Dear Ciel-
Sometimes, when you smile, I can make believe you actually care for me. All I see, you think, is the brilliant smile, and delighted laugh. Ciel, I may seem like it, but I'm not as stupid as you believe me to be. I can see the anger behind that glittering grin; hear the frustration in your laugh.
You think I don't notice the small, almost unconscious way you turn to your butler, like a satellite. You think I don't notice the heated, lustful glances he sends your way, and the way you blush and bluster when you notice. You, however, do not notice some things.
You do not notice the triumphant smirk in his red eyes when you tell him to send me on my way. You do not notice the coldness in his eyes when your back is turned. You do not see the calculating look that takes over whenever something not in the life he has planned for you happens.
Those eyes, Ciel…they're not of this world, this much I can tell. Do you know? Did you yet realize that your butler…isn't human? I think he might know, Ciel, that I know. I can tell from that smirk, that awful gleam of his eyes in the candle light…What is he, Ciel? What has he done to you?
Every time I see you, you seem to settle into his gloved hands a bit more, him turning you against me, against everyone, against your very humanity. Ciel, I beg of you, please, get away from him. He has plans for you, I don't know what, but he does, I swear it!
I'm scared, Ciel. I don't want to lose you again, please, stay with me. I know it may not be out of love ore even affection, it may be simply from a misplaced sense of honor or duty, but please Ciel- you are the one person who I truly care about. Stay with me. I need your strength. Love me, tolerate me, hate me- I need something from you.
Please Ciel. I may never send this letter. In fact, I know I won't but somehow, know I don't want you to leave. Maybe your butler will be able to tell you.
Maybe I'm being silly. Maybe I'm delusional. Thinking your butler isn't human, is evil, these thoughts could land me in an asylum. I know this; I know this isn't true; it's just misplaced jealousy…Isn't it?
Yet I can't shake the feeling that misfortune stands behind you- in the form of a black-clad butler.
All my love, Ciel, if you ever do get this-
Elizabeth Middleford.