Letters to Romeo.

Chapter 229 - Rebelled Bruises

The words that the guard had spoken it was something that hadn't left Melanie's mind. Her black eyes curiously looked at Simon, who stared back at her.

"Traitor?" questioned Simon, as if he had no clue what Melanie was speaking about.

Her eyebrows furrowed, and her lips pursed for a moment. She then said, "Did you betray someone in the past?"

Even though senior year Simon Wallace was part of the famous five cliques, apart from his handsome and charming personality, Melanie hadn't didn't hear any more details about him. A smile cracked up his lips, and he said, "Why would I bother myself to betray anyone? It is too much trouble to do it."

"Then what did the guard's words near the dungeon mean?" Melanie asked him, looking away from him for a moment to make sure Conner was alright before looking back at the vampire. She doubted that Simon would betray her and Conner, as he was friends with her best friend's boyfriend.

"If you are so curious, maybe I can let you in on it," replied Simon, shrugging his shoulders as if it wasn't a big deal. "After all, most of them are aware of it."

Melanie made herself comfortable by pulling her knees towards her and hugging them close to her chest while she looked at Simon, who was busy playing with the sticks of the fire in front of him.

"He was speaking about the time when Veteris was attacked and converted into a nest for vampires," said Simon, his fingers hovering next to the fire.

"Did you have a hand in it?" asked Melanie, and a soft chuckle escaped from the vampire's lips. As if he found her words to be humorous.

"No. I was a young human, who didn't have anything to do with the attack that happened in this place. Though maybe I was a little responsible for a small number," replied Simon, and his words intrigued her. "More curious? Well let us go back in time then, shall we?"

Melanie asked him curiously, "Do you have the ability to go to the past too?"

"Of course not, silly. I will be telling you the story of the past, as we have nothing better to do right now," though he did have some other ways to kill time in the back of his mind. He then said, "Long long ago, in the Wallace family, a couple lived happily in their pristine mansion, with their heads held too high. They came from one of the founding families of Veteris, holding name and respect. They had four children."

So far, Simon had not mentioned anything about the traitor, but Melanie guessed that it was where the story would lead up to. She quietly continued to listen to him.

"But the youngest Wallace didn't get along with the rest of his siblings," Simon continued with his story. "There were many reasons. One of them was because they didn't like him interacting with the lower people of the society, whom his family thought to be unfit and unworthy of their attention and time. He would sneak out of the manor, spend time with the other children who were poor and when caught, he would be punished..." his voice trailed, as his thoughts drifted to the time when his father was done with punishing him.

More than a century ago, in the dining room of the Wallace family, the butler of the mansion, Augustine, entered with the maids to clear the table. But before he could instruct the maids, his eyes fell on the small figure in the corner of the room. A young Simon sat on the floor, staring at the ground.

"Master Simon?" called the butler, making his way towards the young boy, while he turned to the maids and said, "Clean this up."

The young boy held no expression as if he was dazed. On hearing his name being called, he snapped from his thoughts, and a smile appeared on his face.

But it wasn't the same for the butler, who looked worried on seeing the boy having a handprint marking on one side of his cheek.

"Are you alright, Master Simon?" the butler went to him in concern, while at the same time, he looked over his shoulder to make sure the other members of the Wallace family were not anywhere near.

Mr. and Mrs. Wallace had brought up their children strictly, and they believed that their children should be well mannered and independent. They disliked the idea of the servants of the manor trying to attend to the children after the punishment was handed out to the children.

"I am fine," replied the young boy, who quietly stood up by pressing his hand on the ground.

The butler could only imagine what would happen in the future between this young child and his parents. It was because Simon had trouble staying in the lines drawn for him; instead, he preferred to stand on the line. And this often led to him being scolded or punished more than his other siblings.

The young boy stepped out of the dining room with his head held as high as his parents would. His footsteps and body were stiff as he made his way towards his room. On his way, he met his second elder brother Scott, who snickered and said,

"I don't get you, Simi. You clearly know that you are going to be punished by father."

Simon only stared at his brother, not uttering a word because he knew it wasn't the time to speak.

"What did you do?" asked Scott curiously. "Did you tattle tale and get into trouble yourself that you were locked in the closet?"

Simon's green eyes stared at his brother, and he answered, "I spent time with Roman."

"Tsk tsk," responded his brother, and he shook his head. "You love to break our parents' hearts, don't you? Not to mention, you always have to go and spend your time with the Moltenore's. Roman Moltenore. Or is it that you aren't able to make any friends? Considering what kind of weirdo you are."

Simon's brother didn't stay to make more conversation with him, and he turned his back and started to walk to his own room. The younger boy stared at his brother's back and then said,

"You are the weird one."

He then made his way to his own room, dragging his feet and closing the door shut once he entered the room. As big as his room was and as perfect the walls appeared to be, it didn't make Simon comfortable. Instead, the space seemed smaller and suffocating. The room was furnished with the best things, from the wood to the mattress, the curtains had been drawn to stop one from looking inside.

When he was about to pick up his night dress, his leg touched the side of the bed, and he winced. The boy stopped moving, his eyes shut close, and he felt the immense pain that came from the contact as if his soul was about to leave his body. He folded his pants upwards before unfolding it. His head turned to look at the clock, watching the movement of the hand, and when it was safe, he stepped outside his room.

He had stayed in his room for more than two hours, and he now walked in the quiet, dimly lit corridor. The servants had moved back to their rooms, and the young boy walked like a ghost, his movements stiff like before and slow. Upon reaching in front of one of the worn outdoors, his small hand lightly knocked on wood.

When the room door opened, the butler looked confused, and he asked, "Is there something you need, Master Simon?"

The red-headed boy noted that the butler stood in front of him without a cost, and he was now wearing his white shirt and black trousers. Simon nodded, "Do you have the ointment you were using this week?"

For a moment, the butler was taken aback by the young boy's question, and he nodded, "Do you have a headache? I can go and warm a glass of milk if you aren't able to fall asleep," he offered. He noticed how Simon hadn't changed his clothes, making him wonder what his young master had been doing until now.

Simon shook his head, "Only balm."

"Okay," replied the butler, turning his head to look at the drawer. He opened the drawer and got it for the boy.

When Simon opened the cap and went to apply elsewhere, which wasn't the head, the butler said, "You are supposed to apply it on both the sides of your forehead."

"Not for legs?" asked Simon.

"No, this is for headache," and the butler went back to a drawer and pulled the ointment from it. He handed it to Simon, and placed his hand on the young boy's arm, when he noticed the boy wince.

The butler noticed how the boy's face hardened as if he was in pain. Even though the boy looked perfectly fine, where he didn't utter anything earlier, the butler could already guess on what might have happened. In a polite voice, he asked, "May I help?"

"You will get into trouble," replied Simon, looking straight in the butler's eyes.

"I won't tell anyone. The matter will stay within these walls of the room," the butler gave his word, knowing fully well that it wouldn't be just one person, but both would be punished for not following the rules. "You might need help if you aren't able to reach it."

Simon then gave a quiet nod, not speaking anything. He took off his shirt, and the butler tried hard to not bring out any shocked expression on his face. Earlier the only thing the butler had caught was the handprint on the young boy's face, not realizing the harsher wounds were hidden behind the expensive clothes.

And even though Simon had taken off his clothes so that the butler could apply the ointment, when the older man applied the cream, the red-headed boy continued to keep a calm face, while his heart beated in speed.

"You should avoid making your parents angry, Master Simon. These wounds are too much," frowned the butler, not knowing how Mr. Wallace could hurt his own son in such a painful way.

"Maybe they should start accepting me the way I am," came the words from the boy.

The butler continued applying the ointment on Simon's wound, and it was obvious that the marks had been received by the means of a cane. "Let me know if it hurts, I will use the cotton which might be less painful."

A smile appeared on Simon's lips, "I am fine. You don't have to worry about me." Once the ointment was applied on his wounds, he turned to look at the butler and said, "Thank you."

Years passed and young Simon Wallace grew up, now in his teenage years and one would come to believe that the boy had learned his lesson after experiencing disciplinary measures from his family. But nothing much had changed.

One afternoon, Simon had pulled the butler to come and help him. The butler, who was used to tending to Simon's wounds, asked in an exasperated voice, "Did you get into fight again, Master Simon?"

"The only person who gets into a fight with me is Mr. Patric Wallace," came Simon's words, as if he wasn't related to his father. "Nothing new, and I have gotten used to it. My body doesn't mind it."

"I thought you were going to be careful about not being seen around those people your parents don't want you near. Did that fail?" asked the man, and Simon chuckled.

"When you have siblings who are from hell, it doesn't help much in this case. By the way," drawled Simon while the butler made sure not to touch the wound that had opened up and had spots of blood on it. "Do you know what happened last night?"

"Nothing that I am aware of. Why do you ask, Master Simon?"

Simon shrugged his shoulders, "I saw some people in the manor, who came to meet father and left with him. Heading to the West. Now that I think about it, I always see them taking a stroll. Is there something there?" came his curious question.

"I don't think I know, and have never found anything new," answered the old man, who had aged in time with wrinkles heavily marring his face. "Mrs. Wallace wanted to relay this information that there's a soiree. She wanted to let you know to be present and it is important that you attend it."

A yawn escaped from Simon's lips, and he said, "I heard it is Lady Lauretta's engagement ceremony. Is that all there is to it?" He turned to give a look to the butler if he knew anything. On seeing the man pursed his lips, he raised his eyebrow, "What is it?"

"Mr. Hamburg's daughter seems to have taken a liking towards you and Mr. Hamburg had come to visit Mr. Wallace last evening," replied the butler in a low voice, as he didn't want to get into trouble by informing the young master of the house about his parent's plan.

"They can try all they want. Good luck to the girl and my family," replied Simon, and when they stepped out of the room and into the corridor, Simon's father met them on the other side of the corridor.

"Simon, it is good that you are here. Your mother wants you to select one of the suits that you will be wearing tomorrow. Don't keep her waiting. And don't forget that tomorrow you will be introduced to one of the finest ladies," stated his father, his eyes holding no touch of love or care and his expression business-like. "I want you to be on your best behavior."

"Of course, father," Simon slightly bowed his head, which his father didn't take well as he could sense Simon's rebellious nature.

"Anyways. I have other things to attend to," and saying it, his father walked past him, and the butler quickly followed him until the main door, seeing Mr. Wallace step out of the manor.

Simon had the sudden urge to follow his father, and just when he was about to do it, he was summoned by his mother to his room, who was waiting for him. His mother said, "I made sure to pick the best material, and they have been tailored."

"I like the ones I already have," replied Simon, walking towards the closet, he opened it and found his suits had disappeared from there.

His mother said to him, "I had to send them away and replace them with the new ones. Why wear already used ones, when we can afford better."

"Are you also going to decide how I should comb my hair?" Simon playfully taunted.

"You do not have to be hostile with me, Simon. I am only doing what I think is best for you," replied his mother with a frown and then walked to the bed where the new clothes had been spread. "Personally, I think this green one will go well with your eyes. It is the perfect one. I hear that the Moltenore's are also looking for a bride for their elder son, and it is only right that you and your brothers choose the good ones, before you end up with the leftovers."

"I would call them to be the sensible ones," murmured Simon under his breath talking about the 'leftovers', which his mother caught on to.

"I believe the butler has already mentioned you about tomorrow. Don't mess it up and avoid spending time with the Moltenores. We have an image to hold up. Your father worked very hard to build it, so do not tarnish it, Simon," warned his mother, and Simon continuously nodded his head.

"I will try my best, mother dearest," smiled Simon, and his mother returned his smile. "But if that is what my heart wants, to talk, then I will have to follow it."

The smile on his mother's lips fell, and the expression on her face hardened.

"Don't cross me, Simon," warned his mother and Simon gave her an innocent look.

"What did I do? I think white will suit me better than the green one. The purest color," he said, picking up the white shirt and placing it in front of him. He offered her a bright smile.

But the following evening's party, nothing had gone as expected. Things had gone downhill where the rogue vampires attacked the town of Veteris, painting the town red with blood. While searching for his friends and fighting the creatures, Simon had got bitten by a rogue vampire. The vampire sucked most of his blood, leaving him unconscious for a few seconds.

When Simon woke up the next time, he could hear people's screams, and he stepped out of the building where the soiree had been held.. His head hurt, and so did his body, where he was still a human.