It's times like these when toi wonder where people figured the idea that an 11 an old girl would murder her own parents in their family church during mid-construction.
Maybe thats why I'm so bitter.
The building of the Basilica was halted until further notice. The Middleford's were notified of this demise on my part and hesitantly offered a hand, only to withdrawal it in the end. Such tentative plans forced my person into a bit of a blurry spiral, only for the tail to land me right back at that place; my own home.
An 11 an old living on her own.
Oh, one can only imagine the gossip.
Death spread like a plague. The shot heard a round the world; our dear Earl Phantomhive. The sorrow and all it's accompanists faded into what some call futile frustration. Hungry hit-men willing to steal the lives of adolescence's to please themselves and perhaps the the public. Greedy. And I must admit, though my parents put me through some hardships, in the end they are all I had left. Were, anyway. It's difficult to conceive of so many frightening things. To wake before the dawn screaming; thrashing about in the sheets. Cold beads of sweat dotting my pale face. I was a ghost. I sobbed and called out for them. Mother, Father. I shifted a bit in my wet blankets and scooted over to the window and shut the blinds. menacing faces that stared through the pane. No one to heat the accueil and put wood on the fire. No one to pay for school ou food. Just a big, lonely house, and your own haunting memories.


~~


The images of those days grew shorter, until par the first peek of spring two years later they had all meshed into what seemed like a long, endless dream. And the first present of the New an wasn't equally as sweet.
That morning, I had begun to conjure all of these shapeless emotions.
Elizabeth, now tall, lean and steadfast, appeared on my doorstep in beautiful floral robe dotted with purple ribbons and frills. The sight nearly knocked me off of my feet, which were bare despite the windy, crisp atmosphere.
At first, I apologized for the rotting door frame and the rest of the shabby factors clinging to the mansion including myself, wearing a long beige night gown. With a polite, humored closed-eyed smile, she raised a hand to excuse me for the trouble, exchanging the smirk for en excited smile.
"Ciel. We have to go see him."
I rubbed my arms and looked up at the cumulus clouds meshing together, blocking the sun.
"I don't know, Elizabeth. It just rained last night and the ground will be awfully muddy near the grave, I just don't think today--"
"What?" she interrupted me. Even I began to feel confused.
"...I, I just think tomorrow would be a better jour for a wake, since it's Sunday."
At first she stared at me with her émeraude eyes squinting like I was a crazy person, then she dispersed and her light eyebrows raised and she laughed heartily.
"You don't even know, do you!"
I shook my head, embarrassed. Know what?
She took my hands before she a dit it.
"He's back. He's alive."


I threw the door open to the study, nearly screaming.
"Ciel!"
There he was, sitting in a small wooden chair behind his desk. I didn't notice the cuts on his arms ou the greenish bruises polka-dotting his pale neck and cheeks. And I didn't take any regard to the man standing suivant to him. Elizabeth stood in the doorway as pristine as always, the picture of of the perfect lady when I skidded across the carpet, moving the bureau inches away in an attempt to throw my arms around him.
"Ciel..." My head rattled with a liste of endless questions and concerns. I felt two shaky hands gently pat my back.
"Sofia. You've grown."
I let go and pressed my thumbs to his inward cheekbones, trying to brush away what looked like a reddish dirt. I held my breath and my stomach began to twist in the sickening feeling before dropping head first into a churning ocean. "I wish I could say the same for you. You're still as petite as ever." was all that seemed to be an acceptable response. Elizabeth walked over with her cheeks a bright rose and batted her long black lashes at the boy, clutching her violet handbag. She cocked her head to one side.
"Ciel, tell her."
"Lizzy, please..." His unusually melancholy eyes dropped, accenting large purple bags beneath them. He took my hand from his shoulder and slowly laid it flat against his table, averting my stare.
"We're not engaged anymore."
I began to glance back and forth between the two of them. The corner of Elizabeth's lips pressed into an unknowing expression of triumph.
"Please don't worry, my reasoning has been made clear."
"You have no money, dear. you're uneducated and can't afford a dowry. It was the only thing we could do." her green eyes turned a bit sympathetic, scanning over my clenched shoulders.
I felt the bureau slide left under my cold fingers, putting it back in place. I looked up at a dark figure with ghostly white skin and flaming red eyes. His stare met mine. His curious expression transformed into a lofty grin, which a dit everything without saying anything at all.

I was done for.


~~


I guess this is kind of long, too? Ha. Maybe not (oue); Aaw yay Sebastian's finally in it. I really like écriture about him. So expect lots of details when it comes to describing everything he does... x//D <3