Young Writers Society

(I have been writing this story for about 8 years! I hope you like it!)

Prologue

July 22, 1208

Sometimes adults keep secrets. They keep things from children to keep them distracted from the terrible realties of this world. Sometimes they keep things from children for the better, other times it is just because adults often times see children as pure annoyance.

When I was a little girl, my mother would tell me that if I were here good little water lily, I would stay out of her and my father's business. Sometimes though, I couldn't help but listen to their private conversations. I just had to know whether or not they are talking about Charles, Susie, and I.

Yesterday, my mother came in to my room. She was in tears and wouldn't tell me what happened. She wouldn't tell me anything, and I can't understand why she wouldn't tell me. It is because I am a child and children aren't supposed to know anything! They are supposed to stay out of everyone's business and focus on their studies.

My father and my mother are strict on what they allow my siblings and I to do. We can't watch television past 7 p.m, we have to behave, we can only be friends with people they approve of, they won't let us play with our friends past 5, and we aren't allowed to eat dinner with them since they are adults and we are not.

Adults aren't any fun, they are so mean. They won't let me do anything! Even when I am sick, they won't let me eat anything but soup and bread. I should at least get something other than sick people food.

Then again, mother says being selfish is never a good thing. Mother says that when you are sick, you must act as if you are completely normal. When we feel like crap! It isn't fair you know? I am a princess, and I should act selfishly because other princesses act selfishly too.

Father acts selfishly too! He has three children and a wife, but he has these ladies too. They are weird ladies. They act sweetly to Charles, Susie, and I but I know they are bad. They always wear these dresses that show their bare backs! And one lady even showed her legs!

That isn't right, the bishop saws that men are supposed to remain faithful to their wives and not kiss other women. I think my father is going to Hell because he sure has kissed a lot of other women. He even has other children besides Charles, Susie, and I.

Mother doesn't much notice the women, she says it is normal and should be expected. She has to attend to us and he has to attend to his affairs. I think there is something wrong with mother.

(9:00 am)

"You little," Father yelled.

Father rammed through the door and looked at me. "You little! God! Why did you do that?" Father yelled.

I stared at his now black, blue eyes. Nothing but sadness and rage filled his former blue eyes. "You killed them both! Didn't you?"

What is he talking about? I only kill bugs, because bugs are annoying and sometimes poisonous. I have never killed anyone! Have I? No, I most certainly haven't killed anyone! I haven't! Why would my father accuse me of killing someone! I am only 8 years old!

"What?" I asked.

"You killed Charles and Susie! You know that?" Father asked.

"Their dead?" I began to cry.

My brother and sister are dead! Their dead! They died? Why did they die? Why did God take them away? They weren't even adults yet! And now their dead?

"Yes, they are dead Lily!" Father said with a trace of resentment in his voice. "And you killed them both Lily!"

"I didn't kill them! I didn't kill them!" I sobbed.

Father grabbed my arm. "You killed both of them! You killed them Lily! And I want you to die too, and you know how you shall die?"

"I didn't kill them! I didn't kill them! Please believe me!"

"You shall die by drowning. I hope you enjoy slowly dying, just like the way you killed your siblings!" Father spat in my face.

Father grabbed my arm and pulled me out of bed.

Is it fair to say that adults blame their problems on their children? No, it is not, the children blame their problems on their parents.

I didn't die that day, but I have been trying ever since then to die.