The Curse - Book 1 (Completed)

Epilogue: Katrina's Letter

​My dear Love,

If you are reading this letter, it means you found out. My biggest fear has come true. And although I know forgiveness is not something you can give me, I choose to admit my sins to you for I have kept the truth inside me for too long. Be it selfishness, but I beg for you to read it.
I still remember that day. It was a warm night in the month of May. I had just picked a couple of scarlet cherries from the tree on the road to my cottage and was enjoying their taste as he cut my path.
​He smiled at me in a coy manner. That's what I remember about him. It was the first thing I noticed. Not his emerald green eyes that served as a perfect contrast to his curly dark brown hair or his incredibly elegant posture that exacerbated his broad proud shoulders. No, those things I noticed afterwards. The reason his smile drew so much attention, I realized, was because it didn't fit him. Why in the world would a handsome young man like that be shy or insecure? I wish I noticed it then and there. I wish I noticed it was all a decoy. None of this would've happened if I did.
​"Hello," he had said. Of all the sweep-me-off-my-feet introductions he could've come up with, that was what he said. And it swept me off my feet. Literally. Of all the clichés in the world, I chose the worst one - my knees tottered. And he rushed to provide me a stand-fast. I wish my big wide chocolate eyes didn't get a shade warmer as I lifted my head to meet his. Because when they did, he knew then and there, that he had me at hello.
​"Be careful, my gorgeous lady," he had said still holding me inside of his strong arms. Arms that felt like armors, proof to any weapon in existence. I felt safe. And I didn't want them to detach from my body. And he didn't let go. Instead, he pulled his arm beneath my armpits to lift me up as if I was a little child. The same way my mother would carry me when I was a baby. I let him do it. I didn't even make an admonishing remark to his inappropriately direct complimenting. But my burning cheeks gave away my shyness. "I believe you were headed that way," he gestured at my house's direction and started walking still holding me in his arms.
​I rested my head on his chest and I could smell his body odor on his neck. There are no words to describe it. He simply smelled like...a man. And I yearned for that smell even though I was sensing it. I yearned for his touch even though I was feeling it. When I realized I was on the urge of kissing him, I forced myself to speak. "What is your name?" I asked.
​He didn't answer at first. It was another hint I didn't acknowledge. Then he looked at me and the coy smile was long forgotten. He wore a brazen one instead, as he said: "You can call me Joshua."
​And so I did. I screamed his name out of passion as he made love to me in my father's stay for the first time. The only time. I screamed his name out of resentment when I realized what I have done: I knew he made me commit the one thing for which you could never forgive me. Betrayal. And I screamed his name in another way, too. A way I still cannot define. It was probably a mixture of nostalgia and hatred, as I was giving birth to our triplets.
​Although I do not want to leave you, you have forced me to do so, Luther. I need to protect them. Please understand. And, please, do not seek me.

Forever yours,
Katrina