At Least I Have Help
697 Words
My father was a writer. He documented everyone that stepped inside his inn, especially anyone peculiar. However, he also wrote a lot about his personal life, even before my mother came into the picture. So far back to when he was a child even.
It was strange, learning that my grandfather liked alcohol a little too much and that was what actually became his killer. My father never knew his mother but I found an old painting of her tucked in some of the oldest journals. She was hard to point out in the old paper but, nonetheless, I placed the picture aside to look at later.
The day he felt his mark was one of no importance or so he claims in his writing. He hadn't like his father and it was good news to him that he was gone. He even went through as much effort to draw out the mark. I traced my own as I scanned over the rest of the journal.
I sighed as I set that journal aside and turned to the pile. There were too much. There wasn't an order, no dates. Only words.
"Alaina?" I rubbed my face as an involuntary smile came to my face as Felix popped his head through the narrowly open door, "you do know that there is a perfectly good bed behind you?"
I shrugged from my position on the ground with journals surrounding me. He rolled his eyes as he came in and closed the doors behind him. He took care to avoid stepping on the journals before plopping down on the ground beside me. He wordlessly grabbed one after noticing the pile of finished ones.
"So, this is what you lock yourself in your room for," he commented as he flipped through some pages.
I smiled as I leaned against him as I flipped through the dusty journal in my hands. I have yet to find any mention of anything relevant to our situation. Sure, there might be interesting memories, like how my parents met, but I couldn't find a thing.
"Erin," Felix started reading out loud after we had fallen into silence, "has been acting strange these past few weeks. Mumbling on and on about some man that he would not name. Claiming that he holds the power to win this war once and for all. Once confronted about it, he claims ignorance or worse...that I had been imagining it."
I frowned and leaned over more to read the words as Felix continued reading out loud.
"When I had introduced Elizabeth to Fergus and Erin, I was met with mixed reactions. Fergus seemed happy for me but Erin turned angry. Elizabeth had assured me that she and Erin have never met though he claimed otherwise. I fear that I would have to keep him away from her."
"So, he was crazy even back then," I muttered as I sat back.
"He was always claiming that you were his. That we wouldn't take you away from him like they did her," Felix said with narrowed eyes. There was an anger there. A protective anger.
"This could have been when Erin first found Norrix," I said. He nodded as he continued looking through the pages.
"Erin has...been getting violent. Whenever he's near her, it's like he is possessed. He attacks me, both physically and verbally. I didn't like that. The day that I asked for her hand in marriage, he become more distraught. So distraught that Fergus had to drag him out of the room. I didn't see him again that night. I took Elizabeth and flew off."
"And?" I asked as he trailed off.
"Nothing," he said, "that's when the journal ends."
"Come on, Poppa!" I yelled with a moan as I stood.
"It's okay," Felix said as he pulled me back down, "we have all day to figure this out."
"I know but-" he stopped me with a quick kiss.
"No buts," he said with a satisfied look on his face, "we can do this."
"Fine," I said with my cheeks pink. He always found a way to make me blush. I grabbed the journal and placed it in the finished pile. Only a lot more to go.
Great. But...I smiled at Felix as he looked through one. At least I have help.
- Writer
