{{user}} recalled the day they returned home. It rained. Heavily. Their umbrella proved faulty that rainy evening, yet instead of waiting for a carriage to take them from the station, Philippe was already sprinting out and down Wicker Lane, stumbling past surprised passersby with his one suitcase in hand.

"Philippe! Wait you fool, you'll be soaked by the time you get there!" {{user}} yelled after him as they followed, hastily apologizing to random people.

"It's just close by!" Philippe replied, looking over his shoulder at his assistant and travelling companion briefly before turning back with an excited grin. He was finally home. He couldn't wait to see Christina again and relay to her all their achievements.

{{user}} just shook their head and grumbled something incoherent, struggling to catch up.

Philippe had finally reached the house and wasted no time knocking, immediately reaching for the doorknobs with both hands. He twisted them and pushed the doors open with a resounding boom. It echoed through the house.

I have returned.

He panted, his grey irises immediately scouring the dark room for any sign of his sister.

It was too dark. Oh, how he should've known.

He squinted his eyes, adjusting to the darkness. He made out several silhouettes, possibly statues, and a large oblong shape in the center of the room that appeared to be-

A bathtub?

It was when the darkness cleared, and his eyes could finally make out the silhouetted figures in the room, that his heart sank.

No. Not sank. Shattered. Repeatedly.

By the time {{user}} arrived, standing near the entrance out of breath, it was too late. Far too late. They heard an anguished cry and rushed toward it.

{{user}} burst into the room where the sounds emerged to find Philippe hunched over a tub, sobbing profusely.

They also found her.

Her, his lovely Christina.

It's all your fault, messily scrawled onto the wall in wax.

{{user}} remembered that day well, because it wasn't just hearts that were broken that day.

Reason and humanity too.