walked to the bookshelf of maps I had. "Wouldn't it be cool if you and I could travel the world, Christopher?" she asked dreamily as she sat in the reading chair by my bookshelf. "We could go see Marie!"

Shaking my head, I shuffled to Violet. "I don't think we'll be seeing her for a long time, Violet," I whispered, sitting in the reading chair. "I think it'll just be you and I from now on."

"Christopher!" a booming voice in the house rang out. "Come downstairs, please."

I walked out of my room and trudged down the stairs. Violet met me at the last step, but I shooed her off before I could get in trouble for being late.

"Yes, Father?" I asked timidly as my head poked around the corner of the drawing room. The rain was picking back up, and I could hear it against the window panes.

"Marie won't be too happy that it's raining harder," Violet whispered in my ear. "She's afraid of thunderstorms, remember?"

"We had to send your sister off, son," my father stated flatly, taking a puff from his pipe. "Do you understand why?"

I nodded and recited the words Violet was whispering into my ear. "You sent her away because she had shown signs of a mentally unstable mind," I spoke, uttering the words adults wanted to hear. "She would only get worse from here."

“What a lie that is,” Violet whispered, her voice low, even for a whisper.

My father nodded, smiling as he puffed smoke from his pipe. "Yes, son. That is the right answer. Now why do you really think we sent her away to Saint Mary's?"

I ducked my head and rocked on my heels. "Because she was seeing things, father."

"She was seeing my friends, Mr. Moore," Violet growled.

"Imaginary people, yes. I don't want you to have any of that, got it?" my father warned, aiming his pipe in my direction. "You're too old as is, son, and I know you're already the center of trouble at school."

"Yes sir," I whispered, head still low. "You can rest assured that I see no imaginary people."

"Good. Run along now, son. I'm sure you have some studies to complete."

I nodded and quickly ran out of the drawing room, towards my room. Hot tears stung my eyes, and I couldn't let them fall around my family or the servants. Not with Marie just leaving.

"You realize you just lied, Christopher... Why do you lie?" Violet asked as I quickly shut the door and flopped on my bed, the tears flowing. "Are you afraid?"

I shook my head in the blankets, sniffling. "I just don't like lying, Violet," I whispered, voice heavy with tears. "With you, I have to lie to stay here. I need to be strong for Marie."

Violet smiled sadly and sat on the bed, silently pulling me into a hug. “It’ll be all right, Chris. We’ll be all right.”

I know what you're thinking.
Why aren't I in the My Chemical Romance or the poetry category?
Well... This has been bothering me for some time now, actually. I mean, seriously, I needed to get this out. I have no idea what the plot will be, who will be important and why, how long this will be, but I know this: I am writing this. I will.
Hope you like this,
FlyingSmoke

P.S. This Violet, in case you have actually read my oldest fiction, is not related to that Violet much. This one is... Well, you'll see.