Her touch was a tenderness that he wondered if he deserved. He squeezed her hand and wondered too if it was the last time she would ever willingly touch him. He tried to savor it.
Thomas poured himself more gin, but he didn't pick up the glass just yet. He touched it, turned it in a small circle on the table while he struggled to think of where to begin.
"You remember that I told you about the family? My wretched father and mother?" He did take a drink from his glass, then. "I think I told you that they died, but it's more than that. My sister murdered them. First my father, for his cruelty to me, then our mother, when she threatened to send us both away."
He sighed and sat back, staring at his drink because he could not bear to look at Greta. "We were discovered, of course. I was sent away to a boarding school and Lucille... to an asylum. I did not see her again until I was eighteen. By then the house had been standing empty for a decade, and we were more or less destitute. He had a title, and land, and nothing else."
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timeasmymeasure
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Date: 2018-03-11 02:18 am (UTC)Thomas poured himself more gin, but he didn't pick up the glass just yet. He touched it, turned it in a small circle on the table while he struggled to think of where to begin.
"You remember that I told you about the family? My wretched father and mother?" He did take a drink from his glass, then. "I think I told you that they died, but it's more than that. My sister murdered them. First my father, for his cruelty to me, then our mother, when she threatened to send us both away."
He sighed and sat back, staring at his drink because he could not bear to look at Greta. "We were discovered, of course. I was sent away to a boarding school and Lucille... to an asylum. I did not see her again until I was eighteen. By then the house had been standing empty for a decade, and we were more or less destitute. He had a title, and land, and nothing else."