I had a happy life – to a point. A dedicated husband and two beautiful children, Noah and Violet. The little red head who hung around the house more often than was appropriate seemed a constant reminder that my husband’s dedication wasn’t to me but he was dedicated none the less.
Both of our children should have been set for life as heirs to a great fortune but since they were small they have had this inexplicable need to get rid of each other.
We live in the coastal town of Melway. Our own house – a large, crooked, stand alone structure with three floors – sits on the edge of a cliff. A forty foot drop into the rocks below awaits anyone who takes the wrong steps along the pathway. The house has been in the Regard family for generations. It was probably the most beautiful and grandest house in the area once upon a time but now it is a cold and empty vessel housing the Regard children until came of age to move to somewhere more cosmopolitan or one kills the other.
As a family we were close. We didn’t talk much but when we did we shared everything. Violet told me on more than one occasion she wanted to see her brother dead and as far as Noah was concerned the sentiment was mutual. What little scamps they were.
Violet was the most boisterous of the two. She rarely stayed indoors. She was always running, never walking. She climbed trees and even got into fights with the local boys. Noah was much quieter. He would spend hours in the library reading through volumes and volumes that he could barely understand yet. A great, unquestionable thirst for knowledge had my little Noah. He had many friends but kept them at a distance. He was his own favourite companion. The year or so he had spent as an only child had been a blissful time for him. He had my undivided attention as well as the sole attention of the staff who helped around The Grange. As is the norm with more than one child in a family the attentions were split. Noah probably grew a resentment towards baby Violet from there, growing stronger as they grew up. Violet no doubt felt this from her brother and sowed seeds of her own resentment.
Everything at The Grange must have seemed heavenly to those on the outside looking in. That was until my death and that is where this story begins.
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