𝐓.𝐇.𝐄

𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝟐𝟗

Jonathan's words press into my mind repetitively. What did he mean by that? Does he know things that we don't know? Unfortunately, I had to run upstairs, afraid someone would have noticed my presence or absence from upstairs.

I decide to switch my focus on the snowman biscuits, since time is flying and I want to have a good and relaxing Christmas evening all by myself. 

As I dispose all the ingredients needed on the kitchen, a deep and low voice paralyzes my movements  all of a sudden. "Where have you been."

I keep my eyes fixed to what is in front of me, frozen and shaken. This voice is very familiar to my ears, but never I have heard it sound this weak. 

"Uh- I've just-" I take a deep breath, recomposing myself, "I've been to the kitchen downstairs to grab an ingredient." I swallow deeply, and close my fist, anxious.

"Do never give your back to me." Now his tone swifts aggressively.

I turn around with no second thoughts, pressing my jaw tightly. As my eyes been his figure, my blood stops circulating through my veins. A pale, sweatening body stands inches distance from my small one. His white skin can be glimpsed through his transparent wet white shirt. As I move my eyes to his face, I find two black pupils stare at me emotionlessly. His dark hair is messy and sweaty, just like his body, as if he has just come back from a marathon. 

But I bet he went in black jeans. As I keep examining his body, I notice something I haven't caught sight of before: black lines cross his body as draws veins. However, they resemble nothing like veins. 

He seems to notice my curiousness, and hides his arms behind his back. "I apologize." I answer. 

He moves his gaze to the kitchen, analysing the products. "What are those for." His tone is still firm, but I can remark some curiousness in his eyes.

"The ingredients I need to prepare some snowman biscuits. Thought it might be great to eat something different on Christmas, especially alone." I give a little smile, hoping he will be clement.

At least on Christmas.

His faces features become softer, scathing away the angriness he was holding all this time.

"Alone?" The word comes out of his mouth almost as a whisper. 

For a moment, I hesitate replying. "Ehm, yes. I don't have any family member here." With sorrowness, I think about my parents and a long sigh comes from my dry mouth. 

Being alone is something I had to learn to live with, and it doesn't scare me anymore as it used to do. In loneliness I can be myself and nobody judges my spirit. 

His black gaze is on me for too long, and discomfort starts to invade the atmosphere. It is difficult to script what he is thinking. He knows how to hide his emotions very well. 

As long as he has some. 

"May I ask why you are not joining all members downstairs?" I dare to ask. 

He moves his paralysing gaze to the floor, "I don't celebrate."

"Oh!" I react, surprised by his answer. What does it mean he doesnt celebrate? Does he like to spend celebrations alone or does he not believe in them?

"I'm upstairs", he turns around towards the stairs, "If you.." he whispers too low for me to hear the whole sentence.

A part of me would like him to stay. To be able to say I wasn't alone this Christmas. But the other part is frightened he will ruin it. 

He gives me a last stare, before heading fatigued upstairs. 

                                                                                ***

The following hours haven't been as easy as I thought. I have always known I wasnt good at cooking, but didnt realise this much. All kitchen and myself included is covered in flour and dough.  

As I hear the oven alarm ringing, I stand up right away and take the biscuits out. Yes! I exclaim, happy they are not all burnt. 

I arrange all of them in the big round crystal dish and, as I leave them cooling, I start cleaning up the mess I have made. Thankfully, he is not downstairs. I bet he would have killed me for this. 

Now that he crosses my mind, his figure shows up in my mind. He looked so weak and fragile, with his pale white skin brightened from his sweat. Without mentioning those mysterious black lines on his body. What are they? I have never seen such things, and now Jonathan and Lucy's idea of sneaking in his personal objects is tormenting me. 

I deeply believe he hides things no one can ever imagine, but is it good to know them? 

I stop questioning myself as I finish to clean the last piece of the kitchen. Done. I remove my no more white uniform and I place it in the laundry room. 

The biscuits' smell are over all my body, but I dont mind. Much better than the cleaning products. 

I decide to take a shower. As I get to my room, a fresh air slaps me in the face. I remember closing the windows, I say to myself, doubtfully. I shiver as coldness get to my skin, and I close the windows right away. 

The view from my room is quite peaceful. Nature dominates around the whole Palace and naked trees make the view even more visible for me to notice the beautiful huge garden. It is astonishing and scaring how the Palace is completely isolated from the city. As though it was from another world. 

I have always asked myself if some normal person has ever crossed the streets to the Palace. If any normal human being like me has ever seen it. I would like to be in that normal persons shoes. I would like to be able to move anywhere whenever I want.

"Time passes too fast", I say to myself as I look at the clock. It is already seven o'clock in the evening. I better hurry. 

Once I have washed my body and hair, I envelope my body with the blue bathrobe and dry it quickly, for then reaching my wardrobe. 

As I open it, I find myself with nothing but white work uniforms. The only dress I have is the red long one, my mother left me before..

Before dying. 

I swollen deeply. Memories always have bad effects on me.

I grab the dress, and I can feel her smell trapped in the fabric. I smell it so deeply until it is consumed. "Oh, mama. I miss you so much." I cry.

Without wasting more time, I start dressing up. The soft textile falls on my body like a perfect piece of puzzle. Its length is incredibly perfect to my height. The waist stitching detaches the tight upper part from the large and delicate lower part, creating a small balloon form. 

As I finish, I move to the make-up part. I have never been passioned about wearing stuff on my face, but tonight I want to feel different. 

I want to feel special. 

I put some foundation and rose blush to make my cheeks more visible. I apply some mascara on my blonde lashes and, to finish, some red lipstick on my lips. 

"Wa là." I happily exclaim, staring at myself in the mirror. 

Never felt so confident in myself, and I have been missing this feeling. 

I apply some small vanilla perfume, for then heading downstairs to grab the biscuits. 

Once I step out my room, I feel something cold touching my feet. "My shoes!" My ignorance never surprises me. 

Quickly I grab my only black Vans, hoping they are not noticeable, and close the door.