I was really happy that he wasn't home when I happened upon something I really thought I shouldn't have. It was a diary and it was Mam's. Of course, as far as I knew, one wasn't supposed to know what's in a diary, yet, I was so curious that it didn't matter, although I had a feeling that I wasn't tell anyone about reading that diary. He'd hurl me through a window if he found out that I had read Mam's diary, let alone found and had it in my possession, the thought of which was far worse than being whacked with a thick belt. I've seen what he's capable, thus I was initially afraid to read the diary and felt the need to get rid of it, of course, I didn't know how or what else to do.
"Open it! Open it!" was what the diary seemed to say, should it have had a voice. In my mind, it did, yes, actually, it was the sinister yet innocent voice of temptation and curiosity. I was swayed and thus opened the forbidden book. I found myself on the first page, the entry of which was titled "Sold."
We are rich, I know, yet, my family gives me no real control, especially, when it comes for to me find love. I'm not really sold, however, I may as well be, seeing as I haven't much a choice between a marriage to someone I don't really know, let alone, isn't sure if I've met, or being disowned, thus I am sold. According to my parents, they say someone nice will marry me, that they've picked someone nice, and, to be honest, I pray that he'll love me and that our marriage will be a happy one, as I do not see a way out of this. This marriage is arranged, I know, and I prey that it won't be unpleasant. Metaphorically, I am sold to the one they picked and I am sold to what they call a suitable aspiration. In all honesty, I believe said aspiration is suitable if the person is allowed to choose it and, yes, I did want to get married but now just seems so soon and I don't even know him.
Since these are private pages, I shall note that currently I am engaged, as my parents wished. Anyway, on the note of the one I am to marry, I must note that he is rather aloof and distant, however, I suppose he has reason to be, after all, this is but a pragmatic engagement, so there isn't much passion in it, not at this point. As I write, I have a confession and that is I am pregnant by and in love with someone I refuse to disclose the identity of. I suppose that what I am trying to note is that I hope this marriage will work for the sake of my baby.
-Ragyou
As I've said before, I was told they loved each other, thus being lied to, actually, the truth was that she wanted him to love her and was forced into this marriage. As far as I had known, it was my fault that she had all of these bad things happening to her because she was pregnant with me at the time she had gotten married, let alone the fact that she was forced into this marriage because of said pregnancy, thus because of me. The realization wasn't a good one.
Snapped out of reality and convulsing on the floor at the realization, I was to find myself slapped in the face and shaken. It was Rei and she looked fearful yet again. Was he home? No, he wasn't, actually, he wouldn't be home until after I've gone to bed. "What in the hell were you doin' reading thi-I'm taking this!" she had spoken quickly, putting the cursed diary back to where I had found it. She then held me very close and whispered, "Your mother never blamed you and neither is it your fault." Through tears, I silently expressed my disbelief, to which she said, "The one they made her marry is an S.O.B, one of the worst I had ever seen, and he deserves to rot in hell. SOBs need no explanation." She was, as only she can, reassuring me that he had no reason to treat me that us that way and that it wasn't our fault.
That night, as odd as it seemed, Mam had a moment of clarity and I found myself visited by her. She was stroking my hair, before she held me in her arms for a little while. As she put me back, she kissed me on the forehead, saying, "So sorry, I love you." She stroked my hair a final time before leaving the room with tears streaming down her face.