Archive for March, 2012

4fe 54 – Connect

The phone rang one, two, three rings before the woman picked it up. She was someone well known, someone whose voice was familiar to everyone, and everyone’s voices were familiar to her, even though she had never seen any of these people’s faces.

 

-Operator.

-Hi! I’d like to make a call to James Wilkes, at the Cavendish house in London…

 

Ah, this girl again. How often had it been now, every day? Surely this girl was desperate. The woman sighed inside her mind before telling her what she had told her all week.

 

-I’m sorry, miss, but as I’ve told you many times I doubt a noble will let you talk to them. I can get you through, but I can assure you, you’ll be back to talking to me in no time.

-Then let me talk to Rosaria Brooks. She works there.

-Alright, alright… I’ll connect you, but I can’t guarantee anything.

-Thank you.

 

She clicked a few buttons on the console in front of her with expert fingers. Part of her loved the sounds and feeling the machine would do, part of her did it without even looking, by habit, automatically. Other than these noises, the place she was at was dark and silent. She was alone here.

The call connected and she could see, thanks for a few lights on the machine, that it was ringing on the other side. She wondered if they’d pick up or even accept to talk to her this time. She wondered what this girl’s story was, who James and Rosaria were, but she would probably never know. Her phone ringed again and, as she was used to, waited three rings to make sure the person hadn’t called by mistake, before picking it up.

 

-Operator.

-Good evening, deary! How are you tonight?

-Mr. Caldwell, I told you many times, this is a service.

-Argh, no, no, no! Don’t call me mister Caldwell, I told you! Jake, Jake!! I’ll rip out your vocal cords if you keep this on!

-Sir, I do hope you are aware of talking to a phone right now?

 

She rubbed her forehead in an attempt to ease her now growing headache. What was up with this man, calling her every week for small talk? He had this peculiar voice, flowing as he talked, and she often found herself picturing her words as if they were some kind of river. She wondered if he lived on his own, if he was lonely. Lights flashed on the console.

 

-Madam, I will forgive you this time, but please do let me take you for some tea!

-I’m sorry to interrupt, sir, but there is another call. Can you hang on for a moment?

-Oh, sure thing, dear, I’ll be right here!

 

Not as if you really had anything better to do, right? She thought with a sigh, before picking up the other call. It was the Evans girl from before.

 

-Operator.

-Is there anything I can do to get through…? Please, I really need to talk to them!

-I’m sorry miss, but unless you write a letter or get there yourself, if they keep on refusing your phone calls, I’m pretty sure they are the only other options.

-Getting there myself…

-May I help you with anything else?

-No, thank you!

-Have a nice evening, thank you for calling.

 

She hung up and checked the lights again. All of them were turned off, meaning there was no call pending. Maybe that man had given up after all. She sat back in her chair and closed her eyes for a moment, enjoying her small break and relaxing. It was a pretty rare occurrence that there wouldn’t be a single call for a single minute, but then again, she guessed, it was late and the rich were probably eating supper as of now, while the poor were thinking about heading to sleep. These were all patterns she could watch over, by looking who would make phone calls and when. People were interesting to observe, and their routines were entertaining. She checked her watch and sat up. Jake would be calling back any second now… and there we go.

 

-Operator.

-How are you, my lovely, that other business done with, yet?

-Sir, you can’t keep on doing this…

-Did that girl from out of town called again?

-Well… yes.

 

She hit her forehead with her fist. She wasn’t supposed to tell him that! She sighed a bit and rubbed her neck, frowning the way a kid would if he’s pouting. She didn’t know who that man was, but somehow he would always manage to make her say things she shouldn’t. She really wished she wouldn’t get in trouble for this… At least he didn’t seem to work for the police.

 

-Where did you say she was calling again? Maybe I should check it out… You know, tell them a lovely lady is trying to get in touch with them.

-Really? Why would you waste your time putting your nose in a stranger’s business?

-Oh, just out of curiosity, you know.

-Are all artists that way, or is it just you?

 

There was a strange laugh on the other end of the line and she couldn’t help but smile in the darkness. She wasn’t certain why, but something inside of her told her that answering his questions was the right thing to do. Something told her that helping him out, and the girl at the same time, wasn’t such a bad thing. Sure he was weird, but he didn’t really hit her as some kind of paedophile or anything. She was so used to his voice now…

Besides, if she did tell him where to check, she’d be able to tell that girl that someone would help her out. Some kind of excitement coursed through her fingers, as if she was taking part of some kind of great mystery, just like the ones in the novels she loved to read so much. Going against the rules of her employment seemed like such a little offence compared to it… Surely if it worked out fine, nobody would get in trouble.

The woman didn’t mean any harm, though some kind of naivety kept her from thinking too much about the huge consequences her acts might have. Here in London, James Wilkes wasn’t a known name; for all she knew, he might have been a kid living on the streets. She knew nothing about him, had never heard his voice before, and there was no way for her to predict what would happen to him at all.

 

-Lost in thought, are you?

-Oh, yes, sorry. She is trying to contact a certain James at the Cavendish house.

-And she’s going through the long distance calls, huh?

-Yes. Another operator usually sends her my way.

-James, at the Cavendish house… I think I know where that is.

-She also mentioned a new name today, Rosaria, was it?… Maybe it’s some family to her, who knows. Or friends. They all have different last names, after all.

-Mhmm, yes, I’ll check it out, it sounds exciting!

-Oh, and please do keep quiet about this. I’m sure you know, but I’m not supposed to tell you any of this.

-Yes, yes, don’t worry deary, I’ve heard nothing from no one! I will just be passing by and invite myself over or something.

-Oh, hang on, there’s a call.

-Wait, wait, just one last thing!

-Make it quick.

-Operator, would you care to tell me your name?

-Of course not. Good night, Jake.

-Aww, bummer.

 

She was still smiling as she hung up. She felt good, the way you feel good when you help out an old woman cross the road. Accomplished, in a way. Unless Jake told her about the results, there was certainly no way she would know the results of her actions. Maybe she’d get fired. Maybe she’d become some sort of hero. The rest of the story was open to her dreams. She picked the next call, answering the same boring word as she always did.

Little did she know, from now on the young girl who called every day would not call back. She had planted a seed in her head, a seed that would grow a dangerous idea and, as stubborn as she was, nobody could stop her now.

4fe 53 – Trust

A flicker of light bothered her sleep and, with a grumble, she slowly opened her eyes and tried to make out where she was. She was comfortably laying in her bed, someone in her back and, in her blurry confusion, wondered for a moment if it wasn’t Rosa. She snuggled to them and closed her eyes again, feeling too good to want to get up. A loud grumble tickled her ears and she realized the arms holding her were more rough than the ones she was used to but, rather than feel shocked and try to get away, she found herself smiling warmly and wanting to stay there all day. She couldn’t help but love this warmth.

He moved a little and sighed in her neck, slowly taking the realization of where he was, she guessed. She surprised herself to wonder where he was used to sleep usually, and, she realized, maybe she didn’t know much about him either.

 

-You really sleep with this thing?

 

She tried to move away to see what he was looking at, but he obviously thought otherwise, holding her tight enough that she would have a hard time escaping. Not really feeling like it anyway, she didn’t struggle long and heard him snicker.

 

-I meant that awful doll.

-But you’re the one who gave it to me…

-Well, yeah, but…

 

There was an awkward silent for a moment and she pictured him blushing and probably swearing in his mind.

 

-What happened to your fingers?

-Huh?

-Well, you’re wearing bandages and all… Did you cut yourself?

-Oh… No, that’s not it…

 

Another pause, and she could feel him waiting for some sort of answer without really wanting to push further and ask it himself. She gripped his sleeve a bit.

 

-Would you… Would you think I was lying if I told you I don’t come from here?

-I know that already, you just suddenly appeared a few years ago. You come from another village, right?

-No, I don’t.

 

She clung to him more tightly, suddenly glad she couldn’t see his face right now, yet thankful to still be held.

 

-I come from another world. I’ve never seen any other town than this one here.

 

He didn’t react, listening closely to what she had to say. He didn’t seem to judge, nor did he seem to believe she was lying; her only guess was that he waited to hear the whole of her story before he could make up his own opinion. It was a wild guess because, for some reason, she realized she had a much harder time reading into Greg than she had in anyone else. She frowned, concentrated in trying to connect to him, but still, no matter how much she tried, all she could find was a wall.

 

-Go on.

-R-right… Well, you see… Where I come from, people don’t have these kind of ears and tails. Our ears are very small, and the same colour as our skin. When I first came here, I actually had a hard time moving them at all, and often got my tail injured from dragging it on the ground.

 

She wasn’t really sure why, but for some reason she started telling him everything. She started telling him about her world, about how it would work out. She tried to explain to him how magic worked out, and how emotions had a much bigger impact over there than they had here. She found out how hard it is to explain a concept to someone who has never heard of anything like it and, trying to grasp examples, she found herself feeling ridiculous and silly. He didn’t say a single word, though, brushing her arm’s skin with his big, rough fingers as she went on and on.

She went on about how, over there, they had more advanced things, things such as cars and, trying to explain them to him the same way she had explained them to Rosa years before, she was surprised to be interrupted and learn that they did exist here as well. She tried to tell him that the other girl had told him otherwise, to which he had responded that she had probably never seen one. They were owned only by the richest. That explanation made since and, considering that the girl didn’t even know how to read, she wasn’t surprised that she had never even heard of it.

She told him about how for as long as she could remember, she would always hang out with Mage. No matter how much she tried to remember how they had met, she couldn’t; as if they had been introduced to each other as babies. She guessed her family must have had really close ties to the royal family somehow, considering that they would always hang out even though they had a difference in status. She told him about silly things, such as how she enjoyed wearing the dresses, how people would always tell her how natural she looked in them, and how she loved messing up with the guards. He seemed to be paying close attention to her tale, more than she had ever expected anyone to give.

Her parents would always allow her to run off to see her friend and nobody in the castle had ever seemed to mind her. But as soon as it was dark outside, she would go back home; these were the rules. Her mother would always tell her that if she was at the castle during the night, a beast would come and swoop her up. Whenever she asked more details, however, she was always told a description of the beast, how it had long and sharp teeth, deep murderous purple eyes with the slightest hint of red and a skin darker than black.

The monster had no name, and had apparently attacked her when she was a mere child the day she had stepped into its lair one time, back when she was still allowed to sleep over at her friend’s. Every night, he would roam into the basements searching for her, wanting a taste of her blood once more… at least she was always told. She wasn’t sure how much of this was made up, but it had always invoked a great fear in her and she had never really asked any more than this. She laughed a bit, telling him how it was usually the princess who was kidnapped by the dragon in fairy tales.

 

-That’s a pretty scary story to tell a kid…

-My parents only wanted to protect me.

-If that’s a made up story, then they have one hell of an imagination. Would have been much easier to just tell you some more traditional black mailing shit. Something like no dessert for a week. That’s how it works here, at least.

-Well… I don’t know. You have a point, I guess, but I was too young to remember much details.

-Besides, having to explain that excuse just seems like such a pain. You were bound to get curious and ask questions.

 

She had never really thought about it this way, but now that he pointed it out, it did seem curious. She tried to ponder over it for a moment.

 

-Oh, and one more thing. I don’t know much about this Mage person, and pardon me for this, but…

 

A big shiver ran down her spine and it took her a moment to realize he had grabbed her ear. She was about to complain, but when she turned enough to see his face she noticed how serious his eyes were.

 

-These, are the ears of a princess.

-Geez! Would everyone stop saying that?

 

She pushed his hand and she noticed him blush and look away a bit. He sat up, with his back against the wall, one arm on his knee and it didn’t take long for him to be ready to listen again. She, too, replaced herself to face him, one leg neatly folded over the other.

 

-I’m no princess, there must have been some kind of bug in your system when I got here. This world is weird anyway, I don’t understand it completely yet.

-T-tell me… Why are you here? I mean, why aren’t you in your own world…?

-That’s because… It died. Something ate it up.

 

She started telling him the tale of her world’s end, just as she had lived it for a second time when she had reread her diary days earlier. She was so lost in her own words and nostalgia that she didn’t see it coming when he grabbed her hand, just as she was getting to the part where she had met Rosa. She felt panic course through her veins and tried to pull it away quickly to hide it, but he was holding it firmly, looking calm.

 

-Before you go think something stupid, know that I don’t really think you’re lying. You’re always hiding things and it’s suspicious, and there are way too many simple things that seem unknown to you. Your story makes sense. But it’s just… I’ll need time to fully take it in.

 

There was something else in his eyes, some weird expression she couldn’t make out, some deepness to them… Oh, why was he so hard to read? She felt her own ears flat out on her head, as if to show her annoyance. Was he able to read her…?

 

-I come from a family that was once well known and had a lot of money.

 

It was her turn to raise her ears and listen in to his story. She hadn’t really expected him to start talking, but now she was curious.

 

-My parents are very good at working with small mechanisms, and we had our own clock shop. If you had come here ten years ago, you would read the time on a Sinclair watch. I, too, really enjoyed working with clockworks and every day seemed to be so easy…

-I didn’t know you knew these things.

-But then, one day, a man came to town. He started selling lies to everybody, sullied our family’s name. My father had been cheating on my mother with another woman, and before we even knew it, his story was in the newspaper all over town. Less and less people came by, and even those who did had a scornful look on their face.

 

He took a break, frowning as he recalled the events.

 

-That bastard, too, was a clockmaker and when our reputation was filled with doubt, he moved in with his wife and their son and made their own shop. He stole all of our clients and, in the middle of that whole commotion, my father left, leaving my mother, my three sisters and I to fend for ourselves.

 

He put his hand on his face, hiding a bitter smile.

 

-I was already hanging out a lot on the streets, and when this came to the ears of the brats, they decided that it was a good idea to outsmart me. I showed the bastards that I was still in charge, but that Nichols just pays them to be on his side. Nobody gives a shit anyway, that kid’s handing out stolen money. I just wish there was something I could do about it…

 

He stayed like this a moment longer and, as if remembering what he had in mind earlier, grabbed her wrist once again. The same feeling of danger swept over her and she tried to break free, but he wouldn’t let her.

 

-Now we’re even.

-W-what…?

-But there’s one more thing you’ve been hiding and that I’d like to know.

 

Without waiting for a reaction he pulled on one of the bandages, revealing her blackened fingers. She tried to struggle and go away, feeling desperate.

 

-Charlotte, what happened to your fingers?

4fe 52 – Darkness

Greg hadn’t been able to talk to Charlotte in so long, he felt like she was either trying to avoid him, or he really was cursed with the worse of luck. It surely wasn’t because he hadn’t tried; for a whole week, he had come by every single day. He would usually be told that they were busy, and sometimes the girl would be nowhere in sight. She seemed to be getting up late and going to bed abnormally early, meaning the boy had to guess which time she’d be there at all; and since his pride didn’t allow him to check on the place more than once a day, it had turned into a stupidly annoying game.

Last time he had seen her, they had witnessed Rosa getting out of town with that stupid rich brat. At first part of him had been happy; good riddance! But of course, he should have expected that to affect Charlotte, especially after he had found out that she had a crush on her. He ruffled his own hair in frustration, glaring at the building as usual, locked into a silent argument. This stupid, stupid building…

One day the woman had been quite busy and, instead of sending him away like he was used to, she had grabbed his arm and pulled him to the kitchen, forcing him to wash his arms, wear an apron, and had him help her out. He had complained a lot, obviously, complaining mainly about his reputation, but the woman had neatly stopped all of them with a single sentence; Must I remind you that you’re trying to marry my daughter, boy?

He had obviously known better than to reply to that and he was now there nearly every evening to help out, mainly with cleaning up and lifting heavy things. But no apron, he had demanded. That pink frilly thing was hardly something he wanted to see on himself. No, no, he didn’t care if it was Charlotte’s, he wasn’t going to wear such a girly thing! It had amused the woman and some of her constant worry had been lifted off her face and although he would never admit it, it was a relief. She had, however, kept him so busy that he hadn’t had any more chance at trying to catch the girl, despite being around her all day.

Every time he saw her, she seemed cold and distant, every single one of her expressions fake, learned by heart, as if she did everything by habit. He hadn’t seen her eat anything but soup, and her fingers were covered with bandages. He had even caught her refusing to bring bread to the front unless it was in some kind of plate, and even then she hadn’t placed it; as if she refused to touch any kind of food with her hands. Even someone in refusal to care for anyone like Greg couldn’t help but point out how weird she was acting. Martha was close by, making the final touches on a cake she had worked on during the day, while he was washing the dishes and he couldn’t help his worry and curiosity.

 

-What happened to Charlotte’s fingers? Did she cut them while making food or something?

 

The woman flinched and, if he hadn’t already been certain something was wrong, now he wouldn’t have had any choice but be convinced. She seemed thoughtful and frowned as if she, too, was trying to pierce this mystery.

 

-I’d like to know. She hasn’t told me either.

-What, seriously? Haven’t you, I don’t know, seen them?

-No. She keeps on washing them off though.

 

Definitely suspicious. Somehow he had a hard time believing that she wouldn’t know a thing, but he didn’t want to make it too obvious that he didn’t trust her too much. Ah, why was this stupid situation so damn complicated? He felt a headache coming up. Just great. He dropped the plate he had been washing on the counter and stopped for a moment.

 

-Where is she now?

-Sleeping, I’m guessing. Why?

-Don’t you think that’s weird? She’s always up late and all of a sudden she goes to bed at seven. That’s a bad sign right there, she’s planning something.

 

He dropped everything, grabbed a towel to get rid of the water on his hands and, spotting the stairs he had seen her go up so many times, grumbled a few angry words, threw the towel on his shoulder and started going up without any question.

 

-Where do you think you’re going, young man?

-I’m going to bring her down because I’m fucking sick of all this shit.

-Watch your words! This isn’t your home!

-I don’t care!

 

He could hear her bark some more angry words but he was already running up, a sudden fear that she might try to stop him, hiding behind the wall once he was up, on his guards. He was surprised to see that she didn’t and, for a moment, he wondered what was going on. He glanced down the stairs.

 

-Woman…?

-Her room’s the first on the left. Don’t break anything or I’ll make you pay double.

 

Crap, was she encouraging him? He stared at where he could see her feet and sure enough, she was staying there. She suddenly moved towards him and he didn’t need to watch a second more to see if she’d change her mind to run off to the room she had informed him was Charlotte’s. He stopped in front of it, suddenly feeling awkward and unsure just what the hell he was doing. Should he knock, should he try to enter, should he go back down…? None of these answers seemed to be right and so he stood there like a complete idiot thinking and thinking about it; and thinking hurt his head and made him lose patience.

 

-Are you in there, stupid? Don’t you think it’s time to stop this crappy act, get out and apologize?

-…Greg? What are you doing in front of my room?

-Get the fuck out here.

-Where to?

-I don’t care, open the fucking door!

 

He crossed his arms, ear twitching, waiting. No sound. At this point he didn’t even care any more if the reason she wasn’t opening it was because she was naked; if that was the case than, shit, so be it, he’d look away and apologize! He grabbed the knob and turned it fiercely, pushing the door before it got caught it something. Not really thinking about just why it might block, he tackled it and heard wood crack. He was about to give it a new slam when her voice stopped him.

 

-Calm down, you’re going to break everything!

-I don’t care, let me in!

-Fine, fine, just… wait a minute.

-I’ll wait five seconds.

-Fine. You’re so impatient.

 

He sighed and growled as he waited, but at least he could hear her move things around. The door closed in his face and for a moment he thought she was messing with him and was about to knock when it opened again. She stood in the half opened door, in her night clothes, glaring at him, hair messy and dark rings under her eyes, blocking access to the room.

 

-What do you want?

-These are so not the eyes of someone who’s sleeping all day.

 

He pushed the door open, frowning and, seeing as she was about to close it again, grabbed her arm, pushed her in the room roughly and closed the door with his foot.

 

-What are you doing?

-What’s your problem?!

 

She struggled in his arms for a moment as the both of them glared at each other like hissing snakes in the dark room. He couldn’t see much of anything, couldn’t see if there was something on the floor, where the bed was, if there was something on it, nor what was blocking the door earlier; the only reason why he wasn’t blinded to begin with was because some light was finding its way in through the curtains, barely enough so he would be able to see her angry face. He was obviously stronger than she was and, seeing as she was about to hit him, he had grabbed her other wrist, leaving her with only her feet left as weapon; before he could see it coming, a flash of pain coursed through his leg as she had hit him hard right in the middle of it.

 

-That hurts, fuck!

-Let me go, jerk!

-What’s with you hitting me every time you see me? Geez…

-What’s with you hitting Rosa every time you see her?

 

She was obviously proud of her come back right there, a smug smirk painted on her face, but he still had the upper hand; he was still holding her. For some reason he felt like any second now she’d spit at him and, his level of annoyance growing, he finally pulled her against him, not thinking too much about it, holding her close, as she stopped fighting, tense with confusion.

 

-What are you doing now?

-Shut up, will you?

 

He pulled her closer and couldn’t help but realize his arms were shaking. Shit, what now? What was this stupid overwhelming fear that overcame him? He hadn’t felt anything like that before. He didn’t want to let her go. Something, something inside of him told him that if he did, she’d go away and he’d lose her forever. He hid his face into her neck, embarrassed. He was supposed to be the strong one, no?

After a moment he felt her relax into his tight embrace and a hand lift itself up to his head, as if it was going to rest on it, touch him, but stopped, clenched into a fist and pulled on his shirt instead, as she hid her face into his chest and started shaking too. What was up with that? He could feel his heart still beat fast, but at least he had calmed down a bit now.

 

-You don’t understand.

 

Her voice was unsteady, and just hearing them Greg could feel his throat tighten, as if he could feel the young woman’s pain as his own. He looked away.

 

-Then explain to me.

-I can’t.

-Why not?

-You wouldn’t understand.

 

He glared at the emptiness he was staring at, his annoyance slowly growing back.

 

-Why not? I might not be the smartest, but I’m not completely stupid!

-Then you wouldn’t believe me!

-You don’t know that!

 

He pushed her away, still holding on to her, and pulled her chin so that her sad eyes would look straight into his. He brushed her cheek as gently as he was capable of, pushing away her tears, looking deep into her maroon eyes.

 

-Please tell me what’s going on, Charlotte.

-You don’t know anything about me. Why would you believe anything I have to say?

 

She looked so frail, so weak and vulnerable like this. He almost felt like he was holding a delicate flower. He didn’t know what that feeling was in his chest, but it was warm, too warm for him to hold it, and it almost hurt. Without thinking, he pulled her closer to him, his hand in her hair, and kissed her lips gently.

4fe 51 – Detail

-Good morning, James!

-Good morning, Alex…

 

The gentleman was sitting at the tip of the big table in a dark blue bath robe, cup of tea in his hand, newspaper in the other, smiling casually at Life who, in all of his sleepiness, hadn’t really seemed to question just why he was there. He was slowly walking by and suddenly stopped in his tracks, as if finally realizing.

 

-Wait, Alexander?!

 

The young man gave him wide eyes full of shock and confusion, which only made him laugh. Oh, that expression on his face was completely priceless.

 

-W-what are you doing here?

-I live here, what else!

-What’s that supposed to mean?

-Dear boy, have you stopped for a single moment to look at your sister’s full name now?…

-Laurel Cavendish… Ah!

 

His realization only made him even more wide-eyed.

 

-You’re married to my sister?!

-Don’t make it sound as if it was new! It’s been eight years, boy!

 

The gentleman was still laughing in amusement, while the boy in question had to sit down to prevent the shock to knock down his legs. So many things were buzzing in his mind, so many things he didn’t want to know. He tried to push them away before they even formed, but he couldn’t help and think, not without shudders of horror; this is the man who’s been sleeping with my sister?

 

-I… I didn’t know it was you! You never said so!

-Of course not! It’s more funny this way. Besides, mentioning my status for the Queen had much more impact.

-Why didn’t I recognize you?

-You were eleven back then, and I doubt weddings were the most exciting thing for a boy that age.

-Wait, does this have anything to do with how you’re obsessed with my brother?

-Why is everyone saying that! I’m not obsessed! But yes, I got most of my information from your sister.

 

Life simply lifted an eyebrow at the gentleman, not convinced. Part of him couldn’t help but think that he had won this round when, a long time ago, he had begged Alexander to bring him with him, away from his father’s grasp and everything he hated so much. The man in front of him simply smiled, obviously still entertained, before going back to his previous occupations of reading the morning’s newspaper.

 

-Do you believe everything that’s written in there?

-Most of it, yes. Sometimes you can tell they make things to sound more incredible than they really are, though.

-Well, you shouldn’t. It’s nothing but a bunch of lies.

 

It was Alexander’s turn to lift an eyebrow, curious, as he took a sip from his cup. Life looked around, making sure nobody was anywhere near, listening to their conversation, suddenly unsure if he should be saying anything at all.

 

-Do tell. What makes you say that?

-You know, four years ago…

 

That obviously seemed to have caught his attention and he placed himself a little forward as if he, too, desired some of this privacy.

 

-Go on?

-Well, I’ve seen my brother’s corpse… I was actually the one to stumble upon it. And there was no test tube lying beside him.

 

The gentleman, more interested than he had ever been in what the boy had to say, was eagerly awaiting the rest of it, ears raised, a shiver of excitement running down his spine. This simple detail meant that this whole time, he had been running on a false lead. But something inside of him told him to wait, hang on, verify this information first, maybe he’s the one who’s lying.

 

-Are you sure about this?…

-I don’t know what father told the people who wrote the article. But he told me to not say anything, and let him deal with this.

 

Life sighed and rubbed his forehead; definitely something that was heavy on his mind, something he hadn’t really been allowed to tell anyone. But there was still no proof he wasn’t just making all of this up. A sly smile painted itself on Alexander’s face, giving him the feels of a fox or snake.

 

-How about you give me some details now, instead of staying all mysterious about this?

-W-well… uh… what?

-How about you start by telling me how you stumbled upon him?

 

The boy looked around him, warily, unsure of himself.

 

-The maid and butler are busy and your sister never wakes up until later.

 

Life nodded, obviously still feeling nervous about all of it. Apparently this was simply a day like any other, apart from the fact that his brother had been missing for a few days, which he did pretty often, so it wasn’t all that suspicious. Rosa, too, was missing and since the boy had wanted to spend some time with her, he had gone looking around the mansion.

He hadn’t found what he was looking for, no; instead what he had stumbled over was his brother’s corpse, still laying around in his bed, as if he had died in his sleep. There was nothing spectacular or dramatic about his death, but maybe had his father wanted to get the spotlights on him; all Life knew was that the next day nobody knew anymore just what had happened. There had been a lot of fuzzy chaos in the mansion, tons of suspicious men coming in and out, and he hadn’t been allowed anywhere near what his father liked to call the crime scene.

 

-That’s it…? He died in his sleep?

-I don’t remember much, but I did find him in his own bed…

-Wasn’t there anything weird about it at all? That’s a lot of cover up story for such a normal death, wouldn’t you say?

-Well… there was something weird about him when I found him…

-Oh?…

 

The boy started shaking as he remembered it, holding his own arms, eyes wide with terror. Whatever he had discovered that day had left a huge impression on him and he was clearly traumatized.

 

-My brother always had this white spot on the tip of his otherwise black tail; I’m sure of it.

-Yes, I know, I do recall the same thing.

-When I found him, his fingers were dirty. His clothes were stained too, but I kind of assumed it was ink. He did write a lot of letters, and his things were out on his desk. A pool of ink was covering his last words, so I’ll never know what he wrote just before his death. But his tail…

 

He stopped talking, jumping in nervousness as steps could be heard coming towards the kitchen. He knew from the sound of high heels that his wife was the one approaching. Bloody hell, he was just about to learn some juicy information! He had to know, he just had to! Without much thought about it, he got up, grabbed the boy’s shoulders and tried to look at him in the eyes.

 

-What about his tail?

-Aren’t you boys energetic early this morning!

4fe 50 – Calls

A loud bang was heard. Beatrice sighed. Again.

Her master would always bang on his table when he was on the phone lately. Every news must have been frustrating ever since his daughter had come back to snatch his son right under his nose after he had looked everywhere for him; or was she the one he was talking to every day? The usual tension in the household wasn’t ready to go away, and everyone knew it.

A man quickly walked by, his back arched, his tail scruffy. He looked nervous, or obsessed, as he ran to the main door. He had probably taken a bathroom break and was hurrying back to his post. He was the type of guy to freak out of he wasn’t in his spot every single second. Beatrice simply rolled her eyes at this sight.

 

-Richard, nobody stole your door, you can calm down.

 

Instantly the man glared at her and hissed.

 

-My door, miiiiine, my door! Don’t you dare approach it, witch!

-I don’t plan on it.

 

He glared at her some more, making some sort of weird signs that she assumed meant I have my eyes on you, before he stood up and started walking normally, as if nothing had happened. She crossed her arms and looked at him, unimpressed.

She was brought back to reality by a loud snap of the phone in its place. She straightened herself, waiting for any incoming order, and heard him sigh heavily, before loudly talking to himself.

 

-How dare she just runs off with the son I’ve taken so long to shape up! And what in the world is up with him feeling endangered here?

 

A few more angry mumbles about how he should be the one to decide whatever happened to the boy, and not his ungrateful daughter. He had definitely been on the phone with her. First Alexander, now her. The peaceful days seemed far away and Beatrice just couldn’t wait until the chaos would finally stop and she could get back to her routine. Any second now, she expected her master to giver her a new order…

 

-Beatrice!!

 

Ah, there we go. She took in a deep breath and hurried inside, making sure to stay calm and serious.

 

-Yes, sir?

-Bring me a cup of tea, same as usual. Make it quick!

 

She bowed down politely and started making her way quickly to the kitchen. She knew how to brew the beverage, but she still hoped Alicia would be there to do it for her, to avoid a few complains on the taste. Sometimes she wondered if the man even liked tea at all. Luck must have been on her side because sure enough as she was coming down the stairs, she heard the cook’s voice. Who was she talking to, she wondered? She didn’t sound as jolly as usual.

Beatrice didn’t have the luxury of time and if the other woman was busy then she would make that tea herself. However she couldn’t help but notice that she was on the phone with the most worried expression she had ever seen on her face.

 

-Oh, sorry I’ll… I’ll call you back later.

 

The dark-skinned woman was already making her way to the cook’s collection of teas, paying no mind to the conversation next to her, when Alicia hung up the phone with a sigh and rub of her eyes, getting up from the small chair she had been sitting on to join her.

 

-Is this for Georges? Let me do it.

-Yeah, thanks. Do you have any scones?

-They’re in the oven, probably done, let me boil this water and I’ll get them for you.

 

She nodded as only answer, satisfied. Fresh scones would definitely get her some points with her master. The satisfaction soon faded away as she glanced at the other woman work. She sighed and scratched her hair, already annoyed at herself for what she was about to say. She let her back rest on the counter next to Alicia, arms crossed.

 

-Something’s on your mind.

-H-huh…?

-You’ve been eating more than usual, haven’t you? You always do this when you’re upset.

-Are you saying I’m fat?

-You’re not using any French word, you’re not swearing and every movement you’re doing is quick and rough.

-You think I’m fat!

-…And you’re making a scene over your weight. Allie, what’s wrong?

 

Teary pools of teal eyes looked at her and she instantly regretted bringing up a personal matter in here. Why hadn’t she waited until they were alone together? Ah, but then again, they had been so busy that it had been hard for them to see each other, be it at work or out of it. She put a hand on her forehead and sighed.

 

-Your water’s boiling. And I’m pretty sure your scones are ready.

-Oh…

-Just… drop by tonight, alright?

-Beth…

-What is it?

-I’m worried for Martha, that’s all. I’m fine, really. Merci.

 

She smiled at her, but Beatrice could feel it was fake, before putting on some mitts and take the plate out of the oven. Worried about Martha, huh? Alicia always was the type to worry about others more than she worried about herself. Now she wondered what had happened back there to worry her so much, to the point of being depressed.

 

-Do you think that James will be fine in London?

-I’d rather have him back here, though.

-Yeah, but that’s only because you’re heartless!

-Maybe, but you shouldn’t talk about such things.

-You’re right… Here you go.

 

She had been so lost in their conversation that she hadn’t noticed Alicia had prepared the whole plate exactly the way her master always demanded it. She nodded and grabbed it, suddenly remembering she was asked to be quick about it, saying some quick good byes to the cook before heading to her master’s room with a brisk pace, barely slow enough to be called walking and not running.

When she arrived he was, once again, on the phone, talking loudly. She knocked twice on the door and stepped inside. His office was big and, apart from the various decorations on his wall and his desk, it was pretty empty. A lush red carpet was on the floor, as if to give it some sort of regal looks. Beatrice knew this room by heart even though she barely looked at it. The man of the house was still talking loudly, before being interrupted by some cough, as if proving he had been sick until recently, and finally hung up, not without hitting his desk with his fist, making every object on it jump and roll. He let himself drop back into his chair with a sigh and she took that as a signal to come in and drop the tray in front of him.

 

-What took you so long?

-Sorry sir, I did as fast as I could.

-Well, no matter.

 

He brought the cup to his lips, thoughtful, before dropping it down roughly, getting up and walking in circles. He hadn’t even tasted it yet.

 

-Yes, yes, that sounds about right. If I do it this way… Beatrice!

-What is it, sir?

-I’ll have you do something soon.

 

And with that, he sat down and grabbed his phone to once again make more calls.

4fe 49 – Candles

[This chapter will be taken out once the novel is edited for publication. Feel free to read it for entertainment, but be aware that some of the plot-related things in here will either (a) not come back, or (b) be changed completely.]

 

High-heel steps echoed in the eerie silence that had been taking place up until now. A faint light was approaching, reflecting in the mirrors that were placed here and there on the cold stone walls. The hallway was small and fresh, comfortably buried in the ground, unaware of the heats of summer. Day or night didn’t change a thing here; it would still be as dark and cold, seemingly detached from time itself. This place would normally be covered in a thin blanket of dust, but it was not; somebody would be taking care of it every day. However, the person incoming wasn’t here for that purpose.

The steps stopped. The woman looked around a moment. No one. She checked a second time. Still no one. Perfect. She approached her candle to see what she was looking for and after a few seconds of looking apparently aimlessly at the wall, finally found the door knob, turned it slowly and entered the room, closing the door behind her.

She held her breath, looked around with her small torch, eyes squinted like a mole trying to find its way and only when she was certain no one was here did she allow herself to sigh with relief. She was standing in one of the many room forgotten by her husband; or had he ever known about them? She wasn’t sure, but one thing she did know, there was never any sign of him coming in here. She had lurked around and stalked it many times before, feeling drawn to it for some obscure reason, waiting for the moment she would need it, watching out to see if her husband would come or not. And he had not. And now she felt was the time to use it.

For a moment she wondered whether she should light up the room’s torches or not, until something in the corner of the room caught her attention. Candles. Something, something deep inside of her, she wasn’t certain what exactly, but something was calling to her and she felt a flame of excitement in her belly.

She glanced to the corner of the place and noticed a mirror and some chalk. Apart from a small table with no chairs, the room was empty, slightly covered with sand in some places. It would be important to mention that all of the things present in here were things she had brought herself, but maybe was it because of the state of mind she was in currently, truth be told is that for some reason she believed spirits or some otherworldly being had brought them here, maybe even her own brother.

She stepped forward, stopped in front of the mirror, kneed down, dropped her torch next to her and stared into it. She was wearing some strange big round glasses that reflected her flame’s light and covered half of her face, had tied her hair and was wearing a lab coat. She was barely recognizable and, somewhere inside her insane mind, she felt that she looked similar enough to him, to her brother. A wide twisted smile painted itself on her lips. She was her brother. She dropped the smile.

 

-I’ve seen your slave, brother. She’s here, actually. You know, it’s quite funny how much of a messed up story she came up with. It was quite obviously full of lies, but I couldn’t help my curiosity. Besides, she fed me the perfect excuse to snatch James right under father’s nose without him suspecting anything.

 

She kept quiet for a moment, as if awaiting her brother’s response, and she listened, as if really hearing what he was saying, as if the mirror was keeping his soul in, this mirror she had found in his storage, it had been talking to her. Yes, yes, her brother’s soul had been in that breeze, he was back from the dead only for her, only to guide her through his plans, and now he had found home in this looking glass. She had also found his diary; not the one her husband had, not the one who talked about his everyday life, no; she had found his experiment diary, the one who had told her everything he had tried during his life, complete with what he had done and how, including the results, if they were failures, if they were successes, if they were confusing answers.

Sure enough her brother must have said something, because she was nodding slowly at the silent answers as she felt them through her soul.

 

-She was a little dirty you know, actually, pretty dirty. Oh and did I tell you? She tried to make me believe that James was her master. James! Just looking at that nasty scar on her face and you can instantly tell it’s your work. Isn’t that funny?

 

She laughed for a moment, obviously thinking it was hilarious.

 

-Ah, there is a sort of… signature that you leave behind. I do remember most of your slaves had it. You’re always so rough, so… raw. I can’t wait to see what you did to this girl so she’d survive this long. Most of them didn’t make it past a year. How long has she served you again…?

 

She seemed to think for a moment; or was she simply awaiting the answer once again?

 

-Ah, that’s right! Something like twelve years, and adding the four years after your death… That means she’s survived sixteen years. And she doesn’t seem about to die! This isn’t like you brother. I’m sure you’ve tested things on her. She must be a good guinea pig. It’s quite exciting.

 

She snickered a moment to herself, a huge grin slapped on her face. She felt the fur on her tail bristle with shivers of excitement and she held her own sides trying to contain it. After a moment of breathing heavily, her heart beating fast, hurting even, she finally calmed down, coughed a bit, dizzy, wondering if she had forgotten how to breathe. Instead of feeling enlightened as she had before, this attack had the effect of panic in her mind and she quickly got up, ignoring the moving walls around her, quickly catching the desk before she fell to the ground. Her arms and legs were shaking and she ignored them, convinced as she was already that her brother was angry with how slow she was dealing with things.

She pulled a hidden drawer from under it, grabbing the book inside of it. It looked completely worn out, some part looked like someone had tried to rip out the leather with a knife, as if to vent out their anger. She pressed her fingers against it and, trying to avoid any further wrath, quickly opened it and looked at the writing, trying to find the page that would be interesting, the page that would call out to her, the one that would beg her to read it. Her brother had hidden away all of his knowledge into this and all she needed to do was accept it.

She was flipping the pages delicately when she found it. First Steps, it said. This sounded like a good start. She made her way back to the floor without looking away, as if the writing itself would fly away, were she to look away for a second. She sat on the ground where she had been earlier, not bothering about the sand covering the floor; a very unusual thing considering how she would always fret if something wasn’t sparkling clean. She would always demand that she could see her face in the reflection of just about anything in her house and yet there she was, sitting on a dirty and dusty old cold floor.

She wasn’t paying that much attention to what she was reading. She was in a kind of different state of mind, as if drifting away, and part of her told her this was exactly what she needed. Still absorbed, she slowly got to her feet again, eyes still locked in with the writing, grabbed a candle, lit it up to her torch, placed it on the floor, grabbed another, dropping it in front of the first. When she was done, all of the candles were displayed to form a sort of circle. She grabbed the chalk.

Slowly but surely, with the care and perfectionism of an artist, she drew the circle that the candles were forming. Following the book’s instructions, she slowly drew other things in and out of it, writing, shapes, until she wasn’t sure what exactly she was doing, until she had dropped the book and was continuing on her own, following her instinct, following her mentor’s directions.

After a moment she felt faint, coughed in her elbow and lost her focus. She frowned for a moment, took off her glasses and rubbed her eyes. She placed them back in place, yawned, and slowly made her way out of the room, closing the door behind her, forgetting everything behind; her torch, the lit candles, the strangle chalk circle she had drawn on the floor, the diary, the mirror.

When she was snapped back to reality, she was standing by the door to her room and could hear her husband sleeping in their bed. She had no idea just how she had managed to find her way back in complete darkness, but she noticed the dirt on her and headed to the bathroom, disgusted, with intentions of washing it off.

4fe 48 – Lifestyles

Rosa yawned and stretched; the ride had been a long one, but there they were, finally at their destination: London. Or, more exactly, Laurel’s house, which looked huge. Not nearly as big as the Wilkes household, mind you, but quite big for someone who seemed to live there only with her husband, their butler and their maid.

She jumped off the place she held next to the driver’s seat and bowed slightly to him. He had been quite nice ever since they had gotten off and had told her many useful tips about the city and as such she didn’t want to go without some sort of good bye. He smiled gently at her and, when the two nobles were out, their luggage in the good care of their butler, he signalled for his horses to get moving and he left.

She ran to meet up with the others, only to realize Life was being lectured, again. His sister had done nothing but that on the whole way back, telling him he would really need to learn some serious discipline and matters because oh, she didn’t know what in the world their father had been teaching this child. The poor child in question looked nothing short of annoyed and kept on grumbling at everything she said, which only had the effect of taunting her into saying see? This is exactly what I mean! He would then sigh and listen to the new round of reproaches and try as best as he could to not provoke her again.

Rosa didn’t really feel concerned by it and decided it would be better for her to stay out of it, considering the lady obviously wasn’t very fond of her. Memories of the boat ride came back to her and she had to slap her cheek to try and get the thought of Life’s soft skin on her fingers away from her head. It kept coming back, like someone smoking craves a cigarette. Or someone who drinks coffee craves it. Speaking of which, she kind of missed the taste now that she thought about it.

And speaking of cigarettes, there went Laurel, taking out a lighter from an inside pocket of her coat, lighting one up. It wasn’t an unusual thing for anyone in this era to smoke, but the lady had this displeasing habit of blowing the smoke from her mouth right into your face as she was talking, effectively choking the person she was talking to. Thankfully, Rosa wasn’t one of these people who would get to talk to her a lot, but she kind of pitied Life.

In front of her a line of questioning was now taking place, one she found pretty pointless and boring and, judging from his expression, the young man thought so as well. The lady would ask them harshly, as if it was a job, and her brother would reply with the shortest still kind of polite answers he seemed to be able to come up with.

 

-Have you been playing an instrument, at least?

-I play the piano and viola.

-What about a sport?

-I mainly practice fencing.

-Good, good. Archery?

-I did some.

-How about riding a horse?

-Yes.

-And what have you been studying?

-Mainly politics and history, but also literature, engineering, philosophy, art and etiquette.

-You obviously didn’t understand something about the last one, then!

 

And there went another round of lecturing. Rosa didn’t really understand much of their conversation, but she had to admit that he must be very smart considering the amount of things he had named; not that she really doubted any of it. She had simply, ah, forgotten about it. These kind of things happen when you spend a long time with someone as equals and they set aside all of their intelligence for some reason. Maybe he was humble. Or maybe he hated being smart?

She was about to follow everyone in when she realized the lady had stopped moving and was looking at her with an air of disgust. What now?

 

-Off in the bath, you are! I’ll have Kassidy take care of you.

 

She simply nodded, uncertain if she really had anything to say at all, or at least anything that didn’t sound rude. She guessed Kassidy must be the maid, considering the butler was a man and the name was pretty feminine. She clenched her teeth in silence, thinking that for some reason nobody seemed to believe she was able to wash herself on her own.

She was directed to the bathroom and, before heading there, glanced at Life, only to realize he was too busy being nagged at to really look at her. Without a word she headed upstairs where Laurel had pointed her, not without being amazed at the insides of the building.

Everything was big and spacious and the maid must have been incredible, because everything looked like it was shining. Even the chandelier was proudly hanging from the ceiling, it’s light reflecting in every colour possible from its crystal. Rosa couldn’t begin to imagine how much of a pain that thing must have been to wash.

The floor was covered in white marble and the walls were so far, hidden away, in this angle, by the various stairs leading to the first floor, which, instead of being made of the same material, was instead made of some kind of fancy wood that Rosa probably had never heard of even once in her life. Everything looked so classy, big and clean…

She hurried to the bathroom before being scolded once again; if there was a way she could avoid that, she would. She was surprised to find another clean and spacious room, the place so white it almost seem to illuminate. In the middle of it stood a bath and, behind it, a long curtain seemed to reach up to the floor. Rosa knew the nobles enjoyed pulling it around the bath so nobody would see them clean themselves, but she had never seen one before. She had never been allowed in a fancy bathroom before, and she wondered if this was the only one, or if Laurel was picky and rich enough to want every single piece of her house to look pretty. Other than the bath, there was a toilet, a sink and a small wardrobe which held towels and the like; nothing too complicated.

The door opened behind her and she jumped in surprise. Turning, she saw a woman that was standing there, not exactly young, but not exactly old either. She had a warm smile painted on her face, wore tiny glasses on her nose and had a dark dress with an apron. Her hair was tied up tightly and her small dark brown ears twitched in curiosity.

 

-You must be the new one. Please don’t take offence, milady likes when everything is clean. Some kind of fear of all that is dirty, you see.

 

Rosa frowned. People could be afraid of dirt? She knew the nobles weren’t very fond of getting their hands in the mud for whatever reason, but she had never guessed any of them could be scared of it. She didn’t have much more time to think, seeing as the maid was already letting the water flow in the tub and turned at her with an expression that clearly meant I suggest you undress now, unless you want me to do it for you. She didn’t need to be told and as such, obeyed the silent order without any word.

The maid nodded and, once Rosa was in the water, proceeded to grab her clothes and take them away. She turned at her for a moment before leaving.

 

-You will need to take off this bandage on your tail as well. Milady isn’t fond of hidden things.

 

She stood there and was obviously waiting for it, so the girl grimaced, took it off and threw it at her. Once Kassidy was satisfied and left, she allowed herself to sink in the water some more, watching the bubbles her breath was creating. She stayed like this for a moment, her long hair floating in the water, before deciding it would be better to get started on washing herself before someone else decided to do it for her. She was reminded of the one time Charlotte had taken hours and hours to get her cleaned, and she wasn’t about to repeat this scene.

While it certainly didn’t take as long this time, satisfaction wasn’t the reaction she had upon stepping out of the bath. The maid had brought her new clothes to wear, clothes that not only weren’t hers, but they were a pair of black pants and a white shirt. Rosa was used to wearing dark colours, but seeing as she really wasn’t in a position to complain, she grabbed them, wondering what had happened to her things.

 

-I’m sure milady would have liked you to wear a dress, but you’re taller and skinnier than me, so I brought you some of Davis’ clothes. If she makes a fuss about it, I’ll make sure to get you something in town later on.

-Davis…?

-My husband. I’m sure you’ve met him, he’s the butler of the house.

 

Not really knowing how to respond to this, she simply nodded, secretly happy to have been too tall for a dress and grabbed the clothes, putting them on. The pants were surprisingly a perfect fit, and they were more comfortable than what she’d imagined. The shirt, however, was a little too big and, seeing as she refused to put it in her pants, made her look like she was floating in it. Kassidy seemed a little against the idea, but didn’t make any comment. She gave her a pair of shoes and a black ribbon.

 

-Put this in your neck. You look kind of plain if there’s nothing.

 

She examined her a little longer after the other had put everything on, fixed the shirt’s collar, then observed some more. She walked away for a moment, grabbed a hairbrush and came back to fix Rosa’s hair, giving her a new haircut, one which she wasn’t used to and wasn’t certain she liked. She could feel the right half of her face was clear, which meant part of her scar was probably showing. The maid walked back once again to look at what she had done. A serious nod and a satisfied smile.

 

-This will do. Your name?

-Rosa.

-I’m sure you know already, but I’m Kassidy. I don’t know what your story is, or why you’re here; and I don’t need to know. But since you’ll be staying with us from now on, don’t be shy to ask me anything you’d like to know. You’re better off asking beforehand than making a mistake.

-T-thank you.

 

She nodded, as if to herself more than anything, and stepped out. Not exactly certain what she was expected to do, she simply decided to hurry up and follow her, grimacing about her new look.

Scars were ugly. At least, this is what Rosa thought of them. The reason why she hid them. She hated scars, like they were a plague; while she knew she was covered with them, if a single one of them showed up, she’d do anything she could to hide them. This was the reason she was always fully clothed, the reason why she’d wear bandages on her tail, the reason she had her bangs cover half of her face. Scars were hideous.

And because she was covered in them, she hated the way she looked. She would feel uneasy when she walked in front of a mirror and never look at herself directly. Sometimes she’d get this awful feeling of being unable to recognize her own face.

And now there she was, forced to wear clothes that left some of them showing, forbidden to do anything to hide them. She felt uncomfortable. She felt uneasy, naked. She didn’t even know what had happened to her old clothes, but somehow she knew she wouldn’t see them ever again.

She stopped in her tracks when she realized she wasn’t following anyone anymore and didn’t know where she stood. Had she somehow gotten lost? She heard voices to her left and followed them, relieved to recognize Life’s. The chatter stopped as she got closer and entered the room and she could tell in his eyes that he was dying to run to her, but he didn’t. His sister was with him, her eyes harsh as usual. He smiled.

 

-You’re looking good, Rosa!

-Could be better. But definitely an improvement from yesterday.

4fe 47 – Diary

Betrayed. Charlotte felt like Rosa had given up on her. Thrown her away. Left her behind. There were not even enough words in the dictionary to explain how she felt, no word strong enough to do it. She was angry, sad, lonely, and while a part of her was begging to see her again and hold her in her arms; yet a part of her also knew she wouldn’t forgive her.

How could she? How dare the one person who had fetched her up in her destroying world, the one person who saved her life, with who she had talked so much back there, expecting death slowly, how dare that one person she had absolute trust into run off without her, without giving a single explanation? Now that she thought about it, Rosa hadn’t really given her much attention ever since she had gotten here. She who would always talk about anything and nothing hadn’t said nearly as much in the four years they had lived together, despite sharing the same bed.

Desperation gnawed at her and ate her from the inside. She wondered if it had been wise to even bother changing worlds at all. She tried to push away the thought, thinking about how she had met wonderful people in here, like Martha and… Greg, maybe. Somehow her thinking only made her feel even more depressed.

A knock on the door. She didn’t respond. She was sitting on her bed, head on her knees and hugging them, alone in complete darkness. She didn’t want to see anyone. She didn’t want to talk to anyone. She didn’t want to listen to anyone. She wanted to just vanish slowly, little by little, until she was gone. Where she usually felt love for Rosa, she was now hurt and, trying to find some way to heal her wounds, the only things that would come to her mind were how much she missed her, effectively doing nothing but put salt on her bleeding heart. A new knock on the door.

 

-Charlotte, open up. How long do you plan on staying in there?

 

No response.

 

-Are you sleeping?…

 

She heard the knob turn, the door open and then abruptly stop, blocked by the furniture she had placed there. A few stubborn tries to open it wider, but the desk was stuck between the door and the wall. A pause, the light outside flickering, and Charlotte could imagine the baker woman trying to peek in and see if she couldn’t see her, only the room she was in was pitch black, lights turned off and bed sheets over the windows, and the room Martha was in was bright, which had this effect of turning off your night vision and as thus, she probably couldn’t see much of anything.

This time her lights flickered on and she was snapped back to reality, looking at the ceiling for a moment, wondering what was different from the second before, as if not understanding why her eyes were suddenly hurting. Charlotte had dark eyes, so they weren’t all that sensible to light, but when you’ve been hiding in complete darkness for days you can’t help but get used to it. She still stared blankly, not understanding where she stood anymore. A sigh.

 

-Can you please come down…? I need help in the bakery.

 

A long, awkward silence and still, Charlotte stubbornly refused to look at anything. If she had checked through that door maybe she would have realized how worried and heart broken the woman was. Maybe she would have realized that she wasn’t the only one to feel lonely, abandoned, and the way she reacted to this didn’t help the situation for either of them.

 

-Charlotte, dear, please get a hold on yourself.

 

A frustrated sigh and steps walking away, leaving the lights brightly opened. Charlotte frowned, but didn’t exactly get up to turn them off either. She wished she could make them turn off with the power of her mind and, for a moment, as if forgetting that she wasn’t in her home world, she expected them to obey her thanks to some magic.

They didn’t, and it brought her back to reality once again, tears falling down her cheeks as it hit her even harder. First Mage, now Rosa. Was she doomed to lose everyone dear to her? Not only everyone, everything. She had lost everything now, and in a wave of selfishness had nearly forgotten about Martha, the voice in her mind looping on how everyone ended up abandoning her.

She stayed like this for a moment longer, hardly wishing to stop or hide her tears, feeling just like a drowning victim, desperately trying to find something to hold on to, only to realize nothing is really there to support you. She painfully lifter herself to her desk and grabbed her diary, and, in a slow motion, went back to sitting on the bed. She brushed it with her hand and stared at it for a long time, suddenly feeling calmer, as if drawn in by her own work.

The book in itself didn’t all that special; it was made of leather, used up with time, its pages yellowed and uneven. It almost looked awkward, as if fatter than it should be. A few pieces of paper seemed to be bigger, or had just been thrown in without much though; they were protruding, some damaged by the belt that was holding the journal tightly closed. She had made this thing all by herself, back when she was younger. She had bought the leather and found some nice parchment paper to give it an old look. She had cut out the pieces herself and had made them uneven on purpose as she told everyone, but some still believed it was simply a lack of talent. While in her world it looked kind of vintage, here it was simply a normal thing, which meant it didn’t really stand out at all.

She unbuckled the belt and suddenly the pages seemed to breathe, as if complaining they needed more place. Truth be told, this thing was hard to close up and open for that very reason; which meant if anyone other than the young girl would get the idea of spying on it, she’d surely notice it. But since Rosa didn’t know how to read to begin with, books had little interest to her and there hadn’t been much need to keep it away from unwanted hands. The other girl had never even set eyes on it.

She turned the cover slowly from the tip of her fingers, the crisp sound of her journal making her smile. It still had that faint, very faint smell of her own world, as if to prove she wasn’t imagining all of it. The first page had nothing spectacular, not even any words, simply a fancy circle with lettering and a smudge of dirty water. Or was that coffee?

One by one, she turned the pages. Everything was written in delicate calligraphy lettering, all done by her own hand, with blue ink. A lot of pages contained drawings and even sometimes had things downright pasted in it. Here she had a fancy jewel covered in resin, a description of its magic proprieties written down next to it, like an encyclopedia. Here a crow’s feather, here a few hairs from some animal, a claw, a tooth; all of which were the result of her own research and, looking at it, made it look more like a grimoire or a bestiary than a diary. She loved the look of the dented pages.

Soon the objects gradually led to drawings. They were all painted nicely and while in her world it wasn’t anything extraordinary, here anyone who would stumble upon this would have been amazed at her talent. She hadn’t come up with the places that were pictured in it; she had simply copied the streets of where she lived, to make sure that once their world would be gone, she would have something to help her remember what it originally looked like. Some of them were made in watercolours, but most of them were sketched with a charcoal or done with ink. Again, all of them had some notes written down next to each image, as if to indicate what it was.

After a while even the drawings were gone and led place to words. The style of the letters changed slightly; they went from very tiny, thin and light words to something bulkier. You could still tell it was written by the same person, but it was obvious that a few years had passed. The first few lines read as follows;

A black mass has started appearing. I’ve tried to catch it and put it in this diary, but for some reason every time I grab it between my fingers it suddenly evaporates. It kind of looks like mold, but appears on metal as well. It’s been appearing more and more often and now it’s starting to worry even the royal family. We’ve tried using magic on it, but no matter which kind we did, the only result seemed to make more of it appear. Nobody knows what it is, but something tells me it feeds off and consumes energy.

She smiled bitterly. This was the beginning of her world’s cruel fate. Soon after, so many people tried to get rid of it by the wrong methods that they ended up simply feeding their demise. It was already too late when people realized they were consuming the last bits of resources their world had to offer them. The end had come much sooner than anyone would have expected it; three years and it was gone. Three years and she was the only one who had managed to survive. Loneliness gripped at her heart even more.

She skipped a few pages, unwilling to go through that dark period. Soon things were pasted down again, the writing next to them looking like quick scribbles, done in a hurry. She remembered this; she was going to leave her world and wanted to take as much of it as she could. She had long since gave up on using her magic, as she had understood and, mostly, wanted to survive for as long as she could, but since her world itself was constantly consuming it, there was nothing she could do to completely stop the untouchable enemy. Some of the words were barely legible at all, some made her wonder what she had even tried to write.

A complete page was dedicated to Mage. Precise sketches of that owl statue in many of its angles, a sketch of that feather she took away and was still wearing under her clothes. A few more pasted things with the same hurried doodles. Then something made her heart skip a beat. One of the rocks that were there didn’t exactly look anything special; half of it was painted in black and dots covered the other half. However the writing next to it was clearly talking about how it was supposed to be completely white. The paper under it had a large, dark stain, and for a moment she wondered if she hadn’t dropped any ink on it.

She turned the page and the stain was there. Turned again, and there it was; smaller and smaller, but it covered about five pages of the first things she had noted down when coming to Rosa’s world. Panic gripped her as she wondered if she hadn’t brought her world’s plague with her. Her heart hurt. She felt dizzy with guilt. She wondered if there was anything she could do about it, anything to do.

The first thing that came to mind would be to burn her diary. Maybe that would make it go away… Then again, she was very attached to it. This was all that was left from her world. That, and…

She grabbed the necklace she was wearing. She hadn’t glanced at it in a long time. She was horrified to find out that it, too, was slowly getting covered with black dots. It stained her fingers like charcoal and when she sniffed it she noticed it didn’t smell anything in particular. She was about to slip her necklace back in her clothes when she noticed her skin was dirty where her necklace usually stood. Had this been there for a long time? She didn’t recall seeing it last time she washed herself…

She tried to calm herself down. This was probably just something silly. She let it fall down on her chest, closed the diary, moved the desk away and walked to the bathroom to clean her blackened fingers.

Nothing was certain yet. And if it ever got any worse, she could always burn her things later. There was no need for her to give up on any of her possessions yet. It’s not like anyone had died, and it wasn’t as if anyone used magic in here…

4fe 46 – Boats

-Oh, she’s not sitting with us. Have her sit by the driver’s seat.

 

Laurel gave her brother a harsh stare, her eyes almost telling him exactly seriously, what are you thinking? Slaves are dirty, they don’t sit down with us. Rosa could tell she wasn’t exactly loved, but she didn’t mind; so long as she could be with Life, nothing else mattered. She stared coldly at the lady, before making her way to the front of the carriage where the driver moved a bit to leave a place for her. She climbed easily and sat down, her expression dark.

Behind them she could hear the nobles discuss a moment, before finally entering the carriage and closing the door behind them. She could still make up part of their conversation through the curtains, but she paid it no mind. Before long the driver gave his horses a signal and the two of them started moving forward.

The noise of their hooves on the cobblestones was soothing and, noticing the driver wasn’t paying any attention to her, she finally allowed herself to let out a long sigh. She grabbed her own arms, feeling her heart beat awkwardly strong, feeling weak and shaking. What had she been thinking, making up all of these lies in front of a noble? She wasn’t sure, but so far the lady had believed her. She was silently thankful that Life had caught on and played along, but she was afraid she might not be able to keep up the act for too long if she was asked too many questions.

She slapped her own cheeks. No. She had to keep this up. If anything, she had to take all the blame; not Life. He was her master now, even if he was against it. She was ready to do anything for him, and so she would. She lift her head to look ahead and realized with horror they were headed towards the town’s exit. She caught a glimpse of Charlotte and Greg through the corner of her eye and couldn’t help glaring the young man. Both of them stared at her in shock, before the girl ran off in the direction they had left, as if about to ask some kind of explanation to Martha. The young man followed her quickly, frowning back at Rosa.

She turned her attention back to the road, frowning to herself. She felt a new wave of panic remembering where they were. She looked at the familiar stones and had a hard time swallowing when she realized she might never see them again. Everything she knew stood here. Everyone she knew lived here. She had never seen anything outside. She had never really taken the time to think about how big the world might be. She knew there were other places outside their town; Life had told her; but she had never taken the time to really think about what that implied. Or, rather, she had never thought that it would one day affect her.

Soon the walls of stone and cobblestone were gone, to give way to trees and a road made of dirt. To their left, between the branches and leaves, she could tell there was a river of sorts. Before long it became eerie calm and even the nobles behind them had stopped talking. The only sounds that could be heard came from the horses and she tried hard to not worry or panic any more than she already had.

How long had they spent like this? She wasn’t sure, but as they went on and on, only trees were visible. She had never seen this road, and she wasn’t certain she’d be able to find her way back to town on her own, were she to be left on her own to go back. The sun was slowly setting down and she was deep in her own thoughts when a knock on the window brought her back with a jump. She turned to see Life looking at her and, once he realized he had caught her attention, smiling. He moved a bit so that she could see his sister sleeping a little further away.

Without warning, the curtains fell back off and, as she tried to figure out what he was doing, she heard the carriage’s door opened to reveal the man who awkwardly tried to join them, not without attracting the driver’s looks of reproach. He finally managed to make his way to them and sat between the both of them. He lost his smile as he looked at Rosa, serious.

 

-Do you know where we’re headed?

-To your sister’s house?

-But do you know where that is?

-Outside of town, I’m guessing.

-London! We’re going to Britain, Rosa!

 

She grimaced. Now that was a name she knew. She might not know much about the place itself, but even she knew that the Queen lived in Britain. But was it big, was it small, close to her home, or far away, she had no idea. She had assumed they would eventually get there, but, having never gone outside of her town, she didn’t know how long going to the other country would take.

Seeing as she wasn’t getting it at all he sighed and let himself sit more normally. He looked at the sky, seemingly worried about something.

 

-What’s the matter?

 

He turned to the driver, ignoring her question and she couldn’t help but feel a little irritated.

 

-How long until we arrive to the port?

-We’ll be there in an hour or so, sir.

 

They stayed in an awkward silence for a moment. They were sitting so close in their cramped space that their legs were touching and Rosa was almost half sitting on nothing. She could feel that he was just as tense as she was and, as he was about to say something, one of the wheels hit a bump and he hit her forehead with his chin, resulting in the both of them holding their own faces. They exchanged a few funny expressions before he finally decided on voicing what was on his mind.

 

-Have you ever been on a boat before?

-I’ve never even seen what a boat looks like.

 

He gave her a curious look, but seeing as she was serious, he had no choice but to believe her. They once again fell into a long silence and by the time night had fallen, they were still on the same never-ending road. She heard an owl in the distance and, trying to locate it, was surprised by Life’s head suddenly falling on hers. She paused for a moment, before trying to see what he was doing when she realized he wasn’t moving at all, and it took her a while to realize he had fallen asleep while sitting, his arms crossed. She shivered a bit, glad that they were in the summer, but still not used to the ocean’s breeze, and scooted closer to him.

She, too, was snoozing off when finally there was a change in the scenery. The trees were less and less present and a small fence appeared, sculpted in stone. Shapes were engraved in it and Rosa guessed they were words, possibly indicating where they were. She tried shaking the young man to wake him up, but it was an incredibly loud, ear-breaking noise that woke everyone up with a jump.

The horses stopped, the driver stepped down and walked to open the door. It took Rosa a moment to realize she and Life were clinging to each other strongly, tails fluffed up, their hearts beating fast from the shock. He, too, seemed to realize and they let go of each other quickly, but as he stepped down to reach his sister, she took a moment to calm down and take a deep breath.

The place they were at looked like nothing she had ever seen. The land in itself was pretty small, but long bridges of wood stretched down to the water, to which large boats were attached. A tall red and white tower sat at the edge of a cliff, on top of which a light was illuminating the sea, moving from left to right across the horizon. A few small houses were placed here and there, most of which were closed off for the night and Rosa guessed they were some kind of shop or restaurants, rather than habitations. A man in white uniform with a funny hat rushed off to them just as she was jumping off the carriage herself to join the others.

 

-Madam! Your boat is ready.

-Good, good. We’ll be there in an instant.

 

What followed was a discussion about who would carry what and, impressed by everything new she could lay her eyes on, it took her a moment to realize that she was expected to carry them. She apologized quickly, under the lady’s glares, and hurried up to get the luggage, only to realize that there were more than she had expected, especially considering Life hadn’t brought anything. Considering whining about it would be a pretty bad idea, she grabbed the different suitcases as best as she could and followed the others without a word, unsure as she was as to where she would have to drop these.

Laurel was doing her best to keep her little brother’s attention no matter what and one must have to bee blind to realize he couldn’t care less. He was, however, polite enough to walk by her side nonetheless, and Rosa had a hard time keeping up their pace, even though it wasn’t all that quick. When they arrived on one of the strange floating bridges, though, the man in uniform from earlier took care of them for her and if at first she wasn’t too sure about it, a nod from Life told her it was the right thing to do and she gave them to the man, secretly relieved that she didn’t have to carry them any longer.

She then allowed herself to look at the waves and her eyes brightened up with how beautiful a sight it was. She wished she could stare at it forever but, feeling the lady’s glare burn into her skin, she forced herself back to reality and caught up with them. They had installed a strange piece of wood, one of which Rosa looked at with uncertain eyes; as a matter of fact, she was afraid of heights and, while the distance between the water and the wood wasn’t all that great, she had no doubt that the sand underneath was much further, and she didn’t trust in her own abilities to keep her head out of the choking water, were she to ever fall down.

She swallowed hard and, not wanting to show her fear to the lady, tried to keep a straight face as much as possible. She set a food on the board and, while it was certainly large enough for even Martha to step on without having to fight for her balance, it wasn’t exactly stable and she found herself lightly running to the other side, where she almost bumped into Life. She was surprised to find him nearly as tense as she was and, for whatever reason, found it comforting.

The sky was still painted a deep indigo when the ship set sail. Rosa had never been on a boat before, never even seen one, so everything her eye could be set on was something new and amazing. When they had opened the sails she had been standing close by and refused to look away. Thankfully for her, the nobles had to fix their cabins and she didn’t really have anything to do in the meanwhile. She was glad they hadn’t asked her to set up the beds, even though logically she should have, or else she would have missed the show.

The men had yelled to each others words she did not really understand the meaning of, pulled on some ropes to set the sails free, then the rope had been taken from the docks and the everything had moved on its own, smoothly. No matter where she looked, all she could seem to think of were how many ropes there were and how big this thing was. Everything was so much more peaceful and smooth than the train and she couldn’t help but enjoy the cold breeze of the sea as well, nearly forgetting how far she was from home. It was like a dream and, as always, she would wake up the next morning in her bed, as if none of this had ever happened.

 

-It’s pretty, isn’t it?

 

She jumped a little when she realized that Life was standing next to her and she wondered how long he had stood there. He was smiling at her and she couldn’t help but look away and blush, feeling some kind of shiver coming up from her spine; but whether it was from the breeze or him, she wasn’t sure.

She was about to move, but he motioned her to stay where she was, joining her to stand over the guardrail like she had been doing, breathing in the cold air. She looked at his profile and from this angle could only see his white ear. She couldn’t help but think that he really did look like a noble like this and she felt ashamed to be even next to him. She was about to walk away when he pulled her close against him. He didn’t say anything, but she couldn’t help but feel he knew she was about to go away and had refused her plan. She didn’t want to go against any of his wishes, especially now that she had decided to follow his orders as a slave. Besides, his warmth was comforting.

They stood like this for a long time, one that Rosa wished would go on longer but, as it was to be expected, his sister eventually came to fetch him, not failing to mention about how he needed to be taught some discipline and matters. The comments about how slaves were dirty and he should not touch them didn’t fail to be caught by her ears either and soon the lady was implying that she might have fleas or some disgusting illness, as if she was talking about an errant cat, all of which Life replied to saying she was making no sense. She had then sighed and pulled on her hat some more, laying her head on her arms and closing her eyes, wanting to miss out the rest of their conversation.

Soon Laurel told him she was about to get some sleep, since it would take a few hours before they reached Britain anyway and it was a pretty pale Life that came back to her. At first she thought that he was simply exasperated by it all, but it soon became clear that he didn’t feel well and worry swept over her.

 

-Life? Is something wrong?

-I don’t like the way it moves… I don’t feel so good.

-You should get some rest.

 

He nodded and mumbled some words that she decided to accept as an agreement to her idea and she let him put an arm around her and rest his head on hers while she was leading them down to the cabins. He had grown again, she couldn’t help but notice, and she wondered just how tall he would become. He certainly had a few inches more than she did now, and were they to stand up next to each other, her nose would arrive to his chin. She remembered with a pang of nostalgia the days where he was smaller than she was and couldn’t help out a small chuckle. He twitched his ears as only sign of having heard her, but he was most likely feeling too unfit to comment about it.

It took her a while to bring him to his room, not because she was lost, but because boats had this weird habit of being complicated and having a lot of stairs. They were walking slowly and had to take a few breaks when Life felt his nausea was about to get the best of him, but won over it every time.

It was not without relief that he let himself fall down on his bed, whimpering about how he didn’t feel good at all. She brushed away the hair from his forehead and checked if he had any fever at all. His eyes were closed and he barely reacted at all; for a moment she wondered if he hadn’t fallen asleep already. He let out a small sigh and she guessed that must have been the case.

She tried to think for a moment about what she should be doing and the simple answer that came to her was changing him so that he would be more comfortable. Rosa wasn’t usually shy over these sort of things; she had seen Charlotte change in front of her before without flinching, after all. Only, something about undressing a sleeping and vulnerable Life felt awkward yet appealing. She hit her head in embarrassment and decided to get started instead of staying there wasting time blushing.

She slowly untied his shirt and wondered for a moment if he even had different clothes to put on for the night. She sat down next to him after a moment, her chin on her hand and her elbow on her leg, thinking. In the corner of the room was one of the suitcases she had lifted earlier, a simple thing made from brown leather with a belt tying it up. She got up and walked to it, opening it carefully and as quietly as possible and was satisfied to realize they contained his clothes. She took the time to ponder when Laurel had picked it up, seeing as they hadn’t stopped by the Wilkes household, which was a good thing in and of itself, and decided that the lady must have had dropped by earlier to pick them up, for whatever reason.

She shuffled though the various clothes and finally found what she thought must have been his night clothes. She turned around and yelped when she realized he was behind her, looking at her doing with an amused smile on his lips. He grabbed the clothes and pulled her gently to kiss her forehead.

 

-Thank you; I can change clothes on my own, though.

4fe 45 – Cold

The door the the bakery chimed. It had been closed earlier for the simple and only reason that Martha was working alone and had gone in the back to cook more pastries. Seeing as she was completely busy with both hands in the oven, Life offered to go check our who it was, and she thanked him as he was leaving, Rosa following him silently.

He was smiling widely, just about to welcome any customer like Charlotte had always done it, but he stopped cold. The woman who had entered the shop was fixing her hair, wearing a long coat, the kind you wear with dresses and had a long-haired fancy tail, the tip of which was faintly white. She looked around the place, her eyes harsh. She looked familiar and it took him a moment to recognize her. His friend stopped at his side, giving him a questioning glance, as if she was wondering what was going on.

 

-Sister…?

-Ah, there you are James. That simplifies a lot of things.

 

Instantly an alarm must have rang in Rosa’s head, because she was suddenly on her guards, eyes locked with the newcomer’s, who barely noticed her at all. He swallowed.

 

-Why are you here?

-I should be asking you! Father told me you’ve vanished, and here I am, finding you in this… peasant home. What were you thinking?

 

He looked down, feeling nervous, unsure what to answer. Before he managed to find the words he was looking for he realized, wide-eyed, that Rosa had stepped up, looking at his sister with eyes full of determination and assurance, more than he had ever seen her have. She put one of her knees to the ground, a hand on her chest and bowed slightly her head before talking.

 

-I’ve been with the Young Master this whole time, Madam, to be sure no one could harm him in any way.

-And who might you be? You’re just as disgusting as this whole place.

 

As she spoke she took a fan out of her sleeve and started moving it slowly in front of her face, as if trying to get rid of some bad stink. Frustration built up inside of him when he thought that she hadn’t done that before Rosa had stepped up, but he said nothing, clenching his fists as only reaction.

 

-I’m his slave.

 

Her sentence had the result of a bomb. Life stared at her wide-eyed, wondering what she was talking about, Laurel suddenly had a glimpse of interest mixed in with her surprise and Martha, who had just come back from the back, drying her hands with a towel, stepped back to watch the scene, realizing she was arriving in a war zone between nobles, one she didn’t wish to be part of if she could avoid it.

 

-Pardon me to not believe any of it. You look like a homeless child who lives on the street. Our slaves usually bear a mark.

 

Without waiting a second, Rosa pulled off her glove and showed it, the woman in front of her giving her a disgusted look.

 

-As you can see, I’m not lying. Truth is, my master’s life was in danger and we were forced to run away. I’ve been watching over him this whole time.

-And what, exactly, was after his life? I haven’t been told any of this!

-That’s because the one who wants to harm him is part of his own family. The nobles don’t exactly enjoy others finding out about their inner conflicts.

 

Without waiting for another word, the woman grabbed Rosa by the scarf with a gloved hand, a look of pure disgust in her eyes. Life had to snap out of his state of confusion and shock over how she was claiming to be his slave before he realized what was going on.

 

-You little insolent rat…!

-Sister, stop!

 

She stopped moving, glaring at him and asking him to go on. In her hands Rosa was still staring at her more cold-blooded that he had ever seen her. She didn’t look like the nervous wreck he had always known anymore. He held his sister’s stare with new found determination.

 

-She’s… she’s telling the truth.

 

They stared at each other for a long time, his sister finally letting go of Rosa while doing so. She seemed to think for a moment, then finally noticed Martha. Her eyes turned back to her brother.

 

-So you’re telling me you’re not planning on going back to the manor, are you?

-I’d rather not.

 

She sighed, obviously irritated. She pointed the baker.

 

-You. Is this your home?

-Yes, it is, and I’d appreciate if you would stop calling it disgusting.

-Why is my brother here? He’s a noble.

-I know, but as these children have told you already, we were merely keeping him safe.

 

They exchanged a few angry glares and Life stepped back, feeling more nervous than he ever had. He wondered what would happen next, if his host would be in any trouble at all. He didn’t want that, considering how welcoming she had been to him.

 

-Sister! This woman has been nothing but kind to me. If anything, we should be thanking her.

 

She kept her cold glance a moment longer, before finally sighing.

 

-May I borrow your phone? I need to make a few calls.

 

Martha gave her a slightly surprised glance, inviting her to the back. The woman’s high heels resonated on the floor with every step, contrasting highly with the baker woman, who didn’t look anything feminine next to her.

Soon, they were out of sight and he ran off to grab his friend’s shoulders, turning her so that she’d face him. She was looking down and he couldn’t see her eyes, but he could tell she was shaking.

 

-Why did you say that?!

 

She silently raised her head slightly, to look him in the eye. He felt like she was about to cry, but there was still some of that cold determination left in them and he shuddered a little. Just what did she have in mind? Far away he could hear his sister having a lively conversation, but couldn’t make out her words. He heard her hang up and frowned at his friend, talking through clenched teeth so that no one else would hear him.

 

-You’re not a slave. I don’t know what you have in mind, but don’t forget that.

-I won’t lose you again, Life.

 

He was taken aback by her words, but had no time to react to it that his sister was back, rubbing her forehead as if she had a headache from this whole situation. He let go of Rosa and turned to look at her, questioning, but before he could say anything she had put a hand on his shoulder and was making an awful face, one which made him shudder.

 

-He put you up to this, didn’t he? He was laughing on the phone I’m sure it’s all his fault!

-W-who…?

-My husband, who else!

 

He looked at her feeling utterly confused for a moment, before she let out a yowl of anger, making him jump. She then sighed, replaced her hat and gave him a harsh look.

 

-A carriage is on its way. You’re coming with me.

-H-huh? Where to?

-To my house, of course. You don’t leave me much choice.

-What about Rosa?

-She’s your slave, isn’t she? We’re bringing her with us. But please do find her more appropriate clothes.

-And wait, what about Martha?

 

He gave her a harsh stare and she returned an annoyed one. He felt he had been giving her nothing but trouble lately and he wanted to give her something if he could. He insisted and his sister gave in, sighing, hands raised in the air, as if saying fine, fine! She walked to the woman and took out a pile of money from her wallet, giving it to the baker woman.

 

-Thank you for watching over my brother while he was hiding. You should have enough to be able to renovate this place.

 

The women exchanged a few cold glares as she grabbed the money, before the lady finally stepped out, saying that they had to go now. Life gave Martha a sorry look, hoping she would forgive him, but he was welcomed by soft eyes. He ran towards her to jump in her arms.

 

-I’m sorry, Martha! Thank you for everything…!

-Take care of yourself, James. If you ever come around again, feel free to drop by.

-I’ll miss you…!

 

He clung hard at her, trying hard not to cry. She gave him a hard slap on his back and pushed him away gently, smiling at him.

 

-Come on now, boy, don’t make an old woman cry. You too, Rosa, take care.

 

She nodded at her, her expression a little dark. She was waiting by the door, her tail twitching, as if nervous that Laurel would leave without them or be angry. It was hard to tell what she was thinking at all. Guessing she didn’t really have anything to pick up, and neither did he, he ran to the door with teary eyes and bid his farewells to the woman a last time, before the two of them walked off.

Behind them, after they were gone for real, the woman had to grab a chair and sit down, finally letting her tears fall on her cheeks. She felt more alone than ever; the bakery hadn’t been this empty in over three years. And there she stood, as if finally realizing these kids wouldn’t stay here forever, as if forgetting they weren’t hers. She still couldn’t believe any of this was happening and oh, just what would she tell Charlotte when she’d come back…?