Read Online The Star Child (The Star Child Series) by Stephanie Keyes - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Stephanie Keyes
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inhaled deeply, taking it in, trying to imagine that she was there with me.
After I’d touched everything at least once, I sat down in one of two oversized burgundy chairs in the room and leaned into one of the many pillows that covered the chair. This was probably where Gran came to read. Although at first blush it was a little claustrophobic, with the window open I could hear the waves and smell the salt air. It was peaceful once I got over the weird dress and initial musty smell that generally accompanied attics.
Steeling myself, I looked at my mother’s letter in my hand and unceremoniously ripped it open, sliding out the contents. There were more envelopes inside. The first had my name on it, but there was a second there for Roger, which I set aside. Despite our differences, I’d send it out with the morning post.
There could be no more stalling. Taking a deep breath, I began to read.
Kellen,
I know that you were probably surprised to receive this letter. I only recently discovered that you and your brother were told that I was dead. However, I’m very much alive. This is why you need to have the whole story.
First, please know that it was never my intention to leave you. I never wanted to. I love you so much and I have always wanted you, from the moment that you became a part of my life.
Although it isn’t in my nature to speak poorly of anyone, I'm afraid I can’t extend the same courtesy to your father. He is, most definitely, an evil man, and I can never forgive him.
When you were about five years old, I became sick. The doctors said it was cancer and that I wouldn't last long. At first your father was an excellent caregiver, but then he stopped checking on me and started ignoring me. I became very weak as a result of his neglect; one time, a whole week went by before anyone offered me food or helped me bathe. I believe he told you that I was on a women’s retreat that week.
Eventually, I managed to make my way from the guest room where I was staying to my own room that I shared with your father. When I found him, he explained that I’d lived much longer than he expected, and now my care was becoming too much of a burden. Therefore, he was going to place me in a long-term care unit. I protested, but he assured me that someone would bring you boys to visit me.
I found out shortly thereafter that he wasn't sending me to a long-term care unit; he was having me committed to a mental hospital. I couldn't believe it. He'd already broken my heart but now he was taking my humanity as well.
I woke up, after what I believe was a week later, in a facility in Northern Scotland. I don't believe that anyone actually knows I have cancer here, so I’m not being treated for it. One would assume that lack of treatment would speed up my death, but that hasn’t been the case.
I tried to write to all of you when I got here, but one day, when I pretended to take my medication, I overheard the nurse say that she was given orders to destroy all of my correspondence. I have no doubt that your father is behind this as well.
I was recently moved to a new room though, and it’s probably the nicest part of this place. It’s circular, with a lot of light, which I enjoy. It’s lonely here, though. I have no roommate and, as I’m arguably the only sane person here, no one to talk to. I’ve gotten very good at pretending to take my medication and trying to look disoriented most of the time. Although it probably would dull the pain of the cancer, I prefer to remain lucid.
As I write this letter, nine hundred and one days have passed and I don’t know if you’ll ever see this message. A new nurse here is kind and brought me some paints. She’s promised to get this to your Gran, though I don’t know if she’ll follow through with my request. I can only hope.
I would give my life to be with you every day. I miss you more than anything.
Mom
My hand was shaking as I held the letter. “Bastard. You bastard, Father!”
After I’d touched everything at least once, I sat down in one of two oversized burgundy chairs in the room and leaned into one of the many pillows that covered the chair. This was probably where Gran came to read. Although at first blush it was a little claustrophobic, with the window open I could hear the waves and smell the salt air. It was peaceful once I got over the weird dress and initial musty smell that generally accompanied attics.
Steeling myself, I looked at my mother’s letter in my hand and unceremoniously ripped it open, sliding out the contents. There were more envelopes inside. The first had my name on it, but there was a second there for Roger, which I set aside. Despite our differences, I’d send it out with the morning post.
There could be no more stalling. Taking a deep breath, I began to read.
Kellen,
I know that you were probably surprised to receive this letter. I only recently discovered that you and your brother were told that I was dead. However, I’m very much alive. This is why you need to have the whole story.
First, please know that it was never my intention to leave you. I never wanted to. I love you so much and I have always wanted you, from the moment that you became a part of my life.
Although it isn’t in my nature to speak poorly of anyone, I'm afraid I can’t extend the same courtesy to your father. He is, most definitely, an evil man, and I can never forgive him.
When you were about five years old, I became sick. The doctors said it was cancer and that I wouldn't last long. At first your father was an excellent caregiver, but then he stopped checking on me and started ignoring me. I became very weak as a result of his neglect; one time, a whole week went by before anyone offered me food or helped me bathe. I believe he told you that I was on a women’s retreat that week.
Eventually, I managed to make my way from the guest room where I was staying to my own room that I shared with your father. When I found him, he explained that I’d lived much longer than he expected, and now my care was becoming too much of a burden. Therefore, he was going to place me in a long-term care unit. I protested, but he assured me that someone would bring you boys to visit me.
I found out shortly thereafter that he wasn't sending me to a long-term care unit; he was having me committed to a mental hospital. I couldn't believe it. He'd already broken my heart but now he was taking my humanity as well.
I woke up, after what I believe was a week later, in a facility in Northern Scotland. I don't believe that anyone actually knows I have cancer here, so I’m not being treated for it. One would assume that lack of treatment would speed up my death, but that hasn’t been the case.
I tried to write to all of you when I got here, but one day, when I pretended to take my medication, I overheard the nurse say that she was given orders to destroy all of my correspondence. I have no doubt that your father is behind this as well.
I was recently moved to a new room though, and it’s probably the nicest part of this place. It’s circular, with a lot of light, which I enjoy. It’s lonely here, though. I have no roommate and, as I’m arguably the only sane person here, no one to talk to. I’ve gotten very good at pretending to take my medication and trying to look disoriented most of the time. Although it probably would dull the pain of the cancer, I prefer to remain lucid.
As I write this letter, nine hundred and one days have passed and I don’t know if you’ll ever see this message. A new nurse here is kind and brought me some paints. She’s promised to get this to your Gran, though I don’t know if she’ll follow through with my request. I can only hope.
I would give my life to be with you every day. I miss you more than anything.
Mom
My hand was shaking as I held the letter. “Bastard. You bastard, Father!”
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