1857 ; ym

7.

it's day/month/year

~

21.10.1852
I stole this empty notebook from father's office today while the whole family was out. I reckon it is better to write down my thoughts than to voice them out loud to myself. I don't want mother to ban me to the outhouse again as it gets very cold these days.

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17.11.1852
These days, father is a lot more cruel to me. It makes sense considering my birthday is approaching fast. He does not appreciate any reminder that I belong to the family. After all, I don't remember him ever calling me his daughter. But it does make sense, as I'm not.

Yesterday he forbid me to study with my sister ever again. It's a shame, really. The teacher was always so kind to me.

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28.12.1852
Back when I was still a little girl, mother used to braid my hair and tell me I was beautiful regardless of what other people said. These days, she doesn't so much as look at me.

I wonder whether she crumbled underneath the pressure of the family or if time just revealed her to be a liar, too.

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06.02.1853
Last night, father invited a few men over. No one told me we would have guests. Usually, I'm locked in the basement or the outhouse then.

Father's guests spotted me as I wanted to cross the bar to get to the library. Father told them I was just another servant. Then, after they had left, he chased me through the house to beat me with the fire irons. I hid on the attic and didn't sleep all night.

The bruises look nasty even in the darkness. I haven't left the attic yet.

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07.02.1853
Father banned me from the library. I suppose all joy is fleeting.

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18.04.1853
These days, I have nothing to do. I just hide in the basement all day in order to avoid mother and father and everyone else, really. Just earlier today, hunger tore at my stomach, so I tried to sneak into the kitchen to fetch an apple or two. Of course, one of the cooks caught me. She started insulting me and called me a bastard. Then, she threw the compost at me. Pig's food.
Someone like me is just bound to get caught, I suppose. A bastard. Just like father likes to say.

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03.08.1853
Sometimes, I look at my sister and wonder why she deserved to be the chosen one. Devoid of any flaws, sweet to those she acknowledges, a seeming heart of gold.

Every time I see her, I feel the urge to grab her by her ebony hair and drag her through the mud.

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25.11.1853
I don't understand why father doesn't hate mother's brother.

I don't understand why he hates me instead.

Today, he slapped me in front of everyone and then dragged me into the basement. He beat me and called me awful names, a bastard, an ugly disgrace. I allowed it to happen. I believe I smelled liquor.

No one remembered it was my birthday.

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02.02.1854
Sometimes, I want to hurt him.