After my encounter with Charles, we met every afternoon, it was our secret hiding, and we had a great time together. Charles was a very mature boy; I knew he was hiding from something and someone, but if he was not confident enough to speak about it, then I was in no right to ask about it. In the meantime, Camille's job at the castle took most of her time; from four days a week, she had two more days. Pierre and I were mostly alone in the house, and his bullying worsened as time passed. Our mother started to look older and thinner, paler too. I noticed there was something odd about Camille's health. 

I was twelve years old and remember going to the forest to see Charles while my mother was working, and Pierre had some "things to do" with a lady. I couldn't find him anywhere around. Still, I waited for him; in the meantime, I drew the pond and its surroundings; it was a hobby I learned from my mom, the other one. I heard someone stepping on the grass; it was Charles. He looked worn and had his hair untied, covering part of his left eye.

"Oh, you are still here."

Charles's response at seeing me there had mixed feelings; in some way, he seemed relieved, and in another way, he was depressed.

"I thought you were not coming."

"Sorry, I had to deal with some inconvenience."

"Is something wrong?"

"No."

I left the drawing and walked to Charles until I was barely a step away from him. Removing the hair off his face, I saw a red spot on his left eye.

"Who did this?"

I queried with anger.

"No one."

He turned away from me.

"I will question you repeatedly until I get an answer."

"Oh, you are so annoying!"

He raised his voice.

"You know I am! Charles, you must talk to your parents if somebody harms you."

"It's not worth it."

I hugged him with all my strength. I felt Charles wanted to cry; he was stubborn and prideful and contained all his sadness. 

We stayed there together until sunset without any exchange of words. Just sitting next to each other, contemplating the scenery.

"Thank you."

Charles finally spoke.

"For what?"

"For being honest and kind."

"I can be kind, but I'm not honest. I will, someday."

Laying my head on his shoulder, I held myself from talking more than I should. I wanted to tell Charles about my past, and I was still determining how he would react to learning the truth.

"I'll be waiting for that day."

Later that day, I was preparing dinner. Camille returned from her job at the palace, and my arrogant-good-for-nothing of a brother was waiting at the table. I served them their food and sat to eat all together.

"At least you have something to offer to a man; this tastes delicious."

Pierre laughed.

"Shut up."

I said and hit him with a spoon.

"Behave."

Camille's voice denoted disgust.

"Because I'm a girl? Should I act more like a lady?"

"No, because we should be enjoying this family time."

Family? A term I could not use for the three of us when I still held the memories of the family I cherished so much in the past. This relationship was meant to fall apart where no love or sincerity existed.

"Mom, give up. Just look at her! She is a lost case."

Pierre pointed at me.

"Keep your mouth shut before I pour soup on your perfect self."

I warned Pierre.

"See? I'm worried you'll never find a man and leave this house."

"Will I ever be able to see the two of you getting along?"

Camille asked us, scratching her head as if that would help her understand her children.

"Sorry, mother, I can't give you high hopes."

Pierre replied.

"I shook my head."

"You will only have the two of you in the not-so-far future."

Camille left the table with nothing more to say. My brother and I exchanged sights of regret.

That night was the last time we could share with our mother. Pierre found her dead body at the house's entrance the next morning. She left us with all her savings to live peacefully for a few years.