Lillith's Letters

Every Night I Think Only of You

Twelve years have passed and the boy had grown into a young man of seventeen. There was no doubt that the boy resembled his father. They had the same raven-colored hair and dark eyes. The boy was lean and stood as tall as his father. He too had developed a kind heart and mind. The boy would always go out of his way to help someone. The boy may have been the splitting image of a young Gabriel, but in mind he was ultimately like his mother, Lillith. Gabriel feared that the townspeople would take advantage of his son’s overly charitable behavior, but these were people that could be trusted. Lillith trusted these people.

When he was but a boy, Key learned that his father was a greatly broken man. Every night he would hear the cries and broken whimpers from his father’s study. Key would crack the door open slightly, peering into the room only to find his father in the same spot. His father would slump against the wall, and over him was a large painted portrait of the woman he learned to be his mother, Lillith. Her dark hair curled over her shoulders tenderly, her light brown eyes and smile were kind, and she wore flowers in her hair and stitched into her clothing. He would then walk into the room silently and softly coax his father into standing and getting into bed. He would take his father’s arm and curl it across his shoulders and sometimes just drag his father to his room.

At first, Key didn’t think so fondly of his mother, no matter how kind the portrait made her seem. To put it simply, he hated her. He hated her for leaving, leaving his father all alone. But Key was always here. He was always here to look after him, and that didn’t seem to be enough. Key was there and Lillith wasn’t. But as he grew, Key decided to put his mother out of his mind and tend to his father. His father was his entire world after all.

Although Key decided it would benefit to no longer think about the fate of his mother, he would still think of her. He would imagine what life would be like with her in it. His father wouldn’t cry at night. He wouldn’t shut himself in their home all day. His father would smile more often. Key smiled to himself at the thought, but the smile dropped to a frown almost instantly. It had been twelve years. Twelve years! Where on earth could she have gone? It was then and there that Key decided to never think of her again. Never.

Key kept true to the promise he made to himself. Not once had he thought of his mother. Not once. Even though he had to see her face every night when he went to collect his father from the study, he merely gave it no mind.

But all of that would change the day he found a letter in the mailbox.