My side of the Story

The paper trembled in my fingers as I read and reread the lines printed in dark ink that spidered on the parchment. "We are sorry to inform you that Mr. Lucas Gabriel was killed on the 14th day of November in the year of 1881 due to an accident involving a carriage gone out of control. We pass along our condolences to his family and friends."
I dropped the letter to the couch and made my way into the kitchen where Mikalea sat by the window that looked over the rose garden, sipping daintily on a cup of warm tea. The thought of telling her that her beloved of only a few weeks had died tore my heart to shreds. I crossed the room and placed a hand on her shoulder, "Mikalea? Dear sister, we have to talk." She looked up at my through long eyelashes, her cerulean blue eyes still retaing an innocence that I have longed for since our childhood. "What is it Rosalind?" she inquired as I took my place on the window seat beside her. I took her hands in mine, her small, pale fingers a stark contrast to my long, bony ones. "Lucas...he died today" I whispered, my eyes glued to a lose thread on the fabric of my skirt. The sharp intake of breath she took sounded painful. Her warm hands grew perceptably colder and her thin fingers began to shake, "What?" she whispered, almost hissed. I risked a glance at her and was almost knocked breathless by the look of horrified grief on her childish face. Her left hand fluttered to her throat, "How?" she breathed.
I explained that he had been in a carriage accident on his way home from a buisness trip. Here in London, these accidents had become quite frequent and was becoming a bit of a concern to the public. She sat there for a long moment, silent tears welling up and spilling over onto her porcelain cheeks. I pulled her into my arms and stroked her silky curls, grief pulling at my heart with every coarse, wretched sob that broke out of her throat.
"Mikalea," I cooed, straighting her by the shoulders and wiping her tears away, "perhaps you should go lie down for a while, okay? A little rest will do you good." She only responded by tearing away from me and stumbling up the stairs to her bedroom. I shook my head, worry and pity nagging at me as I made my way back to the sitting room and sagged into a chair by the fireplace, a weary exhaustion setting into my bones at the thought of having to tend to my baby sister.

One Week Later....

"Rolsalind? Rosalind, wake up!" I heard above me, the warm tenor voice alien but strangely familiar