"Hey."
Sires lifted his eyes. It was that evening, and Matt had come to join him for dinner. As always, Sires had sat away from most everyone. Matt usually joined him, not minding the seclusion.
Sires grunted in acknowledgment as Matt sat across from him. Matt looked around himself, then leaned forward and spoke in a hushed voice.
"Everyone's talking about you, you know."
Sires lifted his dark eyes once more. "Oh?"
"They say you beheaded Aaron."
Sires snorted, taking up his fork and shoving food into his mouth.
Matt raised his eyebrows. "Well did you?"
Calmly, Sires put down his silverware. Matt waited patiently as Sires finished chewing, swallowed, and then drank some water. Once done, he wiped off his mouth and looked seriously at Matt.
"What do you think?"
Matt visibly shuddered. "Why?"
Sires chuckled, shook his head, and went back to eating. When Matt realized Sires didn't plan on continuing the conversation, he sighed, took up his own silverware, and began to eat along with Sires. Half the meal passed like this.
"Are you alright?"
Sires paused from cutting up the last bit of steak, glancing up at Matt. Matt had finished his food, and Sires vaguely wondered how long the young man had been watching him for. Blinking, Sires looked back at his nearly empty plate. "What do you mean?"
"You're...different. Not like when I first met you."
Sires gave another noncomental snort.
Matt frowned. "I just wanted to know if you're okay."
Unexpectedly, Sires slammed his fork down. Matt jumped, and Sires slowly rose to his feet. Matt looked petrified when Sires needed to get unhinged laughter under control. Some fellow students briefly looked over before ducking their heads in whispers.
"Am I okay?" Sires asked, corners of his mouth twitching as he suppressed laughter. "Am I okay? I watched my entire family be violently murdered in front of my eyes when I was nine years old. Then, out of the kindness of their heart, an elderly couple took me in and raised me as their own."
Matt began to shrink away as Sire's voice grew louder and louder. As Sires continued, people at different tables stopped eating and openly stared at the scene playing out before them.
Sires laughed. "That stability didn't last long, because then I was kidnapped and brought here, where I was told my father used to be an assassin, and the reason he, my mother, and my sister were slaughtered before my eyes was because of his past."
Sires slammed his hands down on the table so hard his palms stung. Matt now looked petrified, leaning as far back in his seat without toppling out of it. As Sires continued, he was shouting now.
"Evidently my father was X's favorite, something everyone here apparently knew besides me! They knew right out of the gate I'd be treated differently, and they were jealous which made everyone bully me."
Sires cackled, spittle flying out of his mouth. "Because, you know, my lot in life hasn't been hard enough, right? Then I have to be the butt of a joke I didn't even know the punch line to!"
Matt blinked as Sires began to shout. "Oh, and lets not forget how X, the leader of this God forsaken Hell hole, makes me his pleasure thing. All of this happened to me, and I haven't had a say in any of it, ever."
The entire cafeteria had gone silent, all eyes on the raving young man. The last words Sires spoke were screamed at the top of his voice.
"How is any of that okay, Matt?"
For seconds on end, the only sound anyone heard was Sires' panting. Sires pushed off the table to stand upright, and Matt recoiled further. Glaring at everyone, Sires spun in a slow circle. He didn't even have to say anything as several of students looked at him in utter terror. Then he walked out of the lunchroom, the silence following him in his wake.
As Sires stalked back to the bunks, he tried to ignore the fact that the English had tumbled out of his mouth easily, thanks to the voice in his head that had been speaking simultaneously.
~
The ceiling above Sires was surprisingly dirty. For how often the students were tasked with whitewashing the walls, it didn't appear like they ever bothered with the ceiling. Brown circular stains bloomed everywhere. Sires couldn't help but wonder, was there mold up there? He counted all the cracks in the ceiling; twenty-two in all. Would the ceiling come crashing down one day while he and his peers slept? Or were the cracks simply superficial, paint peeling?
It was the middle of the day, the sleeping quarters void save for Sires. He had been given the week off after he had slaughtered Aaron. Sires originally hated the free time; his adoptive parents were hard workers, and he took pride in the solid work ethic they instilled within him.
Yet this was now nearing the end of the second week, and Sires still refused to leave his cot. He barely even got up to eat, only doing so when his stomach pains got too intense. The Compound rules stated you weren't allowed in the barracks between classes. If you were sick you were expected to spend your time in the infirmary, sent back to your barracks after classes ended for the day.
Sires scowled thinking about this rule. Just another testament to how "special" he was in X's eyes. Rules were meant to be broken if it came to Sires. No one else would have been given a week off had they killed someone. To compound the problem, Sires wasn't the only one who noticed the differential treatment. Everyone knew it. Sires would have loved nothing more than to avoid the unwanted attention from X, the attention everyone seemed to be so jealous of. But it was inescapable; X was inescapable.
Sires hated it. He hated where his life had taken him. For the first time, Sires was met with feelings he could only peg as depression. He had always more or less accepted his situation in life, trying to be realistic about things. But now, lying in bed for nearly two weeks? The disdain of everything had become nearly too much to bear.
Sires had picked over his situation long and hard, and had come to a conclusion; everything he didn't like about The Compound always circled back around to X. Yes, Sires was often bored during classes (which made the disdain from his peers grow towards him as he accelerated academically). And of course Sires could have done without the taunting and bullying. And yes, the daily physical training was hard.
Yet the only time Sires ever truly felt bothered was when the leader of The Compound was involved. X gave him the creeps. Every time X was mentioned, every time Sires had the perchance of passing him in the hall, a shiver hit his spine and a headache pounded at the back of his eyes. He hated X, and that was the worst of all; Sires could not escape him.
Then do something about it, the voice in his head taunted him.
"I hate you, too," Sires stated out loud.
That's a little harsh. That's mean. You've hurt my feelings.
"Feelings? How can you have feelings? You're me."
Am I?
"Are you what?"
Laughter rang out inside his head.
Sires scowled more. "Of course you are."
The voice in his head was suddenly quiet.
"May I come in?" a new voice said.
Sires looked down the empty row of beds towards the door, though he didn't need to. No one else in the facility had such a strong British accent. There were a few who held a Cockney accent, and a few who were from New Zealand, but this was London English. This was snotty, pretentious English.
Sires rolled over on his cot, back to the room, cradling his katana. X's footsteps sounded like small bombs, echoing off the walls that had seen God only knew what over the years. Finally X was at Sire's cot, and he sat without asking.
"You're not supposed to have weapons in the commons," X said quietly.
"Oh, so you're going to take that from me now, too?" Sires spat, speaking in Icelandic out of spite.
Just kill him. Send his dirty soul to Hell. They'd love him there, the voice whispered.
"No, no, it's fine," X said. "I have no reason to believe you would attack any of your boarding mates." When Sires said nothing in response, X continued. "I assume that's the katana I was informed went missing?"
"Of course it is."
"English, Sires, English."
"It wasn't hard to swipe," Sires said impertinently in English. "You should have better security on the weapons closet, X."
"Most students aren't stupid enough to break into it."
A small pause.
"Why haven't you gone to any of your classes the past week, Sires?"
Should we give him the list, or just the top twenty?
Sires shut his eyes, taking a deep breath. Calmly, speaking clearly in English, he responded.
"I can't be your apprentice X."
X had approached him the previous week about it. He had come to Sires in the barracks the night he had killed Aaron, informing him he was going to start studying directly under him in two weeks' time. Since the news, Sires hadn't left his cot.
"Why?" X sounded genuinely surprised.
Sires put his sword on the ground and then sat up. He hadn't tied back his hair in days, and it was a greasy mess. He looked at X evenly. "Somehow I think we both know there's more to it than just me being your apprentice."
For a moment X looked at the blanket that sat on the cot. Then he stood and looked at his feet.
"You don't really have a say in the matter, Sires. Got it? And you are expected to go back to your classes tomorrow."
X turned to walk away but then seemed to think better of it. He turned on his heel stiffly. Leaning forward on the cot, all his weight on his right arm, he gave Sires a menacing look that chilled Sires to the core. Their noses nearly touched.
"I have been very lenient with you, Sires, and I am beginning to feel as though you're taking advantage of my kindness. Show up for classes tomorrow, or face the consequences." X narrowed his eyes, whispering the last words. "And trust me, you wouldn't like my consequences."
Sires wanted to say something but he found he couldn't. He settled for nodding instead.
"Good." X began to walk away.
"What about the sword?"
X stopped walking for a moment. "I assume you took it for self-defense. Keep it."
As X left, Sires laid back down. His arm slipped off the cot, fingertips brushing back and forth against the cold metal of his sharpened sword blade.