*~*Sickness to Your Heart*~* (Love&translucentfeathers)

[LoveTheWayYouLie]

With You the Pain Isn't So Bad.​

A story by LoveTheWayYouLie and translucentfeathers

Moonlight Sonata

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*​

The darkness had started to release around the young, ten year old Vanessa's sight about a hour after her beating. She had been left on the floor of the hallway, left to bleed and lay there, struggling to breath from the damage her mother had inflected on her ribs.

Her small frame laid on the wood, and wheezed for breath. Even choking on the blood that eased from her mouth and nose. This is what she got for shoving Vincent back up the steps to force him away from the danger that was coming.

They had heard their mother playing the piano in the den at the bottom floor, and thought that she wouldn't hear them playing from the upper hallway and in the library. Their nanny was out of the home that day, leaving them alone with their mother. It was stupid of them to think that they could play. But the music being played had been upbeat, so the young siblings had assumed their mother was in a good mood. Of course, her moods changed with the wind.

That's when Vincent had accidentally knocked a candle stick off one the tables. It hit the floor with a clatter and the wax spilled from the candle sticks to all over the hallway rug and wood. Both siblings had looked at each other in sheer fear as their mother smashed her hands down on the piano keys as soon as the loud sound had echoed through the house.

“Go....Run!” Vanessa had whispered to Vincent and pushed her little brother back towards the steps that led upstairs to their area of the house. The sound of their mothers heels on the old wood was heard, her cane hitting the wood hard after her steps. Their mother was angry. “Vincent go!” She ordered and shoved him up the steps just as her mother came around the corner of the steps that led to the den below.

“What are you little monsters doing out of your rooms?!” She snapped, she was a tall and slender woman with raven hair. It was tied up on her head, and was lined with gray streaks from aging. Gray eyes saw the mess her children had made and she snarled at her eldest daughter.

“Mommy please.....” Vanessa said softly and lifted her hands at the attack she knew was coming. “It was me....Vincent stayed upstairs....please mommy...I'm sorry...” She said just as that cane was lifted back and clocked Vanessa in the face. Knocking her to the ground, her golden curls fell around her face as she landed. Lady Clara Crowley taught her daughter a lesson like she always did, to not leave the attic rooms! Hitting her with her cane over and over as the small girl screamed in pain. Her cries heard throughout the house as she took the beating for her brother. This wasn't the first time....but it was the first time it had been this rough.

Lady Clara didn't stop till her daughter was no longer moving under her hits or screaming. She watched the blood drip from her daughters hidden face as her blonde hair had fallen to hide it from site, but the blood streamed from her.

“You know the rules Devil child. No children out of the attic.” Lady Clara's eyes turned up the steps to look at her son. She sneered at him, “The same goes for you, you sniveling little brat.”

With those last hateful words Lady Clara turned from her lifeless daughter and back down the steps. The long tail of her dress smeared in the blood and trailed after her as she walked. Uncaring that her daughter may even be dead from her actions. If anything she would have found that a blessing. To rid herself of such useless children that did nothing more than use up their resources. Taking money to cloth them, feed them, teach them. They were wastes.

Then, as if nothing had happened, Lady Clara sat back down at her piano in the den and started the music right back where she had left off.

A good half an hour passed before Vanessa's blue eyes even opened and she began to regain consciousness. Struggling to breath or to catch her breath, her hand reach out shaking along the floor. “.....b..brother...?....” Her horse voice quietly whispered, finding her only strength is sitting up was to see if Vincent was alright. Unsure if her mother had beat him too in her rage. Her small arms pushed herself up off the floor ever so slowly. Shaking the whole while, and blood dripped from her nose and lips.

Her mother had busted her lip clean open from the first hit, and surely broke her nose. Another cut was along her eye brow by her eye, as it bleed down her face. She took the abuse, she took the horror...all for her brother. It was all for love. If they didn't have each other, they had no one. They were no one.

*~*~*~*~*~*​

The years passed from this moment, just like sand in an hour glass. As the children of the Crowley house hold grew older, their parents allowed them to leave the attic. Oh course, the attic was still where the brother and sister had their small rooms, and living area. This did not mean the beatings or the abuse eased, it was far from the case. Their father, Sir Morgan Crowley was a large beast of a man. Tall and fit with all the patience of a nat. He was quick to his temper on everyone, from his wife to the very little help left in the Crowley home.

Lady Clara had grown no less bitter and hateful towards her children either, even though she allowed them out of their rooms, she had only done this because her own health concerns were an issue and she needed to be attended to. Her husband had come home one night to learn that all their families money was nearing its end, no matter how hard he attempted to win it back through the markets that took it. But without steady in come from their home, and both he and his wife's love of travel and the best of things, they were nearly down to nothing.

In an argument, Sir Morgan lost his head and struck his smaller and much weaker wife. Knocking her to the ground from where the children watched from the top of the steps. In his rage, he had broke her leg under his boot. Leaving her there as he left the home and took a horse to town. Only then, didn't Lady Clara call for her children and the remaining help from the house. Timidly her children had come to her aid......taking her to her room and with the help of a doctor, took care of her.

The evening was quiet tonight and Lady Clara was passed out from her nightly tonic she took for the pain in her leg. Sleeping soundly in her lavish bed on the second floor and in the west wing of the home. The servants were all in their area of the home, eating and talking among each other. There was only a few of them left. Two men, two women, and the nanny. The nanny was no longer needed as their Crowley children where now grown, but she stayed as a source of mother comfort to them.

The wind outside blew hard against the old frame of the mansion, causing the house to moan under its sound. The home had severely lost its glory from what it used to be. Vanessa had never seen it be anything other than this trash pit. The carpets were rubbed nearly bare, and the furniture was nearly beyond years of use. Everything was worn and used in this house, as there was no money for anything new. There hadn't been money for anything....for a long time. It was a blessing they were got by. With what their father did make was used to feed them all, house them, and pay their servants nearly nothing.

The sound of the piano played quietly from the den in low somber tones. It was not Lady Clara who sat there now, it was Vanessa. Sitting here made her feel like she had some sense of ownership in her life. As if everything around her wasn't sheer chaos and pain, it grounded her, it let her thoughts ease and clear from their normally wild ideas.

Her fingers danced lightly over the ivory keys of the well toned piano, and her long golden hair was tied up on her head. Bits and pieces fell around her face in loose ringlets, while no jewelry hung on her. She didn't own any. Her big blue eyes were closed, and she ignored a bruise on her cheek from where her mother smacked her earlier that day from her bed side for feeding her the wrong soup.

One her plump ruby lips there was a light scar from when she was a child, as well as a scar right above her eye. None the less, Vanessa was beautiful. A true site to behold, as her fingers danced on the keys in the dimly light den. Her dress was the color of deep purple, with black lace around her neck and wrists. It was a simple dress as they didn't have enough money to buy anything outlandish. Nor did she really care on matters like that.

What did matter was the conversation she had with mother that day. Well more like her mother telling her something. It seemed that when Sir Morgan had his yearly hunt at their home, one of the men had shown a liking to Vanessa. The young man came from a very rich family and Sir Morgan was in talks with the Lockslot family in regards to arranging a marriage. Vanessa had said nothing to mother as she spoke on this, having gotten a letter from father on the subject that day.

Why hadn't she said anything? Because she felt like she was going to throw up. She had only seen Sir Robert Locklot for a total of fifteen minutes when she went out to the stables were the men were, just to give them their riding leathers the servants had cleaned. How could Sir Robert even taken a fancy to her so quickly, it all seemed so....strange to her. Vanessa hadn't even notice him outside of knowing who he was, and that alone. Vanessa didn't notice men in all honesty, well she did, but that was best kept a secret from every soul.

Another howl of wind gusted against the old home, and snow flakes started to fall from the dark cloud covered sky.

 

[translucentfeathers]

Vincent hadn't meant to. Wide eyes watched as the candle stick fell from the small table in the entry way of their home. It clattered noisily against the hard wooden floor covered by an ornate rug, the hot liquid wax spilled over the floor, their bright dancing flames being snuffed out by the fall.

He had been bored, their confinement to the attic had worn on him and their nanny not coming to care for them and keep them company had left him feeling restless. Vincent had spent the morning pacing and staring out the window listlessly as he ignored his sisters attempts to cheer him up.

When the idea of slipping out and sneaking downstairs to get a book or some sweets from the kitchen had been suggested, a spike of fear and excitement raced through him. It wss only due to their mothers light almost happy playing he agreed, otherwise the fear of being caught would have outweighed his wants for escape.

Vincent's face crumpled at the realization of what he had done and he shook when their mother's hands stopped playing at the sound before slamming hard against the keys of the piano. He heard Vanessa urging him to run, pushing at him to go back up the stairs and he turned, scrambling up the steps as their mother's shrill voice snapped at them bitterly.

He heard mother approaching, the click of her heels against the dark oak floors as she stalked out of the parlor she had been playing in into the entry way. It was then Vincent glanced back to ask Vanessa what they should do when he realized his sister had not followed.

The young boy stopped, eyes widening as he noticed she had stayed, standing at the base of the steps next to the fallen candles, between him and mother. He pressed his face agsinst the railings and banister, small hands clinging to the wood as he heard his sister take the blame, claiming she had made the mess.

The beating was savage, and he flinched at each strike the woman inflicted upon Vanessa, unable to tear his large dark eyes from his sister even as she fell in a crumpled heap beneath their mothers savage screams and vicious blows.

When mother finished he shrank back under the dark glare she gave him and snarled out her warnings before she left, the music of the piano starting up once again to fill the dark cold house with a bright tune that didn't fit their mother's mood.

Vincent crept down the steps, falling to his knees. "Vanessa?" He whispered, small hand wanting to reach out, wanting to soothe her, hug her, but the blood and bruising left him frightened he would hurt her more than help. So instead he lay on the ground next to her, brushing her golden blood stained hair from her eyes as he curled up next to her on the floor. "Vanessa please wake up."

He waited for her to come back before noticing she had fallen on the melted wax and over the candles and he sat back up to try and slip them out from under her, away so she could lay evenly on the floor without the metal holder digging into her.

It was then Vincent heard his sister stir, her voice shaking as she struggled to sit up, calling for him and looking. He quickly sat in front of her, dark eyes meeting her blue ones, as he fought back tears seeing the results of her defending him.

Reaching out he used the corner of his sleeve to wipe at the blood gingerly on her upper lip and nose to keep it from getting into her mouth. It had been his fault, his clumsy fumbling that had brought on the attack. He should have been the one battered and bleeding and he ignored the way tears began welling up in his eyes before spilling over the edge silently.

"Right here, sister, always right here."

~~~~~​

It had been almost ten years since that night, though nothing had changed, not truly. Vincent walked through the dark halls of their fsmily estate, the soft gentle melody of music slipping from the parlor was comforting, almost soothing in its dulcet tones when he knew the fingers at the keys were his sisters and not their mother.

He had always loved to hear Vanessa play, his own desires to learn having been immediately squashed and dismissed by his mothers quiet terse reply and later again fathers angry disapproving fists.

Father had always disliked him, his pale complexion, black hair and dark grey eyes resembling mother spurned his distaste in Vincent's appearance. Adding on that as he grew he never quite developed into the broad shouldered musculature that Sir Morgan had hoped for his son, instead he was more lithe and slender, his strength hidden within his whiplike frame rather than displayed blatantly in an athletic build.

It coaxed more beatings from the man, constantly attempting to force the smooth soft tones and quieter activites from his son, trying to force him to be the man he wanted Vincent to be, the man he as a father thought deserved to carry on the Crowley name.

Sir Morgan hated his children, but detestes Vincent nearly as much if not even more than his wife. The brutal beating he had endured the day before last had left his back and legs raw when the man had thrown him down the steps, taking a his leather belt to him when he failed to get up and "walk off the pain" of the fall.

Vincent's gripped tightened on the book as he slipped into the dimly lit parlor where his sister sat. He crossed the room silently, easing gently onto the small couch before opening the book he was reading, though he found himself glancing up to admire Vanessa every few minutes as she played.

She had always been the protective and strongest of the two as children, stepping between Vincent and their mother on multiple occasions. He wondered if this is why Lady Clara favored him more.

No, he thought decidedly, Morgan and Clara Crowley did not have favorites, they merely had one child they chose to focus their cruel attentions on more than the other. Lady Clara hated Vanessa with her beauty and brightness, and Sir Morgan loathed the mere sight of Vincent, deeming him not a worthy son.

Vincent ignored the anger and rage and hurt the abuse and neglect had imprinted upon him, squashing it down as he focused on his book, eyes flitting over the page. He was not permitted to read or be seen doing the more 'gentile' things when father was home, and he was grateful for the brief reprieve they had been granted when the man left this afternoon to go into the city for a day or so.

Though, there was a slight sense of apprehension Vincent felt but he would wait to confirm his fears until his sister had stopped playing. The letter he had seen in her desk drawer had been accidental, stumbling across it as he searched for the jar of ink he had lent her last week, needing it to use for his studies that morning. It had left a cold feeling in his chest, but he returned his attentions to the words on the pages of the book in his hands, ignoring the way they melted together and he was left unable to focus.

 

[LoveTheWayYouLie]

The night Vanessa got the scar on her lip was nothing like the rest of her days. Every single day was spent in misery while her parents were around. Thankfully their father was gone a lot on business, so they had times were things weren't as horrible. Their best days were when no one was home, their mother in town, and their father in some country far away. Happily using up the family money only to blame their mother as to why there wasn't any money anymore. A vicious cycle of abuse is all that ran through this home.

Lady Crowley was hateful to her daughter, jealous of her beauty and hated her for ruining their lives with being a growing child. She didn't care for her son, he was a shame excuse for a son. He was slender and not manly. He liked to read, and dance. A part of her wondered if her son enjoyed the company of men because he certainly seemed like the type of boy.

Which only increased the abuse Vincent received from their father. Angry that his son wasn't a strapping hunter of a man. Vanessa still got the hand of her father, which normally she blacked out from. He had large, strong hands and could hit her so hard it would knock her out cold when he did hit her. Normally over cold coffee, or that he didn't like her dress. Anything she attack her for, he did.

Never in her life could she understand what her and Vincent ever did to make their parents hate them so much. They had done nothing to them but be born, and that seemed to be enough. If it hadn't been for the Nanny, they wouldn't have made it out of childhood. Now, as Vanessa grew older, she tried to understand why her parents treated them like this. The only explanation she could gather was that her parents were mentally ill. Or at least that is what she read in the many books. That didn't stop her from knowing they hated them just because of their birth, and nothing else.

The moment Vincent was born, Vanessa had been in love. Their mother didn't even want to hold him when he was born, so the Nanny was quick to take him on as her own while he was small. Vanessa could remember being small, and getting on her tip toes to look into the bassinet. Only to see a small babe, wrapped in gray blankets with a head of black hair. His skin was like white paper, with rosy cheeks. All Vanessa could think was there was a sleeping angel before her, and her little heart cried out at his beauty. She had cried that moment when she was three, her little brother was prefect and she would do anything to protect him and love him.

She made that vow, and she would never break it.

Even now as she sat at the piano and her fingers danced along the keys, she was thankful that she didnt have to rush to her brothers rescue for being out in the house. It would be a lie to say she didn't love the moment their father broke their mothers leg. It gave them an excuse to escape the attic, and that their mother couldn't be so nasty with them anymore. Yes, she was still horrible and would hit them if they were close. But it was nothing like when they were children. Both of them older now and the hits from their elderly mother didnt hurt so much anymore.

She heard Vincent coming into the room, his boots on the hard wood floors. She always knew when he was close, as they were far closer than any brother and sister should be. Spending years alone, locked away in the attic. They were close on all levels. They knew each others dreams, and fears. They also had found themselves in moments that many siblings would shy away from, in regards to intimate moments. They had never fully laid together, but moments had come that where, sexual in nature between them. They didn't speak of them of course, but they happened.

It wold be a lie to think that Vanessa didn't think of wanting her brother in that fashion. He was handsome, smart, and so very kind. Where she was hateful, cold, and distant, Vincent could be so friendly and loving. It made her feel wanted, and that she wasn't alone in this harsh and hard world. She had Vincent and that's all she needed.

Once her fingers stopped moving on the keys, she sighed and slid her fingers off the ivory. Sighing as the house was now quiet. Outside of the moaning wind that was bringing the snow and the fire that popped and cracked in the parlor they had taken for themselves this night.

“....Evening brother...” Vanessa said softly as she turned on the bench and looked at him. A small smile came to her lips as she looked at him in all his glory. This gray eyes and black curls, he was beyond handsome to her and it made her heart jump in her chest. Her eyes looking over the book he was reading and she sighed heavily, “Such a quiet evening....what are you reading...” She said softly before she stood from the bench and walked to her brother.

 

[translucentfeathers]

"Plato's cave," he said quietly before shutting the book to glance up at his sister, his cool grey eyes locking onto her deep blue ones from across the room. Vincent took the moment to study her face, her lovely features, the way her hair glinted in the dimly lit parlor from the flickering candle light.

With a soft sigh he shook his head, setting the book onto the table next to the lounge sofa he had settled on. "Vanessa," he began quietly, almost feeling ashamed about his admittance in finding something out by going through her things, but unable to go on another hour without asking her. It was rare they had quiet moments where there was no threat for abuse or violence outside of their room in the attic and to bring up such an ugly topic there...

He bit his lip as his brow furrowed, focusing on the ornate rug that sat underneath the heavy frame of the piano. "I found the letter, the one from father," he said with a small frown, unable to look up and meet his sisters gaze for fear of disappointing her. "It was not intentional, I was searching for the ink I loaned you to finish one of my papers for our tutoring sessions and when I saw something written in father's hand I became worried."

A hand ran over the back of his neck under the high white collar of his shirt, loosening the small black neck tie that hung, the plain black waist coat and slim cut pants all making him look thinner and smaller than he was as he simply wanted to shrink into the cushions of the sofa he sat on. The thought of losing Vanessa, the idea of her being whisked away and married off caused something within him to fall to it's knees and scream in protest. He hated the idea, the thought of her vanishing from his life.

Though if he was being truthful, their mother had a similar discussion with him a day or so prior, if it could be called as much. He hoped it had been a mere wine infused spiteful threat, but with their having already found an eligible match for Vanessa, he wasn't so sure. "Mother told me she may have a match for me as well," he continued. "I thought it was nothing more than a lush induced threat but I suppose it wasn't."

Their aunt Jacquelyn, a spiteful spinster of a woman and their fathers sister had always hated them and encouraged their father's torture and encouraged their mother, blaming her for not being strict enough. She had brought it to their mother's attention that she was dear friends with the Deluclaire family and they had a young girl who was coming of age and unpromised. The hefty dowry attached to the girls hand was enough to get their family out of the hole their father had sunk them into.

"No arrangements on my behalf have been made yet, but we-" he stopped, expression becoming pained. "What are we going to do, Vanessa?" He whispered, finally looking up again.