Disclaimer- -insert witty disclaimer here-
Mr. Doyle-
I would say my heart is breaking if it hadn't been broken already.
These glass shards of my failure, of my broken heart, sting. They sting my hands as I try to pick them up and piece them together, desperate for some semblance of normality, for an illusion at very least. I am trying to fix this, whatever this is, when it was never really whole.
I always thought that this, whatever this is, I'm not even sure anymore, was normal. It was only the voices in my head that told me differently. Those hard, determined, resolutely evil voices.
My Virginia was a murderer. She was a witch and a child-killer. That's what they told me. I didn't believe them, for the longest time, but maybe the laudanum (such a beautiful thing, in its elegant brown bottle) weakened my resolve. Because now I am sure.
Virginia. Gemma.
Those names don't even sound alike, but when I think of one, the other resonates in the back of my mind. I think it started with how much they looked alike. Virginia, with her hair pulled back, looking as beautiful as always. A tiny Gemma, running towards her father, me, her red curls bouncing behind her.
My angels.
Or those that I thought of as my angels. My Virginia, who was not. My Gemma. My baby girl, who may be heading the same way as my wife.
I cannot let that happen. She will still be an angel, my angel, and I will not let anything happen to her. I will let go of that brown bottle, and the voices that reassure me that what might be maddened ravings are indeed sane. I will do anything to stop this from happening to her.
I will do anything for her, because she is my everything.
A/N: So there. I wrote this very quickly because I don't feel very well, but I need to keep to my schedule. I know, I have OCD. But whatever. If you review, you can be my best friend. Only a click away.
See you in six days!
Much Love,
Scales.