From my window, I watched Ella trip on a broomstick.
I almost called out to her.
Almost.
But I just watched her work in the garden for a few hours before Mia called me.
"Young master, you will be having dinner with the master today." Mia's words were put on the plate like healthy additions, but I don't like vegetables.
But the thing about vegetables is, they are force-fed to you, regardless of how you feel.
And so I waited for the sky to turn like eggplants and carrots. The colours meshed well.
Way too well, for an evening that was going to place me in heaven(more like hell).
I sighed and got dressed in clothes tight enough to be my skin. My throat tightened, as though there was food blocking my airways.
I had not even eaten anything yet.
Mia combed my red hair, normally it was Ella.
After she was finished, she bent down and hugged me, as though it were a protective charm.
She nodded at me, a little assurance.
I nodded back.
Then Martha took me to the dining room.
Before we reached the room, she squeezed my palms.
Another assurance.
Let's battle the final boss. Was that what they were saying?
It was definitely working.
I smiled at Martha and opened the door, and entered the room.
The room was as cold as ice cream that hurts your teeth.
There was a long table and a man who looked like Lucas Green. Looked like me.
And there was Ella, whose eyes dared not meet mine.
I tried not to meet hers.
"I heard you have been asking for a personal maid? Are you that incapable of taking care of yourself?" The man, whose name was Luke.
His voice was a delicate walk between hatred and decency.
"Don't worry, father, I am not as incapable as you like to think." I looked at him.
Saw the surprise spread in his eyes.
I'm not scared of him.
I'm not scared of him.
I'm not scared of—
"Really? What can you do?" His words out of his mouth into my chest, making it hard to breathe.
They sounded so similar.
I just wanted to run away and eat some plants.
"I can eat plants." I did not know why I said that; that truly was all I could do.
(how pathetic)
"Is this a joke? The green family is known to manipulate nature, to think it would end with someone like you, my beloved son." He took a bite out of his steak.
The meat was my heart, and he was one step away from spitting it out.
Guess fathers were only fathers until they had to be parents.
I took the fork and knife, my hands trembling, the past collided with the present, and probably will with the future.
But it would be fine, I can protect myself. I have Ell-–I have Illaine and the heroine.
I'll let the heroine protect me. And she could be friends with Illaine.
Yes, that was my master plan.
That is my master plan.
It will all work out.
I started cutting the meat, which, like my life, refused to be made kid-sized.
"Can you not even cut your steak?" He exclaimed, his voice sharp like the rose's thorns.
"I'm sorry, Father," I mumbled.
I'm older than seven, so why am I still scared?
Truly, I am pathetic.
"How foolish."
"I'm sorry, father—" Something spilled on me, cold water.
Ella spilled it on me.
"I'm sorry, young master, are you alright?" Ella's voice was like Ella's, reserved and tender, but this time with a little sharpness.
"You sure are becoming clumsy, Ella. Is my fool of a son—"
"No, my fingers just slipped, serving master Luke is an honour, I was so overcome by devotion, that my hands were trembling." She said, her sharpness increasing in dozens, while being covered in saccharine sweetness.
My father stared at her face with a smile that might as well be a frown.
He did not believe her.
But he nodded.
"Shall we go change, young master?" Ella met my eyes, and her voice softened.
"No need to come back, I'm done with dinner." The father stood up and walked away.
And Ella took me to my room, not a word shared, but she was warmer than anything else.
She opened the door to my room and placed me on my bed.
She bent down and crouched, and then wrapped my face with her hands.
"It would have been good if there were ointments for the heart." She smiled at me, like she had not for a day.
"You are horrible," I said, words I don't believe.
"Why did you ignore me? That hurt more than that father of mine." I said, losing control of what I was saying.
Regardless, her fingers were warm against my face.
"I don't have a reason, maybe, regret, that I couldn't help the young master back then." She said so softly that I felt like it was my heart that was breaking.
"And loneliness, that he is gone, and you two share the same body if not the soul. So it's a bit painful." She smiled and stood up, she held my right palm with both her hands.
"So you don't hate me?" I asked. My voice was so low, even I could not hear it.
"Hate you? Of course not, my dear plant-feeder," she smiled, then chuckled.
"It's hard to hate fools." She said 'fools' in a way that gave it a whole other meaning.
"Promise me, Ella, you won't ever hate me, please?"
I begged for something I knew she could refuse.
But she did not; she held out her pinky finger, and I connected mine with hers.
Her fingers were rough from all the housework. Mine were soft, like a kid's.
I was in a kid's body, but I was an adult begging for love.
And I would happily be a fool for anyone who loved me, even if a little.