Hey readers, I'm back from vacation so I hope I haven't kept you guys waiting too long. While I was on vacation, I kept getting all these new ideas for my fanfic so I was so eager to get to a computer and update. Word of advice: when in a writer's block, take a vacation from your writing and you will find ideas. Well, I'm back and I hope you will enjoy this next addition. Thank you to all my readers and reviewers for your support.

Chapter 9

Forgotten

She was in her little brown frock, the only one she always loved to wear in her childhood. The sun was warm and invigorating and the field of flowers looked enticing to wander about like the carefree child she was. Her hair was dusty, but neatly braided with strands standing out everywhere. It was only morning and the air was sparkling with that welcoming breeze. She wanted to take off her boots and run in the field in her bare feet, but her mother would have scolded her for doing so.

"Christiane! Christiane!" she heard the mispronunciation of her name echo across the field. Before her eyes, a tiny little figure clothed in a child-size red dress with little bouncing copper-brown curls come rushing toward her big sister. Even though there were times when she found it annoying to mispronounce her name, she grew fond of her little sister's nickname for her. It was cute and charming.

The little girl with bouncing curls and magnificent rare violet or lavender eyes came rushing toward her. The field of flowers separating to part ways for the child to reach her destination. Such a joyous and innocent face upon the little girl. In her small fists, the older sister could spot tufts of flower petals and leaves. Once the little one was close enough, the older sister immediately scooped up the little girl into her delicate arms.

"Sofia, what is it?" the older sister asked of the little girl, hugging her tiny body to her. Their tiny porcelain faces touching each other in gentle contact. "Mama will be mad if you dirty yourself too much. Now what's in your hands?"

Her little sister, Sofia slowly opened her tiny fist and there lying in her palm was a perfectly preserved little flower. A tiny flower with extremely long stems and at the very peak of it was a tiny white budding flower with a golden and purple center. A Forget-Me-Not.

She plucked the little bud from her sister's palm and making sure Sofia was secure in her other arm, observed the flower discovered by her little sister. "Sofia, do you know what this is?" she asked letting the flower fall back into Sofia's sight again.

"It's a flower!" Sofia clapped her chubby hands together in joy proving the childish innocence she possessed.

Christine laughed bouncing her sister up and down with each giggle. "Well, Sofia, it is a flower. A special flower. It's called a Forget-Me-Not."

"I won't forget you, Christiane," Sofia misunderstood what her sister meant by what the flower was called.

"No, no, Sofia," Christine touched her baby nose with an index finger, giggling. "That is what this little flower is called. When you give someone this kind of flower, it means you don't want them to forget you, hence it's name."

Sofia gently plucked the little flower back into her hands. Her chubby hands balancing the flower like it were a treasure She seemed to be observing the bud before she handed the flower back to Christine. "Here, Christiane, I want you to have it. So that you won't forget me."

Christine graciously grasped the tiny flower in her fingers and couldn't help but spill a sweet smile on Sofia. "Oh, Sofia, I will never forget you. This can be our flower. In case either of us forget each other we will look back upon this flower and then we'll be able to remember each other."

A bubbly face and sweet smile found its way to Sofia who clapped her hands yet again and cried in cheer at the idea. Christine set her back on the ground and they walked back to their little cottage home. Sofia more of prancing like a little nymph.

"Yay! Christiane, will we forget each other?" Sofia inquired as they trudged along the dirt path leading back to their home.

"No, as long as we have this flower, I'll always remember you."

Christine's eyes shot wide open. She found herself short of breath as she jolted up in bed. It was only a dream. She found herself in her room, laying in her canopy. Good thing that Raoul was deep sleeper as he was snoozing away in his own dreams next to her.

There was an uneasiness about Christine; she had no yearning to return back to the bed or to her dreams. That dream felt so real, so present despite the fact it now existed only in the past. But it shamed Christine that she would forget something like that; even though it was long ago it was still a promise.

Smoothly slipping out of bed, she wrapped a night robe around her. She quietly crept out of the room shared between her and her husband. Her bare feet making a slush-sort of noise upon the wooden-paneled floor, but it wasn't enough to stir Raoul from his sleep.

Softly closing the door behind her and checking to make sure the halls were clear, Christine quietly slithered around the dark, feeling her around down the hall of doors, till she was sure she found the correct one. It was the last door at the end of the hallway, by the staircase. It was a room barely used, but it had use for something.

Twisting the knob, Christine's ears welcomed the sound of a door needing oil on its hinges. It was still silent enough as to not wake anyone in the house from their sleep. On one side inside the door, Christine managed to find a lantern and a few matches near it to light it. Being as cautious as she could she lit match and illuminated the lantern making sure it was bright enough for her to find her way around the dark.

Before her, inside of the room, behind the door was a wooden staircase with rusty nails keeping the planks together. This place needed some refurbishing, but it wouldn't stop Christine from what she wanted to accomplish. Gripping the aged wooden rails, Christine, being as silent as a mouse crept up the creaky stairs. She was careful not to injure herself and to be aware of what needed serious repair.

Once she reached the top of the stairs, she held her lantern up to her eye level and she knew she was in the room she wanted to be in.

It was an attic filled with many of the de Changny memorabilia and treasures long forgotten. Chests and closets lingered on the old walls and right in front of Christine was a hexagonal window that looked out upon the entire de Changny estate. She took her lantern and explored the attic, searching every corner for the object she was longing for. Portraits of ancestors and late relatives gathered dust and spider webs decorated the walls. It was for sure that not even the maids would dare wander up to this room.

When she had reached the other end of the attic, she found exactly what she had been needing to find this entire adventure. It was a small box, nearly the size of a hat box, sitting on an antique shelf where dust gathered like a party. But the small hat box Christine had been looking for, looked in tip-top shape with only dust as its companion.

Christine remembered this box; she brought it with her to the manor when she had married Raoul, but she had long forgotten this box up here in this attic where it was sat alone. It was she herself who brought this little box here and placed it on this very shelf. How could she have possibly left this treasure here or have allowed herself to do such a thing?

Setting the lantern down by her feet, she tugged the little hat box out from its resting place. Dusting it off and blowing all the years of dirt and spider webs off from the box, Christine kneeled down on the floorboards and she lifted the lid of the box off from its place. The box used to be pink with little flowers painted with the most detailed colors on it, but was now aged to a faded color of what it use to be.

Around her, she was sure she felt the presence of ghosts haunting her, almost begging to be released from their limbo. Lifting the lid, she was sure only more memories were about to flood the room and stain the dark corners she thought she had long forgotten and had long left behind. But by resurrecting this hat box, the pain only deepened in her soul.

Inside she found tucked into a little corner, a small, dried, but preserved Forget-Me-Not. It was still lavished with its color the same as the day Sofia had found the flower. Despite the years that had passed, it still retained its glamour and its effect on Christine. Gently tugging the bud from its resting place, Christine placed it into her palm. Fifteen long years had passed since that faithful day when she had lost her sister at that train station.

"......will we forget each other?"

"......I will never forget you, Sofia."

A tear leaked from Christine's tear ducts. For years, she did try to forget that horrible incident and accept that her little sister was dead. However she violated that promise and attempted to forget her sister. Now the shame surged through her because she had promised Sofia not to forget her and yet she had broken that promise a long time ago.

Setting aside the little flower back into the box, she spotted one last treasure from her past that she had attempted to bury. Slowly and cautiously, she lowered her fingers into the box and lifted out a small silver chain, free from rust or any damages that the years might have caused. But at the end of that chain, she pulled out a small silver oval-shaped locket with a French lily engraved upon the necklace. It had been so long since she had last seen this locket that she nearly forgot that it even existed.

She unclasped it and starred in grief at the tiny portrait that laid inside. It was a small miniature portrait of Sofia with her little copper-brown curls and her violet eyes. Her face captured that innocence that Christine remembered her sister by. It truly captured her personality and her spirit, but even then, it was still just a painting. Even from all the years that it spent inside that hat box, the portrait retained its brilliant color and detail as if it were still brand new.

When she and Sofia had been younger, their father had a painter create two portraits of the girls and then had the tiny portraits placed inside two oval-shaped lockets with a French lily engraved upon it. Christine remembered how her father had given her the locket with Sofia's portrait in there and had given Sofia the one with Christine's portrait in it. It had cost a fortune for the lockets, but their father knew how close the girls were to each other and had given them those lockets to remember each other by, forever.

But Christine had attempted to forget her sister, attempted to leave her sister buried in the past, almost truly dead even in spirit but it seemed to only scream at her the more she tried to forget. For years she had tried to convince herself that her little sister was dead, but she couldn't find the strength to believe that.

Tucking the locket into her hand, she quietly cried.

Sofia, I'm so sorry.

Hey, I hope you're not too disappointed with this chapter, but I thought it was a good idea to shift the story to see where Christine was at the moment in this whole tale. Don't worry the story does continue, but I hope you're not too bored with this yet and will continue to read. Till then, see you all later.