This story was actually supposed to be a one-shot, but stupid me I forgot to say it was. Since so many of you like it, I'll write a chapter 2. A big thank-you to everyone who reviewed and for your ideas!
Disclaimer: Nothing belongs to me expect this whole storyline idea.
AN: This chapter is told from Peter's POV
I leaned against the door frame and watched Susan. I saw the scene outside and my heart broke. For her. My little sister, I had tried so hard to protect from the bustard that should have loved her as daughter, even if she was not his own…
I knew. I knew the secret behind the whole thing. Mum and Dad don't know that I know, but I do and it's not so much of a secret now. I know of the affair that Mum had years ago. I know of the child that is not my father's.
Yet, I never questioned Susan. She had never felt like my half-sister, but my own flesh and blood. From the very first day I saw her, I loved her. But I feel guilt beyond anything for I also know of another secret. For Susan is not the first child from the affair my Mother had.
Susan had never felt like my half-sister, because she isn't my half-sister. She is my full sister. For I and Susan have the same father, but not the same father of Edmund and Lucy. I, Peter Pevensie was the first child to come from the secret affair, but my father doesn't know.
Then Susan came along and my father thought that it was strange that my mother was to have a child in October, for he had been away for three months around the New Year and Christmas period. I know what he must have thought it to be very unusual, for a pregnancy takes around 9 months.
Eventually he must have realized and from that moment on he had hated Susan. To make things worse, he became violent towards Susan and even made mother stop loving her.
I must explain the violent part of it all. It started when Susan had been around eight years old and I was nine. I remember mother being in the kitchen, while the Susan and I had sat on stools in front of the kitchen bench. My father had been outside playing with a five-year-old Edmund and Lucy had been upstairs.
Mother was making cookies and Susan asked if she and I could help. She hesitated for a moment and said we were still too young to cook. I was feeling rather bored and I felt like doing something mischievous.
When mother had her back turned, I had grinned at Susan took a fist full of flour and dumped it over her head. She had gasped, but also grinned. She had picked up a small jug that was full of watery flour and dumped it over my head. I had laughed, seizing more flour and threw it at her.
So began our flour fight, until mum had lost patience trying to stop us and had run outside to get father. I had seen him first standing in the doorway and had stopped when I saw his fist clutch up, in anger.
"Come on Peter," Susan had said, "You don't want to be beaten by a girl, do you?"
She reached to seize more flour, but I had grabbed her small wrist and shook my head. She had turned and saw father standing at the door. She had winced and moved closer to me.
I should have grabbed her hand and ran at that moment, because he had moved forward and seized one of Susan's flour-covered piggy tails. He pulled her off the stool and roared in her ear, "WHAT IN THE WORLD DO YOU THINK YOU ARE DOING?"
"Dad," I had said, "It's my fault too-"
But all my father had said to me was to shut-up. "YOU ARE IN SO MUCH TROUBLE" he had yelled at my younger sister. Ignoring her begging to let go of her hair he had pulled her out off the kitchen. I had jumped off the stool and was about to run after them when my mother had closed the door.
"Mummy," Edmund had said, "Is Susan in big trouble?"
"Yes, dear," said my mother, sighing, "She was very naughty."
"But it's my fault too," I insisted, but mother wouldn't listen.
"Peter, will you take Edmund out to play, while I clean this up."
I couldn't argue, so I obeyed and took my little brother outside. All afternoon I hadn't seen Susan. My father had taken her somewhere and I had felt so guilty because it was me who had started the whole situation. That night I had been walking upstairs, I walked past the girls' room and saw her sitting on her bed.
She was quiet and her clothes had fading flour on them.
"Susan?" I had said quietly. She didn't look up, but I approached her. I had sat down next to her and waited for her to say something. But she didn't.
"Susan," I said again. I put my hand under her chin and turned her face towards mine. When I saw the other side of her cheek, I pulled back in shock.
There was a black bruise on her cheek. Large and black. All I remember next was Susan bursting into tears and I could no nothing but hold my little sister until the sobs stopped and she had fallen asleep.
I snapped out of my memories when I heard Edmund come running down the stairs.
"Dad's back," he said excitably, "Dad survived the war. He's alive."
I watched him pounce out the front door.
I smiled at Edmund's excitement. But I turned my attention back to Susan. I approached her. I put a hand on her arm.
"Do you think I'm a bad person for wishing that he died?" she asked me
"No," I said quietly. I turned her away from the window and held her to me, with every kind of love I could master. I ran my fingers through her raven hair and kissed the top of her head.
I heard her sigh and whisper, "What going to happen?"
"I don't know," I told her. But what I did know was that this time I wasn't going to let father touch her or tear her to pieces.
Chapter 3 soon! Please Review!