How could I make my own children hate me? How could I make children that once loved me dearly want me to die? Did I really choose billions of dollars over my own flesh and blood? How could I poison them? Why did I poison them?
I stare down at the cryptic card in my hand and sigh. I deserve these letters I get every so often. They remind me how I turned into the worst mother that ever walked the earth.
What mother locks her children in an attic for three years? Three years! I should die! I need to be punished. And I got away with it! Why, My Lord, do you let me live on with this guilt?
Why have I not been punished by The Lord? Is my punishment to live the rest of my life in guilt, in shame?
Will I win my Children's forgiveness, the last two surviving? How did our perfect little family so quickly? We were a perfect family; the neighbours envied our perfect looks, our love and care for each other. How they would surely laugh if they knew the state of our family now with three dead, three alive, two against one.
Surely Cathy and Chris have it on their hearts to forgive their mother who only did what she could. I did not know at the time that my father would punish my children for my mistakes long ago.
Oh how I wish that Christopher had not walked into Foxworth Hall those many years ago and took my heart into his hand. Why had my grandfather had another child after my father?
Even if I have no right anymore to wonder about my children who are left, I still do. Do they have a love life?
Does Cathy have an interest in that doctor she lives with? Are they lovers perhaps? Has Chris been with any women? Surely he has gotten many glances from women. If he's anything like my beloved Christopher he has surely picked a beautiful young woman and has gotten married by now.
If these cryptic letters stopped coming I may break. Could Cathy ever find any love left in her beautiful heart?
I deserve to die away in the attic like Cory. Die like Carrie did. Die like I intended for them to do.
I quickly found a note pad and a pen and sat to write a letter to all who may care.
Bart my love, I have hid from you secrets I didn't want you to ever find out. Maybe if it weren't for this letter you may have never knew but I'm telling you now. As you know I was married once before. What you didn't know is that I had four children with my first love. We had four very beautiful children. When my dearly loved husband perished I had nowhere to go. With no skills how could I, a single mother possibly take care of four children on her own. I was deep in debt and was desperate. Helpless I turned to my parents who had disowned me for marrying Christopher my first husband. Many letters late, I finally got a response. My father did not know of my children so I arranged it with my mother to hide them until my father passed away, as you know because of his heart condition. Years past and he still lived on. I was out of hope so I decided to give them a little poison, just enough to make them a little sick so I could sneak them out one by one. My plan failed horribly. My youngest son by the name of Cory got seriously ill and died on the way to the hospital. Not knowing what to do I have thrown his tiny body into a creek and I still cry in guilt every night. Finally my father died and I was overjoyed. Then reading his will learned that in his will he stated he would not allow me to get my inheritance if I had children as you know. Nine months later the three children I had left were gone from the attic. How they got out I still don't know to this day but they did. Recently I have found out my youngest daughter, the twin to dear Cory, has died. She wanted to be with her brother and die the same. She poisoned herself and passed away. Feeling as if I need to be punished severely for being the worst mother that aver lived, I need to die. Please my dear Bart, can you please be so kind as to tell my children left, by the names of Christopher and Catherine Sheffield, that I may not understand their pain to the extent they do but I understand their hate for me and I cannot live another day being hated by my own children and being in deep guilt and sorrow for what I did to them. Tell them I love them and am going to rot in hell for my actions.
With Much Love, Corrine
Placing the note on the bed I sneak into the attic room and sit on the bed my children once laid on. Walking up the stairs I stare at the once colourful paper flowers hanging on the wall. Sighing I go back to the room and try and imagine what it was like for them to only see this room for three whole years.
Taking the knife I slice my wrists and watch the blood pour from the cuts and soak the sheets. I lie down and watch as the blood flows out, non stop. Unsatisfied I move in excruciating pain that feels so good, I slice my face over and over until I'm sure I look gruesome. Tears and blood mix as I cry and slice all over my body. So much blood is flowing. I feel so much pain. I feel weak, A good thing.
Finally I stab the knife in my heart and I loose conciseness. Peace finally. I can see Christopher, Cory, and Carrie. They all turn from me and they watch as I'm pushed into the eternal flames of hell.