Before we begin I'd like to clear up a few things. I was reading my reviews today and noticed that there were a few complaints (two to be exact) and I wanted to clear them up. I am not basing my story on any other story that comes before this. The fact that Erik was burned in a fire is something of my creation, I don't really care what Gaston writes, this is what I think what happened to Erik. I said that Erik was tired after two weeks, and somebody (yes you, AufdemOper) said, I thought the prince gave him three days. You forgot that Erik had been playing the piano and violin none stop for eleven days before that. So there, I've validated myself, now on with the story.

Lily continued to read:

I think (as I look back upon my letter) that my verbs were not in the best descriptive nature. I said, my mother screamed. I should tell you that my mother's scream was more than a scream, it was a horrible, piercing, sound. All of the anguish that could ever be mustered by a mortal was in that scream, and that is what broke me down. The doctors would not even look upon my face, but ordered that I must get out of their hospital.

My mother refused, unless there was something placed over my head. The doctors took a dirty pillowcase and shoved it into her hands. She did not bother to cut eyeholes, she dragged my along as fast as she could to not attract attention. I remember the fear I had when my father came home. I did not know what to expect, and what is feared most by anybody is the unexpected.

He came in and hugged my mother. He obviously noticed she had great fear within her, and asked what was wrong. She pointed at me. I still had the pillowcase over my head, but I was able to fashion eyeholes. My father looked at my mother and me quizzically. He came of and took off the pillowcase.

I cannot tell you the look in his eyes. If you've ever had a child lost to you, you would understand the look. It was past despair, it was past hatred, yet within reach of disgust. He violently shoved the pillowcase back onto my head and gave a scream.

"HE IS UGLY! OUR SON, OUR SON!" He screamed, over and over again.

"Father," I inquired, "What is wrong, can I not still be your son?" He was silent for a moment. I saw, between my eyeholes, that he thought about this question.

"Our son is dead." He said to my mother. I didn't quite understand him at my young age. I didn't know why he would say I am dead, when I was standing right in front of him. "I must go out, I will be back."

I watched him walk out that door, wondering if you would indeed come back. I looked to my mother for support, and she gave none. I walked up to her and asked her if father would be all right. Instead of consoling my like any other human being should, she shunned my. When a mother that we knew from around the village came by to ask if "poor Erik" had survived, my mother said no. I was to be kept in a closet, because a corpse was not fit for a bedroom.

That is what she demeaned me to, a corpse, nothing more. When father came back, he was drunk. I tried to stay out of his way, but he found me. He took my wrist and shook me, calling me hideous names as I cried in despair. He slapped me to shut me up, but not knowing anything else, I still cried. He picked me up and threw me. He didn't care where I landed, which was against the wall, as long as I shut up. I finally understood and stopped crying.

He seemed done for the moment, and I crawled into my closet and tried to sleep.

The doorbell rang. Lily did not notice it. She did not notice the pounding, but finally noticed when Sarah yelled her name. She wiped her face one last time as she opened the door. Sarah was about to pound again, and almost wasn't able to stop herself from hitting Lily.

"Oh, there you are, I was getting worried." Sarah said, feigning a smile.

"Sorry, I was in the back, I didn't hear you."

"So, are you ready?

"Yeah, sure, where do you want to go eat?" It turned out Sarah had made reservations at an extraordinarily posh restaurant. Sarah drove, and she did most of the talking in the car. Sarah wanted to know what was new with Lily over lunch, and then Lily was forced to talk. She couldn't wait for the movies so that Sarah had to be silent.

The whole time with Sarah was talking, Lily thought of Erik. It brought tears to her eyes a couple of times, and she had to excuse herself to go to the bathroom. She looked at herself in the bathroom mirror. What was wrong with her? She was crying over someone she had never met! This person could just be a joker, leaving a fake story. But there was so much sorrow in those words. She could feel his pain when she read them. It had to be real, but first and foremost, she had to get a grip and go through lunch with Sarah.

She cleaned herself up and went back to the table, feeling a tiny bit better.