-Note: I have not played Chrono Phantasma, thus, there might be some errors in Carl's character. Just bear with me. Also posted on my Tumblr-
I feel as though every time I see a flower, I think of her. Not like it is necessarily a bad thing, of course, as she is on my mind most of the time, but instead of a nice feeling, all I feel is anger. Anger at father, at the thought I am just a child who can't possibly do anything, much less choose the right path. At the hallow being her outwardly appearance is, that I might never see her heartwarming smile ever again. It is not her fault, though. She, we, never deserved this. She can tell how I feel when I see the flowers, I can tell, but she never says a word. I would suppose that she is doing it for my own safety, as I might accidently lash at her in my emotionally unstable state.
Every time we come across a clover, she would snatch it up, and put it in my hands. I give off a radiant smile, but all it holds is dark connotations. We are the Clovers, but frankly, all we have had for the longest of time is misfortune. We were once the most joyous family, I was the acclaimed prodigy, Sister a charming young woman with shining potential. We were once happy. But that is almost hard to swallow, looking at us now. When Sister looks away, I always crush the clover in my hands, and send it flowing in the wind.
My feet are tired, my eyes droop, but in the end it does not matter. This is for us, isn't it, Sister? We can get revenge on Father. We can pretend to mend the wounds, and continue forth. Oh, what a wonderful time we could have. But that is all in theory. As hard as it is to admit, I cannot go on with the hopeless aspiration that I can take my anger out on him. I cannot go on with the thought what is left of Sister is, to be frank, a doll, which pains me to say.
Sometimes, I wonder how selfish I am. I should have kept my place, forgotten all about Father. But something holds me in place, something I can hardly escape. All these doubts and hatred isn't good for me, and especially not for her. She isn't meant for fighting, but we still go on. And I guess, with my personality, we always will.
A sorry is in order, I suppose.
-Reviews and criticisms are encouraged. Sorry if this was written wierd, I was rambling while writing it. Also, sorry for the awful title, I couldn't really think of what to name it.-