A few weeks before Autumn’s arrival at Veritas’s Castle.

Today has been such a bore. James went out hunting but of course he wouldn’t bring me, not that I expressed a desire to go in the first place. My fault perhaps…on another note, Father and Mother visited today. Mother was cold as usual not that I expected anything less but once Father and I left to go to walk the gardens my mood lightened. It was rather nostalgic; I’ve not walked with him like that in years. It brought back such memories of happiness that I used to have before when I was a child. His words were not the happiest either though. It seems that they have been talking to James and while my back was turned, they have all agreed that I should travel somewhere safer along with most of the Royal family. I’m sure that’s what James is worried about, my safety, really. He couldn’t care less about my wellbeing anymore. But alas, as always, Father’s departure came too soon and all I could do was wave to their carriage as they rumbled off right after lunch.

I wish they had not left so soon. Because they were worse today. I don’t think that I’ve had such a bad sighting since I was younger, before I left home to be with James. A man was just standing there in the hallway, lounging against a pillar nonchalantly. He approached me casually but with a certain purpose about him. There were no imperfections in his features; I couldn’t tell the apparition from the real things around him, I can always tell the difference, there is always a distinction that I can ascertain. I saw him draw the blade, pulling it back and before I could call out, before I could comprehend what was happening, he stabbed me through the neck. The pain…was so real this time it petrified me. I broke down, falling to my knees, my hands on my throat. I was unable to stem the hot tears that stung my eyes as they dripped from my chin. But as I looked up, he had dissipated, the blood on my hands gone. I must have made a fool of myself, sobbing in the middle of the hallway after crying out. As I stood, I wiped my face and turned from their questioning glances so full of suspicion. But it doesn’t matter what they believe, they cannot accuse me of anything. There is no proof. There never will be.

I sit now in my room, knowing I have to be strong, hoping that I won’t fail. It’s hard sometimes, to ignore what I know to be false, be it seen or otherwise. Sometimes I wish my imaginary world would just take me away from everything. Is it wrong for me to want to run sometimes? Yes. Dead. Wrong. I cannot run and admit any fault. Ever.