Normal is not a word I am particularly fond of, especially when it comes to my family. Normal describes how my elder sister failed yet again at her most recent relationship and took her anger out on us at supper when she and father inevitably got into an argument over money. Normal describes how my younger sister acts as if she's a perfect doll that our parents can mold into whatever they think she should be. Normal also describes how my little brother has no friends except the butler and, thus, no social skills. Then, of course, normal also describes my mother's drinking habits, and my father's short temper. To be frank, I would take anything but the ordinary when it comes to my family these days. So many people would do anything — even kill — to become one of the Schnee family. I can only wonder why they fall for my father's illusion. It is a charming one, that I will not deny, but between what happens between him and mother — as well as the toll it has taken on all of us — I simply cannot fathom why people believe we are as good as gold. After all, everything that glitters is not always gold. When it comes to us, that is perhaps even more true. Family problems aside, the SDC has always engaged in underhanded business practices to squash the competition.

Even my revered grandfather did that; in fact, so far as I can tell, he was at them helm of it.

"Winter?" Two raps at my door and the unusual voice of my baby brother. I suppose it is becoming stranger and stranger for me to be home. "I scared…"

I wave Whitley in, a bit surprised to see him trembling. I do not usually associate my brother with being emotional, but even I know that is not rational. He is only a child, no matter what he may act to gain our father's praise.

"Cry it out," I tell him. That is what mother always told me as a child. "Come here, Whit."

I have not called him by his nickname in a long time; the closest I have come recently was calling him a twit to my teammates. In some ways, though I do not blame him for what we have all had to deal with, that may very well be true. I can only hope he will not turn out like our father. If anyone in my family is a twit, it would be him. He did marry his way into the family.

"Momma's in hospital…" Whitley whimpers out, sobbing into my lap.

I freeze, taking in a sharp breath that he does not notice. Mother has near perfect health; she even managed delivering all four of us within only a few hours and completely naturally. This is bad.

"What happened?" I ask, rubbing his back. "Did you hear something from father? Or has he gone with her?"

He sniffles and, for only a few horrifying seconds, I realise that my elder sister and I have always had a motherly role in the lives of both Weiss and Whitley. Not only that, but he's never seen anything that could break conceivably called scary. This is nothing short of terrifying. It has been ages since mother has even needed blood work. For mother to be admitted to the hospital, she must be in a —

"Klein says she drank too much," Whitley chokes out through sobs. "I don't get it, Win. Is momma sick?"

I can never tell him the truth, the faint voice in my head whispers. Not about myself being the child of an affair, and not about mother's alcoholism or father's abuse of her.

"Yes," I lie, waiting long enough for it seem plausible. The most overt lies always fly off the tongue, almost as if they are trying to protest their own use. "Mother has been a little sick these last few days and a drink probably turned hier improving condition back without warning. She will be okay, though, I promise."

Whitley swallows hard, his eyes puffy. "Thanks, Win…" He sniffs.

I cannot tell him what probably caused this. Last night, shortly after I arrived home, my elder sister left because she said she could not stay at home any longer. She will probably be back when father demands her to, but she left for New Yorkshire because of what happened. Father and mother had an explosive argument, Weiss was slapped several times in a day. Then, mother was punished in the worst way by her own husband after supper. I know he is not my father now, but knowing what he does to my mother haunts me. I wonder if, by chance, he too has figured out the truth about me.

"We will go visit her tomorrow," I tell him. I let out a small sigh of relief when Whitley perks up a tinge. "I am sure she wants to see us," I add. "I bet she misses you."

Though there is no doubt in my mind that mother misses us, saying it feels wrong with what I know. I hope I never have to tell my brother the truth. He already lives in such a fragile lie anyways.

"Ah. Your butler said he sent the kid to you."

I watch Blake Adel enter my room. I do not object, if only because I am sure he means well. Why else would he rush here after a tragedy like this?

"Is mother alright?" I ask him, if only for the sake of my brother.

Blake nods. "She just needs her blood flushed, that's all. At least, that's what it sounded like from what Jacques told me."

Whitley looks to him, still bleary eyed. The truth be told, I am just glad he does not understand most of what Blake is saying. He is still a kid. No kid should know what my mother is really going through. I wonder some days if I should, and I am an adult and a military recruit.

"Momma okay?" Whitley weakly rubs his eyes. "Okay okay?"

Blake nods. I know he is lying or at the very least seriously stretching the truth but I am glad for it. I do not want to be the only adult lying about things to this caliber of dire.

"Where's Weiss?" Blake goes on. He has never seemed more brisk, but I notice the exhaustion etched under his eyes and in his five o' clock shadow. He is drained at the very best. Seeing his humanity so clearly makes me question, yet again, how he is involved in the business he is. He is too nice for this. There is nothing else to it.

"She probably is in her room," I sigh, patting my brother's back. Blake nods shortly in understanding. "She may or may not know something has happened," I warn him.

Blake shakes his head. "So it goes," He says. I barely see it, but there is awful pain in his eyes.

How the hell did he get caught up in this when the rest of us never chose it and are dying from its consequences?