Charlize Theron Imagines

The Pain of the Oldest Daughter - Lady Lesso

Leonora studies me as I gaze aimlessly out of the carriage. Dread courses through my veins. Leonora's head tilts to the side, her eyes still stuck on me. Her mouth opens to speak but I beat her to it. "I don't want to do this." I mutter, my eyes still directed outside. "You don't have to. No one is forcing you." she responds. Her words finally draw my attention back to the inside of the carriage. "I do have to do this, Leonora. If I don't, who else will?"

My eyes, once again, drift to the outside world. "Y/n, dear, you've just lost the remainder of your family. You should give yourself time." Leonora advises. I shake my head. "And let this sit? No. I need to get this over and done with so I can finally move on." I reply. She sighs, looking down at her feet. "Well, no matter what happens, no matter how you feel, I'll be right beside you." I look at her, a small, tired smile on my face as I lean forward to rest my hand on her knee. She covers my hand with her own, caressing it assuringly.

The horses and carriage come to a stop and I suck in a deep breath. The door opens. Leonora glances at me before exiting. "Y/n?" she voices, breaking the trance I appear to be in. I take another deep breath before following. My eyes meet the house I used to call home, and I instantly look away. Leonora grabs the hand that was unknowingly tracing my collarbone. I look up, our eyes meeting. She nods. I let out the breath I forgot I was holding. "It's going to be okay." she whispers. I swallow, nodding.

We approach the uncomfortably large house, although I'm unsure if it's uncomfortable due to its size or the copious amounts of memories the building holds. I pause at the front entrance, causing Leonora's hand to slip from mine as she steps further ahead. She turns back to me. This is the most sympathetic I've seen her. I take my final deep breath before entering the old building.

Everything I lay my eyes on reminds me of my childhood, making me more and more desperate to leave. My legs guide me through the only building I've ever wished to forget. Leonora follows a small step behind me, her eyes studying details of the walls and the intricacy of the ceiling. I slowly climb the grand staircase, my mind flooding with the memory of my father dragging my mother and sisters away from my sobbing body after he'd forced the love of my teenage life away from me. That was the night the person I'd seen as a loving, protective father became nothing but the man whose house I lived in. I was sixteen and felt like my home, my safe space, had been torn out from under me.

I enter my youngest sisters, Marjorie's, bedroom first. The baby pink wall and matching bedding brings an immense amount of comfort to my aching heart. She was the first of my family to go. Fourteen, from Scarlet fever. I wasn't even home to console her. I will forever carry that as a failure of mine, being the oldest of my siblings, despite not having the ability to help her in any way had I been there. I wander towards her vanity. It'd not been touched for at least a decade now. I open her beloved jewelry box, the warnings she'd give about anyone stealing her pearls circulating in my head. I can hear them as if she were truly with me. Holding the gorgeous, golden pearls in my hand, tears fill my eyes. A shaky breath escapes my throat as I feel Leonora's gentle hand on my lower back. I caress the small pearly before placing them in a small velvet bag.

From Marjorie's room, I enter my other sisters, Cassandra's, bedroom. The lovely sage green wall and matching curtains warm me. A small smile tugs at my lips. Third to go, after our mother, Cassie passed at the hand of pneumonia in her early twenties. Unlike Marjorie, Cassandra didn't have a jewelry box with an abundance of jewels and pearls. She's not been one to care for that kind of stuff. She'd spend her free time, which she had often, writing. Stories upon stories, poems upon poems. She was the family's hopeless romantic. She'd produce the most gorgeous tales of romance, the most gut-wrenching tales of pain, and all-around perfect tales of life. I reach her desk, tracing my fingers around the ink stains. My hand clutches a small book, and I open it to a random page. I read the words, and a small chuckle mixed with a sob escapes my throat. I'd not ever been good with words to the point it was embarrassing. As I close the book, I bring it to my lips, kissing it slightly. I place it in the bag along with Marjorie's pearls, then I retrieve Cassie's favourite pen from the other end of the desk. She used to keep it in her hair, in her bun to be exact, so that is where I put it; in my bun. I turn around, and Leonora watches me from the doorway, a soft smile on her face.