Love

Tale of Thomas post Turncoat.

I saw my goofy, crazy younger brother, Harry today at the Zoo. I told him what I had become, a monster. He is so naive to believe that I could be anything other than what I was born to be. He doesn't know how much it hurts to deny what is inside of me and I and so very tired. I was nervous about the meeting, what would he do when I told him

Lara is delighted by my "improvement". She moved me out of my apartment and back into Raith Manor. She say's that I am a lord of the House of Raith and I shouldn't live like a peasant anymore. I have a lavish suite that adjoins my fathers; Lara said that is because it is the finest that there is in Raith Manor, nicer then even her own complex of rooms. With Father under her thrall, it is safe to be near him. Sometimes, the look in his eyes when he looks at me invokes both terror and some pity. I know that he hates me more than anyone else in the universe.

I ask myself why he didn't kill me years ago. Me, the son of the woman who stripped everything away from him, bringing him low, He doesn't even hate Lara, his mistress and puppet-master, hell! For all I know about the man, he is probably proud of her for living up the family tradition.

She takes me out to Zero and arranges sweet young things for my pleasure. Lost little girls who came to the big city to find fame, acceptance, a sense of belonging, in a word they were looking for love, I take what they have to give me consume them. She takes joy in my feeding; saying that keeping them all alive for a lifetime is servitude, however short is cruel of me. She thinks that I should show more mercy and take their lives. Justine is still Lara's personal assistant, she doesn't look at me any more, and her eyes are always downcast

He still loves me though, the way he hurts me with his looks. I could have handled his anger, his contempt yet he wounds me with his compassion. Lara says that loyalty to the family is the most important thing in the world. Harry shows me everyday what family is supposed to be about and what to expect. He reminds me sometimes of my dim memories of out mother sometime. She would come into my room late at night, still covered in the marks of father's passion all over her, and hold me telling me how much she loved me. She would make me feel safe, which was very rare in the House of Raith. I remember her telling me the best bed-time stories, much to my father's disapproval, he didn't want his son and heir to be a silly dreamer, with his head stuffed full of tales of courageous heroes battling cruel tyrants. I recognize the irony in retrospect.