All I can say? School's been a monster. I'll try to update more frequently! –_–
Alas, I don't own Kuroshitsuji.
I had not slept.
The bed was adequate, the room was warm, and my eyes were closed, but I was not graced with slumber. Instead, I patiently waited through the darkness. It was indeed a dull course of action, but it was the only course I had due to the fact that my room had been anonymously locked. I was trapped.
For most of night, I had thought of nothing. But in the few hours before sunrise I experienced a strange visualization. It was almost like a dream (though I distinctly remember being conscious). It had been triggered by observing the clock ticking in the far corner of the room. The swinging of the golden pendulum had reminded me of another pendulum I knew, and suddenly my head was alive with swaying silver chains and tarnished little hearts. The vision induced the feeling that I should be frightened, but I could not bring myself to feel so. Therefore, I closed my eyes and waited for the sickening swinging to stop.
At last, a hint of light peeked through the dark curtains. Impatient, I decided to sit up. My joints were stiff again, but I ignored them as I clumsily adjusted myself on the bed. The door had not been unlocked yet, or I would have heard the key. Therefore, instead of exiting the dreary quarters as I would have liked, I let my ankles cross daintily over the edge of the bed. I sat primly and waited to be released.
A flood of golden light had made its way halfway across the room when I heard the turning of a key. The door opened with a quick pop, and I caught a glimpse of red hair and a pair of big round spectacles before the owner of the items emitted a gasp and quickly disappeared again. My head clouded with irritation. Did she expect to find an empty room?
I then considered the fact that my torso was exposed and completely littered with bullet holes. I supposed it must have been a bit unpleasant to view, so I leisurely pulled the ripped blouse over the gore.
"Is she going to come in?" I spoke aloud, and the jittery thing came tripping through the door. Her eyes darted to my torso and to my face before coming to rest on the pile of green material shredded leisurely on the floor.
"Oh, yes, Miss, 'scuse me, Miss, I was just… oh… Oh! Erm, that was the master's mother's dress there, that was, Miss…"
Her hands raked through the green silk, and she stepped back as she found it was ruined.
"Oh! Erm, no matter, Miss, I'll clean that up for you, I will—and I'll dress yeh too in a moment, Miss."
I watched her flutter about, hurrying to dispose of the material and knocking over a pitcher of water in the process. I returned my gaze to the door as she worked, pleased to find it was now open. The hall was much brighter than it had been when I came. I was sick of the room. I wanted to leave.
"No, Miss! Not in yer unmentionables!"
I had reached the door, but was cut short of leaving by the fluttery maid. I didn't resist, although my instincts were to grab her around the neck. I let her lead me to the bed and cautiously replace my ripped blouse with a fresh one, avoiding contact with my wounds. The material was scratchy.
The clock ticking on the wall alerted me to the fact that an hour had passed. The maid had just finished suffocating me with layer upon layer of fabric, and my hair had been fussed with. She had even the nerve to paint my lips and cheeks with colour, at 'the request of Young Master, Miss'. She stood still for once, regarding her work. I dully observed the ticking of the clock.
"Now, Miss, please, this dress is also an heirloom of Young Master's mother, it is, try not to spoil it."
I took that as my right of passage, and started towards the hall.
The maid had grabbed my arm, but I continued to walk. I was sick of the disgusting room. I wanted freedom.
The voice was not that of the maid, but the velvety-familiar tone of the dark butler.
"Mey-Rin, please let go of our guest, thank you. Now, Miss Ann, I'm afraid you'll have to keep occupied in your bedchamber for today. I'd be happy to bring you anything you can wish for to ease your stay. And I assure you, tomorrow we will provide you with free access to anywhere on the grounds you would like to go, to make up for this unforgivable flaw in our hospitality. A fine breakfast is being brought up to you at this very moment."
Here the butler paused and eyed the maid, who gasped and bustled out the door to fetch the meal. He allowed her to pass, and I made a move to follow, but the butler darted to block me.
"I am terribly sorry, Miss. I truly am. But an order is an order."
I lifted my eyes to him innocently.
"Why will he not let me pass? I only wish to be free. This must be a house of savages, who know not how to treat a guest."
The butler bowed at my voice.
"My young master has a guest visiting for tea and luncheon today. We wish not to trouble you with the complications of tailoring to this particular guest's needs. You shall stay here, and your meal will be brought up shortly."
These last words were spoken with authority, and I let him leave without argument. I heard the lock click.
"This is an asylum," I mused dreamily. "They have brought me here to suffer. I will kill them all; soon… they will all be dead…"
I touched my hand to the door with the intention of knocking it down, but drew back and revised. The child in a lord's clothing posed no threat, and neither did the clumsy maid. But the butler seemed to radiate an aura of ominous power, and I was sure he was not to be tangled with. The noise from the door would send him running for me, and I would not be able to escape.
Irked, I ran my finger along the wall, scratching a deep mark into it. I needed to get out, but the only other means of leaving was the window. I could survive a three-story fall, but to slink about the grounds, peeking in windows, was disgraceful.
"I will leave here proudly."
My thoughts were interrupted by a click of a key as the timid maid, 'Mey-Rin', entered the room with my tray. Upon meeting my eyes she gave a start. The tray dropped towards the floor and hit with a rattling crash.
"Oh, no, Miss! God, I'm sorry! I'll clean it up!"
"I wonder when the scum will leave."
The red-head whimpered and bowed herself out of the room, leaving the mess. I observed it quietly. A croissant, two eggs, a slice of bacon, a sweet-dough pastry, and a jug of milk which had been turned over and was now seeping onto the floor. I leaned over to trace my finger in the liquid, when a notion presented itself to me. I fingered the polished fork and plucked it delicately from the mess. It would do nicely.
I quietly approached the door and listened for any disturbances, hearing none, I quietly reached to place the fork at the base of one of the hinges on the wall. With a quick application of pressure, the bolt was plucked from the hinge. I placed it quietly on the floor.
With this announcement, I began to work on the next one. With two quick pops, I had successfully unhinged the door. I crushed my fingers into the tight space between it and the frame and slowly opened it as the metal lock bent.
"I am out."
To avoid suspicion, I slowly pulled the door back into its place.
"And I am free."
The gray little boy was drowsily stirring his tea as the girl opposite him chatted happily. It was as if every visit his fiancé paid got chattier and chattier. The bright side to her constant chatter was that she never seemed to stop for breath, and he had to make no effort to give any input.
The two were sitting comfortably at the boy's polished dining table. It was quite early for a visit, and the boy had been working late into the night, which made her presence a tad bit more irksome than usual. Nevertheless, he kept silent as she spoke, and he went on stirring his tea.
At one point in the golden-haired girl's monologue, she paused to drink some tea. The boy gave a start and stopped stirring long enough to take a sip of his own Earl Grey, only to find it ice cold. Disgusted, he set the cup on the table and lifted his eyes to meet hers—except she was too busy talking to one of the servants about her tea to notice.
So the gray boy sank back in his chair, rested his head in his palm, and went about stirring more sugar into his beverage.
The girl chatted on.
And then the boy noticed it. The girl wouldn't, of course, her back was to the door, and she carried along without worries. The boy, however, kept his eyes fixed on the threat, heart gone cold.
There was a hand in the doorway.
The hand was clinging onto the frame of the doorway, stiff and resolved. The boy was quite sure he knew who it belonged to. The hand was white, very white, so white and colourless he could narrow it down to two people. And his butler certainly didn't have the gall to cling onto door frames. That meant—
It must be the girl.
The white, colourless girl with dead eyes and dusty hair who was supposed to be locked away in her chamber. What had Sebastian done? He was under specific instructions—!
Feeling his stomach lurch, he focused all attention on his twittering fiancé. The dusty girl mustn't come any further. What would his fiancé say about the dusty girl's ratty appearance or strange mannerisms? How was he supposed to explain a top secret case from the Queen? And how would the Queen react if she discovered her case had been leaked? The boy knew his fiancé, and his fiancé would not keep a secret. For long, anyway.
The boy glanced back at the door and felt a pang of real, detestable fear as his blue eye came in contact with a brown one. She was peeking out of the darkness at them, her big, dead brown eye unmoving and studying the two at the table. The boy inched back in his seat and silently begged his butler would come and the dust girl would go away.
"So then they tried to fit me into a purple dress…"
His fiancé hadn't noticed. She was still smacking away, sipping tea and enjoying herself immensely. Determined not to be surprised again, the boy returned his gaze to the door and jumped. The dust girl was standing, perfectly framed in the doorway. She gazed at the table curiously.
The fiancé had noticed his jump and trailed off in her speech. Following his gaze, she slowly turned around and jumped herself. The dust girl, having full attention now, stepped forwards into the light.
At first, the boy was in awe. His maid had cleaned the girl up nicely. She wore his mother's red-striped dress. The collar was high, which made her long neck look, well, normal… or maybe even appealing. Her yellow hair had been pinned high. The results of this change meant she looked much less like an animal, and a little bit more like a princess. And as consequence of his order, her lips and cheeks had been tinted. It provided the most drastic improvement. She was no longer colourless. She was fresh, alive, and now that they saw her in her fullest glory, beautiful.
The eyes hadn't changed though. They were what tugged the boy back into the reality of the situation. His guest was in complete shock.
At once the butler was at his side.
"Master—I apologize—I had no idea—"
"No need for that now. Show her back to her room, and bring me fresh tea."
The butler made a move for the quiet intruder, but was interrupted by a hysterical cry.
"She lives here?!" The green-eyed fiancé asks.
"No—well, yes at the moment—"
The gray little boy almost gasped aloud as she realized what it looked like to his dainty little guest. He was hiding a girl, a particularly pretty young girl in a fine dress, in the upstairs chambers. What had he done?
"The pitiful thing shrieks. Make it stop."
The room went silent. The murmur had been low and barely audible, yet it seemed to reverberate about the parlour. The boy stared at the intruder, stomach sinking and feeling sick as he realized what a terrible breach in etiquette the dust girl had made. How dare she?!
And then, tears were welling up in the fiancé's green eyes and she was dashing out of the room. Sobbing. The boy was following her, hate welling in his chest as he glared at the dead-eyed girl.
"Sebastian, take her up to her room and serve her lunch. I plan to speak with her later."
The imbeciles housing me were indignant. I could not understand why. I had said nothing wrong…
I couldn't bring myself to care though. I was served lunch and moved to a room on the second floor as the previous room had a door that needed to be fixed. The new room provided new interest, but I knew it was to become my prison cell and I would eventually grow tired of it.
I was sitting near the window, gazing at the fine lunch they had offered me. Glancing back outside, I watched the 'young master' dash across the lawn towards his love.
"How childish he looks…"
"Lizzy, what on earth are you doing in the flower bed? It's most unsightly."
The child had found his guest, a weak little thing she was, crying in the dirt beneath my window. I had been watching her for some time now as a search party had been conducted in other areas.
"Lizzy, stop crying, you—"
"Oh, because I'm a 'pitiable little thing'!" she cried.
"Lizzy, listen, that girl—"
"What is that girl doing, living in your house, anyway!? Why didn't you tell me, Ciel!? She's pretty… or perhaps you didn't notice!"
"Lizzy, shh, please, listen… she's here on orders from the Queen. It's top secret, you mustn't tell anyone…"
"Oh that's why she's here!"
"Do you think I'm lying?"
The guest was silent. From above, I could tell she was calculating. The young master seemed to be calculating as well.
"Lizzy, I lov—I love you. Nobody else."
Again, all was quiet, excepting the birds twittering in the trees. Suddenly, with a blast of annoyingness that wafted past my window, the girl squealed and leaped upon the boy.
"Oh, Ciel! I knew, I just knew! I can't believe you said it!"
"O-of course, er..."
The girl was a squealing mess. I looked away from the window, almost sickened, and almost feeling sorry for the boy in the flower bed below.