De wilde (1994)

Black Rock Manor, a cold and forbidding place, not because of the dark and damp stone that encased the century-old castle, but because of the cold of the hearth that lived within.

Hearths I shared quarters with, quarters which on some nights were far more intimate than I wish to remember.

I married such a heart, out of youthful foolishness and the blindness that young love often displays.

He was more charming then, although I finally learned to see through that mask of bogus charm,

a mask he rarely even bothered to wear for me in later months, not after his sister moved in,