“It wasn’t always mine…”
Klaus sighed and closed the book. He had gotten a stack of them from the bookstore on a whim and desire to lock himself away from all that thought that knocking on his door would be the way to get him over the fact that Rebekah had left but Marcel hadn’t followed her. He would have told her that he told her so, but it didn’t matter.
He regretted changing the man. Not saving the boy, but changing him.
He was a man of many regrets compounding on his failures and his own inability to keep his sister happy and his brother at peace with himself and what he became. He threw the book and sat back. Every book he read reminded him of them.