Charlotte's Journal

When I was fifteen, I had hope again. The last few years had not been kind to me. I never forgot Amelia, and I never forgot the name Serenity. But I never got to feel the rush of affirmation when someone used it to refer to me. I felt self-conscious about everything. I hated my body, more and more with each passing day. It wasn't me. It wasn't my home. It was a lie I wasn't even allowed to acknowledge. I felt sick every time I undressed to bathe. I felt sick every time I dressed again in the wrong clothing. I always felt sick.

Then I met Lord Eric, my tutor. He was supposed to teach me to use my mana, but he did more than that. He was a kind man. He didn't really understand me, but he understood that I was miserable. It was months of quiet acceptance and gentle encouragement before I asked him to call me Serenity. Before I told him why. I was so afraid. So scared. But I needed someone to know that I wasn't Charles. That I wasn't my father's son, but his daughter. Eric didn't really get it. He was confused, and he asked a lot of questions. But he understood one thing. He understood that he didn't need to completely understand.

He called me Serenity. I didn't have another Amelia, to dream of the future with. To genuinely relate with. But I had someone who saw me. Someone who knew my name. Who taught me to use magic and treated me as myself. Who actually cared about me like a father should a daughter.

Then, he accidentally called me Serenity when my mother was down the hall. She heard him, and it all ended. She searched my things and found my romance novels and my drawings of different dresses. She found my hair clips. She blamed it all on Eric, and she told my father. They accused him of brainwashing me. Of lying to me. Of... other things. None of it was true. All he did was care about me. But their mind was made up. They had decided what they wanted to believe, and who to punish for it.

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Eric was brave. He actually lectured them. He stood up for me. He told them who I was and that they would lose me if they rejected that. Eric was just a tutor. I was just a child who wanted to feel safe, and knew I never would, after what happened to Amelia. Neither of us had the authority to stand up to a man like my father. But he did it anyway. There was no priest this time. They didn't handle it while I was sleeping, or distracted. No. My father wanted me to understand what would happen if I ever used the name Serenity again. This time, he made me attend the execution.

When we got home, all I wanted to do was cry. To hurt. To let the loss wash over me. But my father... my father had his own hurt. I had seen the whip used on the slaves. I never understood it. I knew, but I never really knew. Each hit stung, for me, and for Amelia. Crack. I felt the pain for both of us. Crack. I felt the pain for Eric. Crack. Crack. Crack. My father made me pay for choosing a new name. For choosing anything at all. I still remember his sneering. His quips about letting me have bloody sheets, if I wanted to be a woman so badly.

His message was clear. I was his son. This meant two things. I would never be his daughter. Not in his eyes. And If I were not his son... Eric's noose would fit just as well around my neck.

When I was fifteen, I lost hope.