Salvatore sister

Chapter 4- 1875

1875:

I’m sixteen years old, I should be trying to find a husband like all the other women my age but I have more to worry about. Wendy is five years old, she talks, she walks, she’s developing signs of magic, she’s also very beautiful like me (not too brag, but have you seen me) and her mother, she was going to be the apple of every guys eyes. I would have to beat off men with a broom. I remember her first word still.

Three years ago:

I held Wendy close to my body and read out a random page of Shakespeare’s work, it seemed to soothe her and she was much hyped up today. She had started to try and say words, she had been stuck in the baby babble stage for so long and now she was ready, I just hope I don’t miss it.

 

“Mamma” I hear coming from Wendy. I look at her, the cutest baby in the world in my arms, just called me mamma. I tear up and only let one tear fall before composing myself.

“Hey baby.” I say and kiss her cheek. She wouldn’t understand now that I’m not her mother. When she is old enough, I will tell her bed time stories of Emily. Her mother, the greatest woman I know.

I held her up from falling as she took her first steps. I now tell her about Emily as bed time stories, anything she wants to know I tell. I had to tone down the details and story of her death, I told Wendy that she died in a fire. Not that she was burned at the stake for what she is. I haven’t taught Wendy magic though, I don’t want her going through what Emily went though, and I’m working on a binding potion. I know it’s terrible and selfish of me but I think of it as keeping her safe. And if she ever decides in the future that she wants this life then there is a reverse potion.

Victoria has become a friend, a lot of the time she isn’t there, in the head I mean. She kind of drifts off into someplace else and she looks peaceful. She also gets very confused a lot. She won’t know who I am, who Wendy is, who James is. Wendy doesn’t understand. But I know that Victoria is sick. Very sick. She gets worse and worse as the years drag on. But sometimes she will have these sudden moments of clarity. Moments like these are precious.

Two years ago:

 

“Victoria, I brought you soup for your cold.” I say and knock on her door, I enter her bedroom. I don’t expect her to know who I am. An hour ago she thought I was her nurse.

 

“Anna.” She says excitedly from her bed and motions me towards her. “Come. Come.” She says and pats on her lap. I sit on her lap slowly, she might forget who I am any moment and panic. “So tell me, have you found a man yet?” she giggle sand takes my hair out of its usual braid. It’s strange how she is so on like nothing has happened.