19th April, 1992
Dear Carlisle,
Aro, Caius and Marcus seem to grow more antsy. They expect something to happen, but I am unsure what. I have worry growing inside of me that they have planned for something to happen, I only wish I could return to you. I would feel much safer in your company.
Caius is frequently told to remain patient, for what I do not know. All the while I am made to do horrendous things. This morning, a vampire was sentenced to death, and wrongly so in my opinion, and I was given the order to "do the honours". Felix held him down, and I was expected to take off the head. I tried to get out of it, but there was no doing so. I had to behead another of our kind, who was probably innocent. The small apology I gave was nowhere near enough for what I owed him.
It's not often I use the word hate, but I do hate my being here. My life is perfectly miserable in any way possible. There is little joy in anything else save for these anecdotes I write to you. However, the thought of never being able to give you does loom around me frequently, especially with the quick temper of Marcus these days. I have to admit, this ordeal doesn't make me regret leaving in the first place. I managed to see the world and meet some incredible people. Werner, from Germany in 1942, I found out recently that he became one of us. I managed to overhear a conversation about a small group of vampires in Poland, and I heard the names of two vampires I already knew of and his. I can only hope I am on the right track as I would love to know what happened with the other children.
I still wear my bracelets from Vietnam, no matter how many times Aro comments on how unprofessional they look. But I swore back then that I would never take them off and I never will. I imagine Huyen and Cao have taken theirs off by now, probably too small for their wrists. That village was lovely, though I suppose it could be very different now due to the war. If only I could've been there for them. They could have died and I would never know. However, I do think I'd prefer to remain ignorant and not linger too much on the thought. As much as I no longer fear death, I do still dislike it very much so. Maybe by now they have their own children and have long forgotten me? I could be a mere dreamlike memory to them.
The coat I got from Portsmouth back in 1927 is still standing strong. It has one or two repair jobs, and I've never been more grateful for my mother teaching me to sew neatly. I've no reason to wear it much at the moment, but I'm sure upon my return to you that I'll have a reason to.
Your
Edith
YOU ARE READING
Dear Carlisle
أدب الهواةAfter being together for two-hundred years, the first child of Carlisle decides to go on her own adventures. But not without keeping Carlisle in the loop about them with letters and a diary.
