Erin had gotten the gift from Chi and for two days it sat on the dresser in her room in the Red Dragon Inn. Next to the faberge egg retrieved from the floorboards of the manner, and in front of the necklace she dared not wear.

And for two days she was unsure what to do with it.

The book could not replace the small black one that she filled with her thoughts and feelings every night. It was too beautiful. But, also, it could not go unused. It had been given to her.

She felt, partially, that the book was an expression of a strange comrodiere. That they were in this messy new start business together. She wanted to just burn her old journal, burn all of her things, move back into the inn and start over.

But that was ridiculous.

And so it sat.

After her fight with Lydia, the letters and thoughts, discussions and confessions to many... Erin knew she needed salvation. A saving grace, a listening ear, a home, a place to just deconstruct.

She could not ask anyone to be that for her. She could not lay it at Chi's feet. That hadn't worked with Sebastian. It was at her own. And how would she tackle such a feat?

The journal.

And so on the third day, she placed it in her bag along with her knitting and various books she was pretending to read. The notebook she designed in and the journal she cried to. And would begin to ruin it's purity with that dark blue pen.

http://i58.photobucket.com/albums/g249/Laetcya/journal2.jpg

The first thing I can remember of my Mother is Christmas. I couldn't have been any older than five, and I had this beautiful red dress. It was itchy, all the tulle, but I truely loved the colors. The white lace set over the bright red fabric. It was ordered from somewhere or another and I wasn't allowed to eat or drink in it.

My mother found me, spinning around in the hall. The floors were wood and you could slide just right in your stockings. I loved to do that, just slide around the room like I was ice skating, or spin and spin to see my dresses flare out around me. I would always end up wrinkled, and usually a bit bruised.

This time, my mother came and she snatched me up off the floor. She set me down on the kitchen counter and just stared down at me. I wasn't always as short as I am, I was a normal size then, and she glowered at me, hovering over. My mother was a refined woman. Tall and blonde with a long British nose and a strong set mouth. She personified Britain. She was made to be queen. I was always weaker, frailer, lighter. I had delicate features, and my Grandmother used to joke that I looked French. Pale and sweet.

Anyway, my mother looked down at me, and she pointed at me with one of the most beaitifully manicured nails I've ever seen and she said. "Erinalle, you are to stop spinning in that dress. You'll rumple it."

And, I remember this as clearly as if it were yesterday, I tilted my head up at her and I said, "But Mama, what are a few wrinkles compared to having fun?"

She stared at me, her mouth open and just shook her head. The lecture that followed, parts of it, I think, will forever be in my mind. Lips pursed and red in the face. I was the only one that could ever anger my mother.

"Erinalle," she said, "This life is not about fun. It is not about what you want. It's about presenting yourself in a respectable way. It's about honoring your parents and your country. It's about honoring yourself." She leaned back against the counter then, and sighed. It was a sigh as if she had already given up on the wild child she had birthed. As if I had been raised by wolves.

"Now listen to me, Erin..." She so rarely used the nickname that would become my name. Too tired for the title like name she had given me. "Listen to me... There are going to be many times in life when it's going to be so much easier to throw all you have learned to the wind and just be. But God did not make us Englishwomen to float around life crumpling dresses and playing in mud. We have been given a gift. A wonderful gift. Wealth and influence and... I don't expect you to understand this, or even to remember it, but..." My mother laughed in a way I had rarely ever heard her laugh. As if she realized suddenly she was mad for talking to her only daughter the way she was. Five years old and fidgeting. "We must fight the urges to be like them. The masses. They pull and call to us like a magnet. But it will only get you pain... those people, the ones that drink and smoke and eat in dingy restaurants with dingy clothes... their smiles are only masks for a much deeper pain than either of us will ever feel. They starve and toil and are the footstool for us. They are what we use to get closer to heaven... I do not want that for you. That petty existence. You will be great. You will walk and sit with dignity. You will have a title and children that are revered. You will stand on the backs of the masses. "

And then my mother hugged me. She was crying a touch. I never really understood why... What caused her disdain for everyone and everything that wasn't what she deemed better. Bigger. But I do know that I never spun in the hall again. I never questioned my place, or stepped out of line, or spoke back, or even spilled my tea. Because of that look on her face as she was crying...

I think, maybe, that's why I pushed so hard later... I had never found the lifestyle by myself. It was just something I did out of love for my mother... and later, when I was at that age of rebellion. When I wanted to be as far from her as possible-- I just pushed it all away.

And that, really, is when the trouble began. I think that is when I started to unravel....

Half a pack of cigarettes and a bottle of whiskey later...And I remember things. I haven't written in this thing in a long time. I guess I didn't want to remember things anymore....but I can't put this out of my head.

Anna.

I would say the last time we really spoke, really were friends was just after I fell out the window. Sophomore year. She came to see me in the hospital, and you could tell the was crying. Her eyes were red, her face puffy... and the way she looked at me...

I'll always remember what she said next.

"Erin," And the tone in her voice. It was so pained. "You've been my best friend, my sister, my confidant... but I can't do it anymore. I can't watch you destroy yourself. I can't watch you throw away everything you have just because your scared of your mother. Of letting your mother down. Of being what she wants. Or not being what she wants."

And her hands were clutched at her sides. And her eyes were focused on my leg, propped up in a hanging sling.

"I can't spend my life trying to hold you from the brink."

Then she left.

But then she was there. After graduation, when I got married. When it seemed like i was calmer. When I was happy. And we did everything together. And we were happy together and cried together and loved each other and she was my everything. So many nights we fell asleep leaning on each other, whispering of out dreams and hopes, cares and dreams...

When Chrissy died. And we buried her... Anna was there for me, but I shut her out. I wouldn't talk to her. I wouldn't look at her. I wouldn't reach out. I was so mad that she could have children, that she was talking about it, and planning for it... that she would have the life that I was so sure I would get. I couldn't let her in anymore.

And that was that.

She called and i didnt' answer. She came to the house, and I didn't come down. I wandered, I suffered, I held myself apart. And eventually she just stopped trying.

When I ran away, my mother looked for me. And later, when I came back, she told me that Anna was out there every night looking. That she tried as hard as she could to find where I had gone. THat while I was wandering the woods in Northern Rhydin she was searching Regents Park. She cried every night. My mother said she spent a week at the house.

But when I came back it killed her, I think. That I had abandoned her. I still have.

She can't spend her life holding me from the brink. Part of me knows I ran from her because that was all I wanted. I wanted her to keep me from the brink. I wanted her to draw me back. I needed a firm hand and a good smile.

It wasn't for Richard that I left London, it was for Anna. And I replaced her with Lydia, sure. Someone to keep me safe. But in the end, all that does is ruin people.

"Erin," She said one time. "I will always love you like a sister. I will always love you like my own, but no one can save you but yourself. And, honestly, I don't think you want to be saved. I think you want to fade away... and you just use people to talk you out of it. I can't be responsible for your life."

And she was right. I use people to keep me alive.