“I can’t break the cycle, am I just a fool?
Falling down like dominoes, hit by family jewels.”

 The caption for the picture above is a good song, by the way. You should check it out.

When I see the word “root”, the picture of a tree jumps into my mind, depending on the context. Roots provide a tree a secure home, so the word is overall sad to me, because I don’t have roots in a family sense.

Well, I guess I did, but I didn’t have roots before.

I’m autistic, so I generally work differently than other people. I get overwhelmed and excited easily. It’s hard for me to pick up on social cues so I laugh at ‘inappropriate’ times. I don’t understand sarcasm and it’s very hard to talk to me over the internet, because if you are typing in a certain way I think you’re being rude or aggressive (I know, big surprise).

My mother, Francis, didn’t understand me. She thought I was acting like this on purpose. She was convinced other people would call me crazy and it would damn her name if she was known as the marchioness with the crazy daughter. Since always told me things like “quiet hands and big eyes” because I didn’t like to make eye contact and I always flapped excitedly when I was happy. I liked to rock back and forth while sitting down, so sometimes she’d just grab my shoulders and hold me still. Every time I tried to tell her that I saw colours she would dismiss me. Whenever I acted… like myself in public, she’d willow switch me. She once willow switched me so hard I couldn’t stretch without reopening the wounds.

My brother, Edward, loved me. More than how a brother should. He would constantly say he wished that Ciel was dead. How Ciel was undeserving of me, of how sweet and pure I was. When me and Edward were older, he came to the Phantomhive manor with my mother and his stupid fiancee. Her name was Trinity, or something of the sort. He pulled me aside, and told me that he still loved me like that, that he was sorry for what he did to me when we were younger. I hate Edward’s guts.

My father was the only good person in the house. I remember he was the only one who loved me despite how I acted, who wanted me to be happy, who didn’t enjoy the way Francis treated me.

And I killed him. I killed my entire family.


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