Dangerous

The first thing Lucien told me as we got out of the carriage was about the girl. And, more or less, about how dangerous she was. “Henry,” he had said, holding his hand out, so I could assist him in getting out. I pulled him to the ground, his feet dug into the dirt of the road. “This girl, she has killed two people — her parents. We must be careful.” He paused, narrowing his icy blue eyes at me. “You must be careful.”

I nodded, “Of course, sir.” He gave me a slight nod with a grunt. Today, his hair was parted, his pale blond bangs hung over his face — almost covering his eye brows. He wore a black button-down coat that hung down his waist. A loose white shirt with a collar was seen under it. Navy jeans and black boots, complimented the full outfit nicely. I had chosen it out myself, of course. Only the best for my master.

We walked down the path leading to the house. It was old; very old. Paint was peeling off; underneath, it was black, as if the house has been burnt by a fire once. Windows were cracked, some broken. The roof had a large hole at the top — it was obvious that it was started to give in.

Lucien stepped to the front, and knocked twice on the door. He waited. Silence. A glanced back at me, “Henry, only show kindness. If we need to, we will be forceful. But not at first.” He looked back at the door.

“Yes, sir.” I replied. Something tugged at my mind, though: a question. I pursed my lips in hesitation, “But, sir,” I started. His eyes flickered back to me, a brow was raised.

“Yes?” His lips barely moved.

“Why must we fake who we are? If we are going to talk to her, why should we lie about–” He held his hand up, signaling me to stop. Black gloves covered his long fingers. A small blue ring shined on his pinky.

“That is just how we are going to do it, Henry. Understand?” His voice became bitter. I nodded. He snapped his head back to the door. He knocked again; harder. It sounded like he was going to break the door. My hand shot to his arm, but I pulled it back quickly, before he could notice. A butler was not to stop his master in his actions.

Finally, the door creaked open. A pair of brown eyes was seen in the darkness. She pulled the door entirely open when she saw our faces. A petite girl. Her height only stood to my chest, and Lucien’s shoulders. She had messy brown hair that went down her back. She wore a black dress that was torn at it’s skirt and had many holes. Her arms were wrapped around with a gray shawl, that was also ripped in places. She was dressed like an old woman, I thought. An old, and very much poor woman. Her eyes were wide; scared. “Sir,” she bowed her head. When she looked up, she didn’t meet our eyes.

Lucien tilted his head, “May we come in, or–”

She flung the door open, it slammed against the wall. “Y-yes.” She stuttered. We walked inside. I wasn’t surprised to see the inside of the house wasn’t any different from it’s outside. It could even be considered worse. Splotches were black and darkened all over the flowery wallpaper — that was also starting to fall off; as the paint was outside. The dining table was missing a leg, slated at one end. Pictures were scattered over the walls, most had broken frames. One, particularly, stood out to me. I went towards it. A picture of the girl and her family; they all smiled brightly. Her mother was almost a splitting image of her, and her father was a handsome man. He looked like someone of wealth. I glanced around the room. So, why, why does her house look like this?

I felt something being draped on my arm. I looked over to see Lucien was placing his coat. “If this gets stained, I will require a new one.” He told me. I nodded. His eyes went to the painting, “And Henry,”

“Yes?”

“Stop staring at the paintings.” He followed the girl into another room. I sighed and placed the coat on the coat hanger by the door. It was leaning against the door frame, because — not to any surprise — it was too, broken. Then, I went to the room. I inferred it was the living room, but I wasn’t quite sure. There was a torn couch and a small table in front of it. The rest of the room was occupied by dolls. Tons and tons, of dolls. Broken and nice; ugly and beautiful. Some couldn’t even be considered dolls, for they were only hands and legs of ones.

I swallowed and walked into the room. Lucien had his legs already propped on the table, as he slouched on the couch. The girl was sitting on the ground at the other side of the table. She stared down at it, as if it was the most interesting thing in the world. They both looked at me as I came in. Lucien gave me a complaining glare that could’ve only said: what took you so long? The small girl’s eyes shot away the moment I glanced to her.

“Lucien,” I sighed. “Give the poor lady a place to sit.” He gave me a fixed stare, but slide over a few inches without a word. “Miss,” I motioned for her to sit down.

She shook her head, “No, no. You’re the guests. Please sit down, rather than me. I don’t mind sitting here…”

“See?” Lucien said. “She doesn’t want to sit here.” I looked back to her, she shook her head again.

“Really, you should–” I continued.

“No, you sit, sir.” Her eyes looked at everything but me. It stayed on the couch for a few moments before moving on.

“But–”

“She’s telling you to sit,” Lucien grumbled. He clearly was frustrated. His cheeks were pink was annoyance. “Sit.” I sighed and did as I was told.

We sat in silence for a few minutes. I wanted to ask about the dolls, but kept my mouth closed. I wasn’t to speak first without permission. That would be rude.

“So, Michelle,” Lucien finally said. The way he said her name made it sound like a disease. She flinched. I noticed it was the first time he had spoken her name. She was always ‘the girl’ to him. “I’ve heard many rumors about you. Many horrid rumors, might I say.” Her fingers gripped her skirt highly. They started to turn white. Lucien smiled at her hesitation. “Do you have anything to say about this? Did you really do what they say?”

She was silent. I was sitting at the edge of the couch. Ready. The girl — Michelle — was struggling for words. Sweat started to bead down her face. She was biting down on her cheek. Lucien was being as he always was. But, still, it was cruel. To make a girl suffer like this. I glanced at him. He looked as if he was having the time of his life. “Michelle…” he said. His voice was light.

“Michelle,” he repeated. Her head was now bent over, her brows furrowed. Tears were filling her eyes. She was holding it all in. “You look as if you have something to say. What is it? Hm?” She bit down at her lip to make it stop moving.

“I…” She whispered. “I…I–” Her eyes were searching rapidly for something. Something to look at.

Lucien laughed. “‘I’, what? Speak up, girl!” She started to whimper. My shoulders were tense. I looked back and forth between them. I could stop him…I could…

But I won’t. Not yet.

“Michelle, Michelle,” Lucien sang. “What an ugly name.” Her eyes widened more than they already were. I held in a breath. That comment was like poison to her veins. She started to shake.

“S-stop…” Her voice was barely there. Tears streaked her cheeks. “Stop! Please…”

“Just tell me what happened.” Lucien replied. He had his eyes narrowed at her. A hand was resting against his cheek, his head oh-so-slightly tilted. He was watching her in enjoyment.

“I-I don’t know…” She finally said. “I don’t know. Please leave me alone.” Her eyes met his for a moment. They were desperate and pleading. She jerked her head away.

“You’re lying,” Lucien spat. She drew back. Her face was painted with fear and pain. It was swollen from tears. She shook as if she was cold, her lips trembled. “You know perfectly well! You know–” He exclaimed. I grabbed his arm, he froze.

“Lucien,” I said calmly. “It’s time to go.” His face changed into a mere glare. It wasn’t the face he was showing to Michelle that made her shake in fear. It was only the face of a rich and spoiled brat.

He pulled it away, “Don’t touch me without my permission.”

“Of course, sir.” I stood up with him and bowed to Michelle. “I’m sorry for the trouble.” She nodded slowly, but was still shaken up from Lucien. Her eyes were wide. She let out slow breaths.

“Just…just go.” She whispered.

I met her eyes, “Will do, miss.” I smiled. Her face softened for a moment, only to go back to fear when Lucien approached her.

“We’ll be back,” he told her. She held a hand to her face, as if it could protect her. I followed behind him, putting the coat back on his shoulders. I led him out the door, looking behind at her.

“Good day,” I said. She only stared, her lips pressed. I closed the door.

As I helped Lucien into the carriage, I noticed he was grinning. “That was fun.” He said.

“Yes, it was.” I replied, sourly. But he didn’t seem to noticed.

“Girls like that,” he continued. “They make me sick. You just blow on them and they fall over.”