This is not about Juliet

Alone

TW: slight mentions of alcoholism and death.

After the party ends, I walk up the stairs, sighing. When I get at the top, I see my Granddad. "You did well," Granddad says, "but you lost this." He gives me my Montague ring. God no, this means I'm officially part of the goddamn family again. Great. The ring itself was beautiful, grass green stone, cut like a square, set in a gold ring. In the center, a swooping M had been carved. "Keep this up, and I might send you to France for the autumn holiday," he continues, before leaving me in the hallway, off to his own room on the second floor. I just stand there thinking about what my grandfather had just said, looking at the ring in my hand. France? Really? That would be the best thing to ever happen since last summer. I slip the ring on my finger.

I walk to my room through the empty hallway. I had never much liked the house, it was too silent and cold. My mother was in Spain with her newest lover. My father was drowning himself somewhere. Whether that was in work or in alcohol I did not know yet. I would tomorrow morning. My brother Andrei was off to college already, Granddad was cold and cruel personified, and my other brother Romeo was dead. So I was practically alone. Except for some staff that Granddad would fire if they found out we were speaking.

I've never read Harry Potter, but last summer on one of the few occasions Tristan was actually here, he told me my house reminded him of the "Slytherin common room" or something like that. The floors were a dark wood in some places,  a black marble in others, and in the kitchen, there were black and white squared tiles. The wallpaper was shades of green that varied from room to room. It had floral patterns on it. The furniture was made of dark brown and black wood. Every room had a chandelier twice the size of my entire body. Made of glass with thousands of little lights. I come to a stop in front of my door, made of ebony and with a beautifully carved star just below the waist level. It has a golden doorknob, engraved with a swoopy L, which I turn, and I push open the door. My room has emerald green wallpaper, ebony floors, and the ceiling is painted with stars and a moon to resemble the night sky, this is what the sky looked like the night after I was born, family tradition. My father walked me to the window and let me look up at the night sky, the first one I'd ever see, and I apparently immediately started smiling, even though i had been crying and frowning all day and night. I wasn't a very smiley person. Some might even call me "brooding," but the night sky never fails to make me smile.

24/08

When I went to bed that night, I fell asleep quickly, I meant to think some more about what happened yesterday, but I was so exhausted I just fell asleep as soon as my head hit the pillow. My dreams were pleasant for once. I dreamed of him. So when I was awoken brutally by the one bird in my garden, that sounds like a literal alarm clock, I wanted to go outside and kill it with a rock.

I got out of bed and put on some new clothes, including my favorite black turtle neck. Some might call me weird for wearing a knitted turtle neck in summer heat, but it was always cold in here, and I had no intention to go out at all today. I descended what felt like seven sets of stairs, this early in the morning, and went into the kitchen. Sybille wasn't up yet. She was our cook but she was also like a mother to me. She was the one that comforted me after nightmares, etc. I looked at my watch, 06.43, the sun was rising, in 17 minutes she would jump up, get changed and at 07.30 prepare French toast like every Sunday and start on the housework. In the peace I watched, as the sun rose. The golden, peach, pink, and purple hues danced in the sky, accenting a bright orange morning sun.

It was now around noon. Breakfast had been amazing, and for lunch, I had taken some fruit from the kitchen and a book from my room. Now, I was making my way to my favorite tree. Hidden between the rest stood an old cherry tree. The shade of all the other protecting me from the murderous summer heat. Its sturdiest branches could hold me, but I had to be careful where to set my feet. I picked a sturdy branch and decided that would be my lunch spot. I had no interest in dining in the house. Granddad was mean and annoying, and I did not want to be around him any longer than I had to. One time, he had found me and Sybille eating together on her lunch break and almost fired her on the spot. But I promised I would keep taking piano classes. The ones I had worked so hard to get rid of. So this was a good alternative. I opened the tea towel I had knotted close to keep my fruit and ate a couple of raspberries before reading. School would start soon now, I had all my supplies and my instructions. Monday afternoon, I would take piano. Wednesdays were for theatre, Fridays for fencing, and when nearing the show, my weekends would be spent on theatre as well. Just a couple more days, and I wouldn't be alone anymore. In this cold dead house, I can't wait to escape once I'm on my own two feet. This relic of past glory, Granddad was always trying to revive as the rest of the area became filled with sleek, modern, duochrome villas.