The Virginian Love Massacre of 1871

Chapter Three.

I've always been attracted to fire.

At night, when I can't sleep, I take out my matchbox and have silent conversations with the flames. I think there is no element quite as dramatic as fire, so it tends to agree with me on most things.

Tonight, I stare at the blazing light and feel the heat from my fingertips. My family is in the dining room, having professional talk over dinner. It was my choice to stay upstairs and avoid the event. I could not handle the violating blue eyes that I know would be staring right at me.

The knock on the door startles me and I nearly drop my match on my bedding. I tighten my grip on it and blow it out quickly. "Who is it?" I ask through the door.

It is unusual for me to be asking, I often just tell anyone to come in. I quite like the surprise. However, due to unwanted guests in our home, I must remain vigilant.

"Willa." I hardly hear her quiet voice from the hallway, but my smile immediately forms.

"Oh, come in!"

I hear the door open and close quietly while I stick the matchbox under my bed. Willa gives me a questioning look when I stand up, I brush it off.

"You've brought me dinner." I smile, looking at the meal rested on a platter.

"Dessert as well, please do not tell your mother. She told me not to give you any." She whispers as if my mother is listening on the other side of the door, setting the platter on my bed.

"A cruel punishment."

Last week, I told my French tutor it would be best to end our lessons. I thought I payed her silence, but she told my mother immediately. She was furious.

Both my mother and father's family come from France. We settled in the United States many generations ago but my mother thought it was important that my brother and I learned the language.

Grim learned it very quickly. It is spectacular, really. He is fluent. I however, am less than remarkable. Which is very disheartening. I've had many tutors, Grim himself tried to teach me, but it is hopeless. I sound ridiculous and I can hardly understand what anybody is saying every time they speak the language to me.

So I, with no permission from my parents, fired her.

We do not have desert every night, but at least once a week. My mother told me I was not allowed to have any for the next month. I thought it was excessive, and pointless considering Grim will always give me his anyway.

"Yes, well, I know you do not like turkey. So, I gave you extra pudding."

"You are an angel, Willa. I could not bare this life without you."

"I believe you say that to everyone."

"Yes, but I mean it when I say it to you."

Willa laughs at that. I take a moment to look at her. She has many features I wish I had myself. She spends much of her time in the gardens, which tans her olive skin. Her hair is long like mine, but straight and dark. My brown eyes are still lighter than her own, Willa's are much deeper.

When we were younger, I was rather envious of her beauty. But as I grow older, I've learned to appreciate it.

It astounds me that such a well-favored woman could be infatuated with Grim, of all people. I truly believe she could have anybody she wanted.

But yes, it is true. Though I hate to admit that my brother is right about anything, Willa is most certainly besotted with him.

"You're staring." She interrupts my currents task of comparing the sizes of our nose. I gather they are about the same.