July 3rd, 1778
It has been almost two years now, since he'd left. I'd told myself I'd get over it, but whenever this date crawls closer on the calender I start to feel unwell. It's quite bad now, whenever he comes accross my mind I just- Oh dear here it comes again. It's a painful and strange sensation, an aching coldness in my chest, but a boiling hot feeling in my head.
It was so abrupt, really. Wherever did I go wrong? I thought I rose him well. I only left for a few months, and when I came back it was almost like he never knew me at all. He was a bright child, yes, a quick mind and sharp attitude, a thirst for daring adventure in his bright blue eyes but a kind glow of honesty and generosity in his heart. Every day he'd come back with new tales of the people he'd meet in the countryside and the friends he'd made.
I tried to warn him about us - how we should never bond with humans. But he never understood that it was only fair. I once told him to not visit that boy anymore- Davie, was it? I told him that it would only hurt him in the end. But he never listened. Yes, I do remember him as being very stubborn. He would not accept that we were different. Once his dear friend had passed, he would not speak to me. I told him he should have known better and listened to me.
His reply still haunts me to this day.
"How would you know?! How would you know how it feels to have someone you care for ripped away from your grasp?! You wouldn't! You wouldn't because you've never had a single friend in your entire, lonely exsistence!"
...Incompetent boy.
After that, I decided that he'd need more discipline. I introduced him to people like us. People who could live forever. People who wouldn't die on you. But he refused to socialise. He was an adolescent around about then, and he did whatever he could to rebel against me. Running off with young human girls every other sunday, coming home late. The time he was in the house, he locked himself in his room doing god knows what. I tried seeking help on how to deal with this deliquent but all I got was vague looks and "Boys will be boys". Well, I'd say! Boys will be boys because they can't be gentlemen! He was a train wreck back then. Every word of sense I tried to speak to him was just replied with and insolent remark or just complete silence. I didn't know what to do with him.
And well, one day he told me that he'd had enough. That he was leaving. I didn't accept it. "After all I've done for you?!" I said, "And this is your thanks?!"
"You did nothing but complain and tell me how usless I was!"
"Well I wouldn't have to complain if you weren't so busy causing havoc every other week!"
"There you go AGAIN. Complain, complain, COMPLAIN. I swear, that is the only thing you ever do, old man!"
"I raised you from when you were an infant!"
"THERE YOU GO, PULLING THE PARENTAL GUILT CARD. EVERYONE KNOWS YOU ONLY "LOVE" ME BECAUSE YOU WANT TO PLEASE YOUR STUPID QUEEN!"
"HOW DAREYOU-"
"YOU KNOW WHAT?! I'VE WASTED ENOUGH TIME ALREADY. I'M LEAVING."
Of course I tried to stop him. Gathered my men. It was a gruesome battle. He was stronger than I thought. I was wounded. I guess I was too weak. I couldn't prevent him from leaving. I couldn't stop my young boy. I couldn't stop my young boy, with bright blue eyes, who'd grown into a man,with a thirst for independance, as I watched him turn the other way and walk, into the distance, through the rain and mud.
I wanted to say that I did love him, that he was the finest young man that I'd ever seen. But I guess that my own stubborness got it the way.
Will we ever go back to the way we were before? Or will I have to live with eternal guilt?
I guess only time can tell.