Disclaimer: Don't own anything.

He traveled alone at night.

He stayed away from society, from civility.

He preferred the cold, harsh nights alone.

He liked his time to think, to be serious.

He would think of his brother, Peter.

So brave, so very handsome.

Who lay dead in the bottom of the River Rush.

He would think of his sister, Susan.

So mature, so very gentle.

Who lay dead in the Shuddering Woods.

He would think of his sister, Lucy.

So sweet, so very lovely.

Who lay dead at the Green Hill.

He grew serious, and withdrawn after his sibling's deaths.

Lucy, a drop of poison upon her tongue.

Susan, an arrow piercing her stomach

Peter, a stab through his heart.

(He longed to hear the beating again.)

He held himself responsible for their deaths.

He felt; No, he knew he could've done something to stop it.

He could've stopped her.

He was a scared a boy.

He is now a scarred man.

He lives with regrets, lives with blood stained hands.

He traveled alone at night.

He stayed away from society, from civility.

He wore a thick, black scarf that covered half of his face.

He did not want people to see him, to recognize him.

He did not want people to see his shame, his scars.

He especially hid the scars.

"Why so serious, Edmund?"

"Your siblings are dead, gone forever."

"You will never be treated with disrespect again. Never bossed around again."

"This is what you wanted Edmund."

She pulled out a long, sharp knife from behind her back.

"Now, let's put a smile on that face."