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My own father..he couldn’t..he wouldn’t..
He caused the recent gossip around my family while we were on a trip with Aunt Angelica. The gossip I claimed was untrue. The gossip I shielded off from my little brothers and sisters.
The gossip of which Alexander Hamilton has posted a scandalous paper, a shocking revelation, his own downfall.
I immediately denied it, my father wouldn’t be as stupid to weave his ways into his own end, of course not.
These words have eventually spread around faster than I could stop, luring me to see it for myself. To see what my father has said which caused such an upheaval from the people.
Now, as my hand clutched the very paper that contained my father’s testimony, I tried to skim the brittle pages.
My arms trembled as I moved on, doubt flowing through my veins.
I couldn’t focus. Words I used to find so inspiring, so admirable, words I looked up to with wide eyes and an impressionable heart, no longer spark any of those childish hopes as these terrible, despicable words entered my mind.
My father was pathetic and so scared. So dedicated to his legacy when what he really was following was a dead end. A foolish, ignorant move.
My heart longed for my beautiful mother. My mother, used and manipulated by the man she thought was her one and only, the man that was my own father!
Shock immediately turned into overwhelming fury. My father did this to my mom, to us.
Our life would be ruined. My poor mother’s life would be ruined because of how much she trusted my father, how much she loved and cared for my father.
Clutching the wretched paper between my fists, I could see my knuckles turning a sickly white, draining all the blood out of my hand.
Mr. Hamilton truly did create his own downfall.