For everyone who is reading my work, thank you so much!

For now, everything's gonna be ugly so hold on to your seat. Also, let me know what you want to be added, I'm open for suggestions and criticisms.

DISCLAIMERS ARE APPLIED.

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Chapter 11: L'esprit de l'escalier

1914

Two years.

It has been two years since I last saw Edward.

Sitting on the porch, a mailman handed me a bunch of mail.

"Do I have one?" I joked.

"Certainly not."

The mailman was an old man. I think he is in his late 50's. He seemed very fatherly. He often finds me in this very same porch every single week that I find it difficult not to be acquainted with him. He seemed nice.

"Maybe some other time."

He chuckled. "You wait for a letter that you have no plans on writing back?"

"Perhaps." He lifted his hat then went to his bicycle before riding off.

I never communicated with Edward since I last saw him. I find it appropriate but I still feel bad about those unanswered letters that kept on coming from England.

Then three months ago, my monthly letters stopped arriving. I was getting worried but I rather feel like an imbecile for waiting. I did this. I should face the consequences. I deserved it.

I was doing the right thing, or maybe that's what I'm convincing myself to think.

I stood up and went on my way to my room. I pulled out an old antique box under my bed. I pulled out a gold skeleton key from my pocket. I opened the box then ran my fingers to the stacked envelopes.

He needed to live without me. I taught him how and maybe I should too. But I know that the moment I open those letters, my defenses might go crumbling down.

Why am I doing this? I think this is the best for the two of us.

I am unhealthy for our relationship.

I single-handedly destroyed my happiness. Stupid, aren't I?

I walked down the stairs finding my mother drinking tea in the kitchen counter.

The servants had a day-off today because it was a Sunday, meaning rest day. Charles was being a responsible employer that they get vacations every last Sunday of the month, the same day as their pay day so that they can relax. Maybe that's why my father is being a workaholic. Other than the fact that he was the sole provider of the family, he was also being a father to his company.

I walked towards Marie. I smiled at her.

"Having tea without me, Mother?"

"I always loved your company my dear."

Staying at home made a huge impact on me. I witnessed my mother's breakdowns. I often find her in the middle of the night, coming into my room, agitated.

My father and I often find ourselves worrying about my mother. Her situation is becoming worse and worse. It started with the crying, now it has evolved into screaming. What scares me is that the next day, Marie will act as if nothing happened. At times I even doublethink my thoughts about her situation or this so-called situation that she is in.

What makes it even more difficult is that she convinced that there is nothing wrong with her. She made us appear like we were blowing things out of proportion.

I looked out the window. The sky was getting cloudy.

I frowned. I have grown hatred towards pouring rain. I never had any good memories anymore with it after tainted by one. It was just one eventful stain of a memory that will always abhor me at the sight of anything rainy or wet when it comes to whether. The memory will always haunt me wherever I go.

The door opened. I knew those footsteps anywhere. It was Charles'.

My father just arrived home from work. He kissed me on my forehead then kissed my mother on the lips.

"Hello my beautiful wife." Marie giggled.

"You've always been the charmer Charles."

"Well, I'm just stating things the way I see it." He hugged her tightly.

It was getting uncomfortable for me that I just had to look away, blushing.

"Bella, may I talk to you for just a moment?" He was smiling but there's a hint of anxiety in his eyes.

"Of course, Father."

We made our way to the porch. It was already raining. My nose wrinkled at the smell and my skin started to form goosebumps.

"A great war has broken out."

"Really?" I gasped, frightened at the same time.

"Yes."

"Who are the sides involved?"

"Every country in this world is choosing a side already, either the so-called Axis or the Allies."

"What does this imply?"

"Business won't be going well in the next few years."

My father owns publishing houses all over America and England. If a war breaks out, the safety of our business abroad might get compromised. News will become difficult and controlled. The government or whoever's in authority might take advantage and confiscate what we have.

Suddenly, we heard a high-pitched scream.

Marie.

Charles' and I bolted to the kitchen. There we saw Marie's face tear-stained. She was wheezing.

"Get away from my daughter! You'll never get her!" She screamed at thin air.

Then she took a kitchen knife and held it with her right hand.

"Put the knife down Marie. Please. Put it down." I never heard my father's voice so weak and broken.

"NO!" Marie hissed. "You'll never take her."

Charles suddenly stood in front of me before pushing me away.

"RUN BELLA! CALL FOR THE POLICE!" He commanded.

I ran as fast as my legs could take me. I never looked back even after I heard a man's voice scream in terror.