My Suicidal Romance

*Frank's POV*

I awoke and opened the curtains. Ugh, another rainy, grey, English day. I looked through the window and out and up on the hill, there stood the Way Manor a dark, gloomy, gothic place that looked as though it had been through a hurricane. With it's smashed windows and plants growing out of the wooden panes. The whole east wing was derelict.

I so terribly wanted to go and snoop around up there, and knowing me, I would. Just as soon as I could muster up the courage. I am extremely inquisitive. But that house is so scary.

Growing up in Bramley (in the Surrey hills, not too far from London) you would always hear strange rumours about the place. About Elena, Donald and Donna way, and their two sons Gerard and Michael. Donna and Donald were socialites. Very wealthy and happy, kind people.

They would often throw charity events. Their son Michael was a very well educated young boy who enjoyed riding and hunting. Donna and Donald would often throw parties and invite all the respectable, well - off young boys and girls for Michael to socialise with.

Their other son, Gerard, was the black sheep of the family. It almost seemed as his parents were embarrassed of him and he was rarely ever seen out or generally acknowledged by his parents.

Of course, I didn't know much of them other than they lived in the big manor on the hill, surrounded by super-tall iron gates.

I wasn't poor by any means. We lived in a cosy, typical country cottage. Big enough for me, my parents, and my older sister. Freya.

Rumours about their mysterious son who could only find happiness when doing art or with his grandma, Elena, and his parents' wealth was all anyone really knew. That was, of course, until the terrible news. It came one miserable morning, quite like today in fact. Rain spattering at the windows, thunder and black clouds in the sky.

The news was all over the town. Donald And Donna had been killed. They were out hunting and shot in the chests. They both fell off their horses and died. No one ever caught the assassin or whoever did it. Michael took the news better than expected. Distraught all the same, but he didn't break down.
His brother also was not terribly upset either! In fact Gerard didn't even attend the funeral! Not surprising though.. If my parents treated me like I didn't exist and tried to hide me from my everyone. I probably wouldn't feel to warm towards them either. Although I fear the worst.

You see, I'm different. It's bad. I know it's terrible but I can't try to make myself change. You see, the issue is, I am attracted to men. I have tried to have relationships with women it the past, but I just never felt it. And if anyone in my family found out - I'd probably be disowned like the poor Way boy Gerard.

Anyway, apparently Michael kept his social life the same: loads of parties, charity events, and trips to London. Their Grandmother, Elena was getting old, and eventually she passed. Michael was rather happy in fact, apparently anyway. However Gerard took it so terribly, rumour has it that he tried to end his own life multiple times, he was diagnosed mentally unstable and never left the Manor. Doctors had informed Michael that Gerard really wasn't fit to leave the house so instead he locked himself away, in the only part of the house still used - the east wing had gone to wreckage. And apparently he was a wonderful - yet disturbing artist. Often painting dark and bloody scenes. He only left the manor to go to Elena's funeral. And word has it from those who went, that he lay on the ground and cried his little heart out the whole time. And apparently he went mental when they tried to bury her.

Her grave is visible from my window. It's up in the hill, slightly past the mansion. Sometimes at night I see a dark figure crying on her grave. Black clad, always. And carrying red roses. The figure would lay there in the dark. And by what I could see by the moonlight, it would take a shiny, metal blade and cut himself.
It was saddening to watch. As the blood poured from his arm.
Usually a dark haired, also black-clad girl who wore flowers in her hair. Almost as a flower crown, would come and help him up. He would cry on her shoulder for a bit. Then they would disappear.
This probably happened twice a week.

Notes

Hey guys! This is my first fic ever! Was chapter one okay? I'll try to update as often as possible! Please tell me what you think! I HIGHLY reccomend that you google Bramley, Surrey, England so you can see what the hills look like. I live about four miles away and it seems like such a perfect setting for a story like this. Also If you want to see more how I visualise the town: google Totnes, Devon, UK. My grandparents live there and it's so fitting with this story. As you can probably tell, this is a historical fic set in vaguely edwardian times. And questions I'll be happy to answer! I really hope people actually read this haha! Anyway if you are them please comment. Comments make me write faster!

XoxoF