𝐆𝐄𝐍𝐄𝐑𝐀𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍𝐀𝐋 𝐂𝐔𝐑𝐒𝐄 ✯ 𝐒𝐀𝐋𝐓𝐁𝐔𝐑𝐍 𝐅𝐀𝐍𝐅𝐈𝐂

𝟢𝟣．𝖶𝖮𝖭𝖣𝖱𝖮𝖴𝖲 𝖯𝖫𝖠𝖢𝖤

𝖢𝖧𝖠𝖯𝖳𝖤𝖱 𝖮𝖭𝖤
❝ 𝗂 𝖿𝗈𝗎𝗇𝖽 𝖺 𝗉𝗅𝖺𝖼𝖾 𝖿𝗎𝗅𝗅 𝗈𝖿 𝖼𝗁𝖺𝗋𝗆𝗌，𝖺 𝗆𝖺𝗀𝗂𝖼 𝗐𝗈𝗋𝗅𝖽 𝗂𝗇 𝗆𝗒 𝖻𝖺𝖻𝗒'𝗌 𝖺𝗋𝗆𝗌，𝗁𝗂𝗌 𝗌𝗈𝖿𝗍 𝖾𝗆𝖻𝗋𝖺𝖼𝖾 𝗅𝗂𝗄𝖾 𝗌𝖺𝗍𝗂𝗇 𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝗅𝖺𝖼𝖾，𝖺 𝗐𝗈𝗇𝖽𝗋𝗈𝗎𝗌 𝗉𝗅𝖺𝖼𝖾. ❞

I HAVE NEVER BEEN MORE GLAD that the Summer Holidays are over and that I can completely avert my attention to school work and school work only — and perhaps the occasional, very frequent, parties.

When I left my home this morning — though it had stopped feeling like a home years ago, after the death of my aunt — my goodbye's had been all too brief. I hadn't even so much as looked my father in the eyes. I couldn't. I don't think I'll ever be able to do so again.

He's not the same anymore. I don't think he ever will be. Losing the only person you've ever really loved can never be easy — I wish he was able to extent his love for my mother onto me. I suppose that was the real curse my family faced, everyone was fucking miserable, soulless and only had the ability to love themselves and perhaps their spouse.

My father never thought it would've happen to her. My mother. It wasn't supposed to be her, it was supposed to be him. He was supposed to fall victim to the acclaimed 'generational curse'. He was the one born into the family, she only married into it. Why did the 'curse' take her? It wasn't fair.

He wasn't always such a big believer of the curse, despite my borderline-insane grandmother's constant attempt to propagate the idea into his mind, but now, ever since my mother's death, this 'curse' is all my father wishes to talk about.

At least he's not as disturbed as my grandmother, who has it in her head that I'll be able to somehow, miraculously, break this 'curse'. I try to explain to her all the time that illnesses run in families, accidents happen and people with mental health issues should see counsellors, rather than be told they're going to succumb to The Curse of Driscoll Manor — my grandmother claims her great-grandmother titled it as such after it took her father, husband, two of her daughters, and one of her sons. She always had arguments, of course, but I tended not to listen — ignorance is bliss when it's a load of bollocks manufactured to encourage paranoia.

The grand manor had become tiny, and suffocating. I was beginning to feel claustrophobic and trapped. But the second I stepped foot out of that door and locked eyes with the family chauffeur, who was going to drive me to university, I'd never felt more relieved.

That was until I saw him, again. I hadn't been allowed to leave Driscoll Manor since my mother took her own life, the third week into my Summer Holidays; I was trapped — which meant I hadn't seen my best friend, Felix Catton, in months. I tried to drown myself in studying, poetry, literature, painting, art, music — fucking everything — but it was no help. I was trapped in a tragically empty manor, constantly trying to block out the sounds of my grandmother and father arguing. It was sometimes over me, but never over my health, never about how I was dealing with the situation. But, their arguments were mostly about 'the curse'. I hated it. I hated them.

"Hope!" I was greeted excitedly as I stepped out of my family's sleek car. Felix threw his arms around me and embraced me tightly — he always hugged me as though he hadn't seen me in months, even if it had only been a matter of hours; but this time was different, he actually hadn't seen me in months.