My Dear Sister,
After we got we came back from Father's "work", I ran off. As soon as I stepped out of the carriage I grabbed my bonnet and letter paper and ran. I ran until I reached a remote part of the plantation and found a quiet place under a tree. I sat with my head resting on my knees.
I stayed there until I felt a tap at my shoulder. "Lorraine, are you crying?" I looked up to see Jack.
"No," I said. "And you can call me Azelma. Father isn't here."
"I'm sorry for the other night," Jack said. "I didn't mean to get you in trouble."
"I know. It's fine," I said.
"Are you okay?" He knelt beside me. I looked into his eyes. He looked so concerned about me.
"They traded her away," I said.
"Who?"
"Keeya's sister," I said. "They pulled them apart. They were sisters. They separated them."
Jack pulled a loose strand of hair in my face behind my ear. "You're really upset about this," He said.
I sighed. "They reminded me of how me and my sister were," I said.
"Did you get separated from your sister?" Jack asked.
"She died," I said.
"What happened?" Jack asked, looking immediately sorry that he could have upsetted me. "You don't have to say," he added.
"She jumped in front of a bullet that was going to kill a man she loved," I started to get teary eyed. "She was brave. She dressed as a boy to join a rebellion in Paris. They were trying to change the world. They all died. Well all except for the boy she saved. He never loved her back."
"I'm sorry. I had no idea."
"My brother died in the same rebellion. He was such a strong little kid. He thought he was invincible. I miss them both so much. And my mother. She got sick a few months after they died. She could stand living anymore."
Jack looked so upset. He's lived his whole life in luxury. Everything has always been good for him.
"My sister wrote me a letter before she died. She stuck it in my dresser drawer. I only found it a week before I left for America. I have memorized every word of the letter. It said:
My Dear Sister,
It kills me to know that I may never get a chance to speak to you again. I know that if I wake you I will wake Father, and he is still much too angry about the Rue Plummet incident. Also, I don't want you to see me like this.
I am going down to the barricade. I know you don't want me to, but I have to. I know it may be hard for you to understand. I hardly understand. What is the point of living if you have nothing to live for? I know this is a death sentence, but I must try. I would rather die fighting for the people then from poverty.
I love you. Of everyone I know, you have been the one whose loved me back the same amount. I hope that this battle will make a difference so that when you are older you'll be able to have a happy life once again.
One of my favorite memories is the summer when I was seven and you were five and we climbed up to the top of a tall tree. We could see out for miles. You smiled at me and said "I never want this day to end." Sometimes I wish it never had ended and we were still little kids in a tree. We had no fears or worries. We were just small and innocent. I want that back.
I want you to know that if I die tonight I will look out over you like we did from the tree. I will make sure you never break. I cried writing this. I cried thinking about what once was and what will never be.
I will always live in your heart,
Your Sister, Eponine ."
I sigh. Jack puts his hand on my shoulder. "I write her letters back sometimes. Actually I wrote one on the carriage ride home. I tell her about my life. I tell her how much I miss her."
"You seemed like you really loved each other," Jack said. "I've always wished to have a brother or sister."
"I sleep with my brother's vest and sister's hat every night," I said.
Jack held my hand. It was strange, yet comforting. "Thank you," I said. "I like having someone to talk to."
For the rest of the day he taught me some new English phrases. They are:
I love my sister
I miss her
My sister is an angel
I wish she was here
All of the phrases are true. I love and miss you. I know you are my Angel and I wish you could be here. I remember when we used to walk and it would rain. You would tell me not to worry about it because rain made the flowers grow.
The flowers are growing,
Your Sister, Azelma