Book 3: Don't Break Tradition

Coit

The woods feel like home as much as the house. I’ve spent equally as much of my childhood out there climbing trees and exploring nature to my heart’s content. Camping out here had been a regular event when Emory and I were kids. Our father would stay up late with us and teach us about the stars.

It’s the quiet memories that only my sister and I share now that remind me that Bernard hadn’t been a purely evil entity. Those moments where he was a good father to us made his betrayal even more painful to swallow. If he had only been a monster, it would have been easier to merely forget about him. As much as I despise the person he became, I still hold some affection for the father he was sometimes in the past.

Both versions of the man have shaped me into who I am no matter how I might try to deny it.

I try not to think about my father. Looking back rarely serves any purpose except to make me feel melancholy. I want to focus on the present and