My legs wouldn't stay still.
They swung back and forth where I sat, heels tapping the floor, faster and faster the longer he stared at that diary.
Papa looked tired.
His eyes were heavy, and the lines on his face were deeper than usual.
But even then, he felt steady, like he always did.
Unshakable.
If he was holding that book, it had to be important. I didn't know everything about it, only that it was about my grandmother.
Papa never really talked much about her, but I knew she died early when he was small...just like my mama.
The thought of her not being here anymore stung and my heart started to beat fast, but I tried to calm it down.
For now, I wanted to be with Papa and share this moment with him.
I wanted to ask what grandma had written.
But I didn't ask, I knew he would tell me himself.
When the cover opened, my breath caught. The pages made a soft noise as he turned them, and his voice, low and rough... began to read.
----
"Even though you are not the real heir, you are my biological son. And nothing will change that. I love you as much as I love the real heir. I want you to know, Sir - "
The word never finished.
A sound split the air, sharp and violent, like the world itself tearing.
Something warm splattered on my face.
I scrunched up my nose and wiped it with my hand, thinking maybe it was water, or mud.
But when I pulled my hand back, it was red.
And thick and sticky, but it wasn't paint.
It was…
"B… blood?"
The word slipped out, shaky and small.
My chest tightened.
My throat closed up.
And before I could understand, before I could even scream-
Something heavy dropped into my lap.
I looked down.
My whole body shook as I looked down.
It was his head... Papa's head.
His eyes were wide open, staring straight at me but not seeing, they weren't moving. They were stuck... frozen.
His mouth was stuck in a round 'O', like he had tried to speak one last word and never got the chance.
Blood gushed from his neck, hot and soaking into my dress, running down my legs.
Strips of skin and bits of meat clung to it, sticking wet against me before sliding off.
But I didn't care about any of that.
I was barely registering anything.
I wanted to scream, but nothing came out. It was as if he took my voice with him.
I just sat there for a second or two, until...
*Thud*
There was a loud thud beside me, and I saw him, his body fell down.
It was then that I noticed, his head really wasn't there. It was a headless body.
I froze.
My hands hovered above him, shaking so hard my nails dug into my palms.
My brain refused to believe what my eyes saw.
This wasn't real.
It couldn't be.
What was happening?? Why was he here like this??
I wanted to throw up but nothing came out, only dry coughs that made my chest hurt.
"No… no no no no no no no - " Nothing else came out, I had forgotten every other word.
I tried to lift his head, to hold him like I could put him back together if I just… if I just tried hard enough.
But it was too heavy.
My shaky fingers slipped on the blood, warm and slick, coating everything.
I pressed my fist against his neck because I thought maybe... maybe if I pressed, the blood would stop.
But nothing.
It only soaked my hand.
It was useless.
"Papa... Papa, wake up! Please, please, please please..... wake up!"
My voice cracked, high and desperate.
I shook him, once, twice, harder, as if shaking would make the nightmare end.
" It's me. Your Sylvie.... Tell me it's a joke
Tell me you will wake up. Please... ple- "
I ripped at my dress with shaking teeth and tore strips of cloth.
I shoved the torn cloth against his throat, pressed with both arms, leaning my whole weight into it, as if the force of me could stop the red tide.
" Work , Work , Work. Pleaseeeee... just work. Something. Anythin- "
The cloth filled with warm blood slid and all my efforts were in vain.
He didn't move.
His eyes just kept staring.
His mouth just stayed open.
"You won't stop your daughter from crying? You won't tell me it's okay? Won't place your hand over my head and calm me down?"
Images crashed through me... Mama's laugh, Papa tucking my hair behind my ear, the gentle hand they used to comfort me when I was scared , our dinners together.
All the happy memories.
I broke down.
Tears started streaming down my face, fast and unending.
Tears blurred everything until I couldn't see, couldn't breathe.
Then I realised, I wasn't alone.
Help.
I needed help.
Slythra. Uncle Toby.
"Help - " the word broke out of me, small and ugly.
"Somebody... Somebody help us -"
My eyes darted to the corner where Slythra lay.
She was still there, curled in sleep, chest rising and falling like the world hadn't ended.
"Wake up!" I screamed at her, still holding his hand.
"Wake up, please!" I shouted but she didn't stir.
Uncle Toby. Where was he?? He would know what to do. He fixed his leg. Surely... Surely he can fix him too.
" He had to...he had to " I mumbled frantically.
I turned, scanning the dark, desperate for him.
"Uncle Toby- " I croaked, looking around. "Uncle Toby, where -"
I spun and found him.
He was standing just behind me.
His sword was out.
His sword was out and it was... red.
Red?
My lips trembled, no sound came out at first.
Then a whisper found its way out of my throat.
" Why, Uncle Toby? Why is your sword out? Why… why is it red?"
I couldn't believe my eyes.
I refused to believe what I was seeing.
" Did you?? It can't be true, right? Right? "
The blade dripped.
A slow drop slid off, and hit the stone with a pat.
My stomach twisted.
"Right? I screamed at the top of my lungs.
"Tell me it's not what I am thinking!"
He didn't answer.
" SAY SOMETHING, UNCLE!"
His face was pale, eyes sunk deep, like the weight of the world was pressing down on him.
Then his voice came, low and heavy,
"I am sorry, Sirius. It had to be done."
His words confirmed what I didn't want to.
At that moment I wished I had died with Mama back then.