He did not know his name.
He did not know his age.
He did not know his parents.
He assumed something must have happened to them. After all, no one came looking for him and it seemed like he was not missed at all.
He wondered if he could recognize them if he met them on the street.
He doubted it.
His past was dead to him now.
0o0
Chapter one: Prisoner
0o0
A young woman brought him food and water everyday. Her name was Hannah.
She had a kind face that was marred by an eye patch on her left eye. He noticed that she sometimes touched it, almost absentmindedly during one of their brief conversations. The medical patch fascinated him and he found himself convinced that he once knew somebody that used to wear it. He wondered how it felt to have half of your vision so brutally removed from you but surprisingly found the sensation familiar and comforting. However he was sure he never wore one. After all, both of his eyes worked perfectly fine.
The cell he was staying at was unnaturally clean and located somewhere underground. He could occasionally glimpse the rest of the floor whenever Hannah bathed him and was able to recognize rows and rows of wine bottles positioned strategically next to each other. It looked like a big house or a mansion of some kind.
He often asked Hannah about his reasons for being kept there but she never answered. Her eyes always glanced up at the ceiling and then back at him with an expression of a terrified animal that was afraid of disobeying its master. She had the mannerism of a servant and was always clothed in an extravagant maid uniform that seemed impractical and sometimes even painful to wear.
Time has stopped for him and he could not tell day from night. His imprisonment seemed to last forever but when he asked she said it was only a week and a half since he awakened. Logically there was no reason for him to believe her but he was enamoured with her gentle nature and would believe anything that came out of her mouth. He looked forward to her visits and always tried to make her talk as much as possible.
Her voice was quiet but he could understand each word she said perfectly, even at a distance. She had an air of a person that went through something horrible and he often fantasized about what could have happened to her whenever he was left alone in his cell. He wondered if the event was connected to her injured eye.
There were certain topics that Hannah obviously wanted to avoid each time he brought them up. She looked especially distressed when he asked about the owner of the house; she seemed to be scared of the head of the family and gave him the impression that fear was the general reaction of the servants when faced with the unknown master.
When he asked about the master she refused to answer. It was perhaps this that made him even more anxious.
The food that Hannah brought him everyday was of the highest quality. Freshly baked bread, meat covered with a rich tomato cream, gleaming fruit and expensive tea…He found himself recognizing the names of some of the French recipes and always quizzed his caretaker about the special tea blend.
She seemed surprised when he asked for cutlery at first. But as the days went by the setting of his small table became more and more sophisticated; the large bowl turned into several china plates with purple decorations, the spoon turned into three forks and four knives and the mug was replaced by an elegant looking tea set.
Hannah seemed to get some sort of an enjoyment from serving him his meal in such an extravagant manner and he embraced it, completely comfortable with the huge setting that led him to believe that he used to be from an upper class family. His straight posture and elegant handling of the cutlery came easy to him and Hannah seemed impressed by his good manners and actively encouraged them. She said that good manners were important for his role in the manor. When he asked what she meant by this the woman grew quiet again.
There were no mirrors in his cell and he had hard time imagining what his face looked like. Hannah often told him that he was a handsome boy and said he looked about twelve years old, however she couldn't be certain. He felt his face up whenever he was left on his own and it was always the same thing; two eyebrows, two eyes a nose a mouth…It was hard to imagine his features this way but he tried anyway.
He felt his teeth and discovered them to be in a perfect shape (this only supported his theory that he came from a rich family as teeth were an easy indicator of wealth status). His hair too seemed to be in an excellent condition after Hannah washed it and he marvelled at the dull grey colour it seemed to have. In the darkness of the cell it seemed almost blue.
He was always given the same clothes; a uniform of some sort that consisted of simple black pants and a formal white shirt that he always buttoned up to his neck. He found himself comfortable with being changed by another person and it was the same with bathing; the feel of another human being serving him in such an intimate manner felt familiar, natural even and he embraced it.
He could tell Hannah found his high-class mannerism unexpected and realized that she probably knew nothing about his former live or where he came from. They were both in the dark and this comforted him somewhat.
He wanted to trust her completely but something kept him back; a natural instinct of some sort. Despite his strange amnesia his previous life warned him against putting his trust into someone. Once again he was left to wonder about his past.
His lack of name made him more lost than anything else and one day he asked Hannah to name him. The one eyed woman looked at him with a strange expression and answered
"I'm not allowed. Once you are introduced to the master he would decide a name for you."
He immediately rebelled against the idea and stood up from his chair, enraged. Named by the tyrant of the house? Impossible!
"No! If you refuse to do it I would name myself! I don't need anyone's permission."
She blinked at his anger, no doubt surprised by her normally quite agreeable prisoner. He suddenly grew afraid that he scared her off; Hannah always seemed to him to be a very fragile creature. However his pride forced him to keep glaring at her and he could not take his words back. It was during this moment that he realized he was an extremely proud individual.
But the maid only shook her head and apologized, her sad eye avoiding him as she exited the cell and disappeared behind the numerous wine shelves. He sat himself down and felt even more lost than before. The master of the house…would name him?
Perhaps it was a ritual in this place and Hannah was not Hannah's real name but something that was forced upon her by an over-controlling bitter old man. He had never seen the master but already hated him with passion. He already had his suspicious that Hannah was somehow hurt by him on regular basis.
His suspicion proved true when two days later she came down to the basement with a bandage wrapped around her slender throat. It was extremely noticeable and he asked about it right away.
"What happened to your neck?"
"I was punished." She replied in that quiet voice of hers. He blinked at her response in shock. Punished! And said in such a matter of fact tone!
"What did you do to deserve this?"
She avoided his eyes and he realized that she was not able to tell him. He changed the subject immediately and let her prepare the table for him.
The next day she came down wearing a more extravagant outfit than usual. He grew accustomed to her strange uniforms over the course of weeks; silly frills, lace and ribbons, sometimes short and sometimes long. However this was clearly a costume and he recognize her as being dressed like some sort of a bandit. She was wearing a black eye patch on her face and an extremely tight corset. What seemed like toy guns were hanging from her hips and her clothes were tattered and dirty on purpose leaving very little to imagination.
Baffled by this strange irregularity, he forgot to greet her, instead staring at the strange clothing. She explained herself almost right away.
"Master sometimes likes to play make believe with the servants and we are dressed this way for a whole day. We also sometimes put on a plays to entertain him."
He marvelled at the mentality of a man that regularly forces his servants to play pretend for him based on some strange fantasies. He looked away from Hannah's barely covered body to allow her some privacy, however she seemed completely unashamed of her state of dress and acted as if nothing was wrong.
"Is this a regular occurrence?"
He asked curiously and made way for the maid as she stepped inside the cell and started to prepare the table.
"It depends on the master's mood. He is….quite unpredictable."
He watched her silently as she prepared the plates and carefully brought the tea set from the large basket. Her movements were graceful and calming; he found himself relaxed observing the table setting ritual that became a routine over the past two weeks.
"When am I going to meet him?"
he asked, a question that he didn't want an answer to but at the same time needed to know. She stopped what she was doing and turned to face him. Her face looked determined and he had a feeling that whatever she was about to tell him would change everything.
Acting indifferent, he sat down behind the table and motioned for her to answer.
The woman opened her mouth.
"You will be presented to master Alois in two weeks and be given a name."
She opened her mouth as if to say more but unsure on how to phrase it. He found her words unusually formal but didn't dwell on it, instead distracted with the name she had never mentioned before.
"Alois?"
So, the master's name was Alois. Somehow this changed his perception of the man but only slightly. A tyrant that had a name was somewhat less scary that a nameless one. His pride forced his fears to be buried deep inside him and he tried to convince himself that he was not intimidated by the cruel master.
In front of him, Hannah softly touched her eye patch .
"It will be on master's birthday and you will be presented to him as a gift. You are kept here in secret to not…" she trailed of, considering her next words.
"…to not spoil the surprise."
"A gift?" he repeated with a hollow voice.
Heavy silence followed.
"Yes." She answered in the end.
He could tell that his stare was making her uneasy and she turned back to preparing the table, signalizing that the conversation was over.
For the first time since his awakening he seriously wondered about physically harming the woman to escape from the basement. He considered it for a while but dismissed the idea in the end; the timing wasn't right and he didn't have enough information about the rest of the mansion and the people that served there.
At least that's what he was telling himself. The truth was that he found himself extremely reluctant to harm Hannah. In his eyes, physically injuring her would be equivalent to Alois's harsh punishments and his pride would never allow him to be compared to the tyrant in such a way. Servants should be treated with respect.
He lifted the small tea cup and took a sip. Hannah's silence sounded almost grateful.