Vir Fortis vs Malificus

Reese's Day

I wondered what I should do. 

Chaser had already left, ready to go on heroic adventures and rescues. I always got up at five in the morning and Chaser, though he varied greatly, generally woke up half past six. We would breakfast together, and then I would go outside. It was when I was outside, about seven o'clock, that Chaser would go off. At eight o'clock, I came inside and looked around. 

I could never be a hero like Chaser. I didn't have a fraction of his power or a drop of his kindness or an iota of his righteousness, but he was inspirational to me. How his life revolved around helping others! How much he dedicated himself to delivering the sword of justice and the kiss of mercy! I admired him and his devotion to morality, so I had resolved to myself that I would be like him the best I could be. With what little I had to offer, I would give to be a hero. Even though nobody knew my name, even though my emotions and actions impacted no one, I could be a hero to Chaser. A hero to the hero! 

First, I went over to the sink and washed the dirty dishes, letting water run over my hands as I cleaned the plates, forks, and glasses with soap and water. 

I was a little nauseous because I had pizza for dinner, which normally didn't make me feel too well in my sensitive stomach. But of course, I didn't tell that to Chaser. After all, I had made it specially for him. Thinking of Chaser reminded me about how bitter I was that Chaser didn't ask me how my day was. True, it was probably boring compared to his, but it would have been nice if he had at least asked. 

Once I was done with the dishes, I wandered a bit, looking for something "heroic" to do. Too restless to sit down and read, I paced around the house. I made sure most of the lights were off. Chaser told me to keep it dark and quiet to act like nobody was home. He said he didn't want any neighbors or criminals to get attracted to the attention. A small part of me feared that, if they saw that it was dark and quiet, they would be more tempted, thinking nobody was home and try to invade. After all, it was easier to thieve from a house with nobody in it rather than thieving from a house which you knew somebody was in it. But I never said any of this because Chaser was smarter and better than me. He was a hero, and I was just an unknown nobody. 

For some reason, my thoughts switched to Usko. I couldn't believe Chaser treated him so casually. He sounded extremely dangerous, and I had never seen him as anything but evil. How could Chaser let him live and do whatever he wanted? Why not kill him, or at least capture him? I didn't understand, and I was annoyed that Chaser was always acting all vague about it. 

If I were a hero as grand as Chaser, I would kill Usko if it meant saving lives, I decided. 

Shame flashed in me when I recalled Chaser asking me what the dinner side dish was. Even though he was cool with it, I still felt useless, because I stayed at home all the time and still didn't put myself to good use comparatively. But along with this guilt I felt a resentment that I was reduced, only because of my mental and physical health, to being his maid, his servant. Didn't he care how I felt? Didn't he know how bored and restless and lonely I got sometimes, even scared? 

The greatest bitterness is bred when there is comparison. 

Why am I so bitter lately? I used to be completely okay with Chaser doing his own stuff, me doing mine. Maybe it was because I'm older. Well, I'm a growing kid. I'm almost the same age as he is, and if he had excitement that was tenfold to me, didn't I deserve at least a quarter of his exhilaration? He should give me more stuff to do, I sulked. Then I sighed, raking my hand through my hair, realizing I was being childish and unreasonable. I should be grateful to have food and water, a roof over my head, and someone who cared about me. 

But does he really...? 

I pushed that unpleasant thought from my head and looked for a book to read. I've read them all about a million times. I searched, picking up a few, reading a couple of lines before putting them back down. When I picked up the sixth book, I stopped and looked at the cover.