[ hi ] h.s.

▒Chapter Seven▒

▒WARNING: this chapter has some sensitive language with talks of suicide, etc so please read with caution▒

▒Song of the chapter: 9 crimes by Damien Rice▒

▒Chapter Seven▒

She exhales and moves herself further onto the bed in an attempt to make herself more comfortable.

"Okay" she sighs.

"Once upon a time, there was a little boy called...Edward" she begins and I snort.

"That wasn't his name. I can't remember it off the top of my head but it wasn't Edward" I complain but she just waves me off.

"Honey, I'm calling him Edward now do you want storytime or not?"

I stay silent and nod for her to continue.

Her fake clears her throat causing me to stiffle a laugh before proceeding to start over, "Once upon a time, there was a boy called Edward. Now Edward was a sweet, caring young boy but he had a somewhat rocky upbringing, you see his parents met during the first world war. His mother was a nurse, his father a man of high rank in the army. Now this, my sweet, sketches the start of issues for young Edward"

I listen intently as my Grandmother tells the story, she is so vivid and sincere when speaking that it almost seems like she is retelling factual information as opposed to a make-believe children's tale.

"His father was a cold, hardened man. You see honey, back in day men who were of high importance in the army were of high importance for a reason; they did not take any shit from anyone and they presented themselves as strong, fearless and ruthless. Now whilst Edward's father was of a hard and cold nature, his mother was of the opposite. She was sweet and kind and caring and she was as beautiful and delicate as a Rose. Edward took after his mother, much to his fathers dismay."

"My sweet, you see, his father wanted a boy who would retrace his footsteps and join the army and once again glorify the family name with fancy decorations of medals and honours. But Edward, had no desire or interest in the harsh, cruel army life. All he wanted to do was paint and travel and read anything from Poe to Dickens."

I silently compare myself to Edward, we both have the same dreams of wanderlust and we both have the same hobbies. I love reading and art similarly to him.

"This takes me to the next cog in the wheel that helped spin Edward out of control. His family lived in a grand manor house. Traditional to the time with deliciously sculpted wooden archways matched with expensive rare paintings adorning the walls. Similar to this house, I'd like to imagine, minus the expensive artwork obviously" she says causing me to laugh.

"Now the house itself wasn't a problem...to begin with anyways. The house if anything, was lively and bursting with youth. Edward had four siblings, Jane the eldest, Christopher then Michael, Edward himself and then the youngest was called Poppy, sweet little Poppy. However, these weren't the only children in the house, Edward's mother insisted on fostering children from the local center in town. Apart from the siblings there were about ten other children living in the mansion."

"Edward took care of all the young children, nuturing them and caring for them along with his loving mother. But in the late Spring of nineteen-thirty-eight, Edward would have been about twelve at the time, a deadly disease struck their town. Jane, Michael, Poppy and a few other of the foster children sadly didn't make it...along with his mother." My gandmother speaks with such sorrow and emotion that I actually begin to feel my waterline moisten slightly.

"Edward was utterly devastated that his dear sisters and brother passed but he was even more crushed at the passing of his sweet mother - the one person to truly understand him."