Chapter Five: Hurricane Maria

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Hurricane Maria is also more famously known as the Alexander Hamilton Hurricane of 1772.

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It's quiet when he finally comes back.

I don't even realise that he had arrived until he opened the door to our room. I would've hugged him, welcomed him, if only I had enough energy.

Peter's dead. He shot himself in the head. I was the one who found him in his bedroom, crimson painting the bed and floors. He didn't even bother saying goodbye. I know that we weren't on good terms, but still.

Alexander shuts the door behind him, as quiet as always. I don't bother looking at him- the wall is more interesting anyway.

What happens now? I feel his blood on my fingers, even though I've scrubbed them clean to the point where it hurts. My clothes stray across the floor- I couldn't bear to deal with the heat after that- but my nightgown seems to be just as heavy.

Alexander sits down on my bed. For once in my life, I don't feel his gaze burning me. He sighs.

"He wasn't a very good person."

"He was still a person." I shoot back weakly. I don't even know why I'm feeling so terrible- Peter never liked me, and he was an eccentric loner. I barely knew him.

"But how could he just... leave?"

Silence. "That's what she did, too," he finally answers, and it didn't take a genius to figure out who he was talking about. But there was no sadness in his tone- just a sense of finality. "People leave, and... well, there is not much you can do about it."

He sounds way too old for his age, he sounds like someone who has seen too much. "I know, Alexander." A small smile appears on my lips. "Just don't leave me, okay? I'd much prefer you alive."

"As long as you promise the same." I curse my terrible wording. God knows what will happen to me- I'm sure that living in a world where I shouldn't exist has consequences.

"I promise to try."

"Then I promise, too," Alexander says as he lays down next to me. I'm exhausted after a long day of crying, and it doesn't take long for me to fall into darkness again.

---

"Hamilton!" A familiar voice calls me, making me drop the pieces of parchment I was carrying by accident. "Holy shi- Yes, Miss?" I quickly cut myself off, scrambling to pick up the parchment.

"Oh my, I'm sorry, dear, I did not mean to startle you!" The baker's wife exclaimed, quickly helping me pick them up. "I hope this one was not of much importance," she said, holding up a muddied piece. Thankfully, every other piece was still intact, so I sighed in relief.

"Thank you, and sadly, they are important. You see, my brother-" That word rolls off of my tongue with great difficulty. "-Is applying to Princeton, and he's currently writing a letter about it, and his letters can get long."

"Oh, Princeton? I have not heard of it. Is it good?"

"Well, I only know about it from Alexander. He wants to get an accelerated course of study, given his age," I answer with a smile. She smiles at me, her smile as sweet as sugar.

"Oh, how old is he now? Old enough to work?"

"Aha," I laugh. "You've also been fooled. My brother's a late bloomer- he has been of working age for a few years now." I think, at least. I don't actually know how old he is.

"Oh really? He does look quite thin, is he eating enough?"

Oh, definitely not. We don't have enough money for that, but I shake my head with a smile. "Believe me, he eats as much as me."

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