Chapter 09

  In the Closet

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  A girl in a dark empty room hid herself below a desk, biding her time before the inevitable.

  She tucked herself into a ball and cried. All she could think about was her horrible mistake, and the consequences that would soon follow.

  The dimness made it hard to see. Only every once in a while did the moonlight shine through the thick curtains, providing just enough light to illuminate the tears that rolled down her pink cheeks. Her cries were muffled except for the fitful spasm occasionally arising in her throat.

  “I—hiccup—s-so sorry,” she whispered, biting her lips. The girl felt horrible, ashamed. She did not deserve to cry, and yet here she was bawling her eyes out like a fool. How she wished for this to end soon.

  However, the little girl was not alone. There was another child accompanying her in that small, dark room.

  A boy, standing in front of the crouched girl, quietly watched over her. He knelt down on both knees and ran his hand tenderly through the girl’s hair. The boy had thought of what words he might say, but nothing came out. Nothing could change what would happen. What could happen. Even he was not certain.

  Though the boy did not offer much more solace after that, the girl was incredibly grateful.

  They were both children, but the boy often felt much older to the girl. Like an adult. A guardian-figure, even. Whether it was his discipline or natural personality, the boy would constantly show signs of great maturity despite his young age. He was kind, calm and level-headed. Her actions were entirely her decisions, yet he never pointed the finger. Never got angry with her. Never stopped caring for her.

  The girl faced the boy at eye level, but her watery eyes blurred her vision. She unclasped the hands firmly wrapped around her knees and wiped her wet face, scraping roughly against her eyes.

  The boy hurriedly grabbed her wrist, worried she was going to scratch her face. He tried his best to soothe her, gently rubbing his thumb against the back of her scarred hand, cracked and calloused. With his other hand, he softly cleaned her tears away.

  “I’m..." the girl mumbles, "sorry.”

  The girl wanted to express more of her feelings to the boy, to thank him at least. However, she found that nothing came out other than her repeated apologies. The boy understood this and patted her head, hushing her like a mother would a child.

  “Enough, I would never blame you,” he comforted.

  She was grateful for his words, but could not stop the bitter feeling of guilt and dread churning within her. Her head ran wild with terrible possibilities, tragedies she felt were bound to occur in the next few minutes.

  Thump.

  The girl trembled. Her heart pounded madly.

  Thump… Thump…

  Her hands tugged at the boy’s shirt; her mind messy with fear and worry. On the other hand, the boy was firm, unafraid. Unmovable.

  Thump… Thump… Thump…

  The boy then stood, helping the girl up as well; her legs were slow to recover their strength. She could not tell how long she spent crouched down in that position.

  Unlawfully taken from Royal Road, this story should be reported if seen on Amazon.

  The boy led her to a closet. Inside, a mountain of clothes piled up on the floor, dusty books and rusty artifacts lined the shelves. He brought the girl to the deepest corner, making her sit behind a wall of jackets stacked up on each other. After making sure she was properly hidden, he turned to leave but the girl stopped him. He looked back, a mixed look in his face. Then, he knelt again, picked up a thin quilt, and covered her in it.

  “It’s cold tonight,” he said.

  She hugged the quilt tighter, even though she knew he was lying. The inside of the closet was stuffy and humid, at most. Of course, that didn't stop her from shivering.

  Pulling the hood over her head, the boy leaned in and whispered in her ear. She shut her eyes, listening closely before he parts. Then, he stood and left, closing the closet door shut.

  It was dark.

  And silent… until it wasn’t.

  Thump! Thump! Thump!

  All the girl could do was clutch onto her quilt. She was tempted to cry, but knew otherwise. If she were to be discovered now, that might only mean a harsher punishment for the boy.

  BANG!

  The girl flinched as the door snapped loudly, crumbling into several wooden fragments.

  “Where is she?” A low, guttural voice of a man ripped through the silence.

  “Who?” says the boy.

  His voice was as calm as it had been when he spoke to the girl. Without an ounce of urgency.

  “Don't you play with me! THE BRAT!” bellowed the man.

  He stomped the ground impatiently, striking the wooden floor until the entire room quivered in terror.

  “Which brat are you talking about?” the boy asked. “The brat in front of you or someone else?”

  SLAP!

  The sickening sound of leather on flesh echoed through the empty room.

  The noises that followed were so horrible that the girl crushed her ears with her hands and kept it there.

  One hit cracked, then the second, then the third. It was vile. Unending, with each strike following rapidly after another.

  The girl's eyes reddened and stung. Tears threatened to leak, but she would not let it. She clenched her teeth and dug her nails into the skin of her head. Yet, no matter how tightly she pressed her hands to her ears, no matter how long she waited, she could not escape the guilt pulling at her stomach. It forced her head to throb, her bones to shiver, and her lips to bleed red.

  She had to listen to the boy. She had to trust that it would stop. One false move would do nothing to help, anyway. The girl prayed and prayed, but there was no end to the man's beatings.

  Unable to withstand the fear that the moon might never set, the girl stood up, kicked away the piles of clothes, and burst out the door.

  As brave as she wished to be, the girl could do nothing but tremble at the sight of the man.

  She did not recognize him.

  His pupils bled red, pulsating with a wild, unrestrained anger. The air permeated with the smell of wine and burnt incense, so thick the girl feared it would stain her lungs. His cheeks were flushed the color of blood, and his sharp teeth ground against each other.

  A monster.

  A beast without its leash.

  “So, you were there.”

  Plop.

  The boy, caught in the man’s grasp, was released. His body fell limply to the floor, he did not even look at the girl. He was pale, except for the pink and blue that stained his skin. The girl's blood drained from her face.

  The man stared down at the boy, a shadow looming over his face.

  “How charming," he muttered. “My son has become a prince for someone as lowly as a maid. Who did I pay to be told this hilarious joke? Hah… too bad I don’t remember raising a liar.” The girl flinched as he raised his foot and stomped on the boy’s ankle. In return, the boy let out a pitiful yelp, pinned helplessly to the cold floor.

  That was enough punishment, and so the man focused his attention back towards the girl, that shivering mess of grime and filth.

  She could not move. Her legs collapsed and she fell to the floor instead. As he approached, the tears in her eyes caused her vision to blur. Now, even her sight failed to quench her fear. The man’s face contorted in her teary eyes. His pupils bulged out of its sockets, the red on his cheeks creeping into the white of his eyes like veins. His frown shape-shifted into a grin and stretched to his ears.

  “A mere maid dares to cross me, what mighty guts you have. However, you will regret it. I will make sure of it.”

  The man’s rage burned like a blazing fire, and she could feel the heat sear the surface of her skin. Even the room seemed to boil, seething in his hate.

  It was almost too real.

  Before the girl could even realise what was going on, the boy had already stood up. He raised his right arm and stretched his hand wide open. In the center of his palm, a spark lit up.

  “Wai—”

  It took no longer than a second for the tiny spark to burst into a sphere of red hot fire, large enough to cover his entire hand.

  But it didn't stop there.

  The fire grew and grew, faster than the wings of a dragonfly. The Duke could barely turn around before the whole room was engulfed in a searing, orange glow.

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