Well this is a re-write of one of my old fics. It will be dark, dramatic, and random and at times leave you pleasantly surprised. And don't let the title fool you this isn't about some cat made of bread… well, no spoilers!
~Breadcat~
'Twelve is Such an Awful Number'
A spray of light swept over my face signalling it was the start of a new day.
Fucking wonderful.
From my prison cell window I gazed out into the courtyard where the servants were out doing the gardening. I rose from my bed as ungracefully as I possibly could and jammed my pinky into my ear to remove some grime that had accumulated since I had last picked it, a rather pathetic form of rebellion since there was nobody around to scold me for my 'unladylike' behavior.
Without any real care for my appearance, I strode out onto my balcony in my sickeningly extravagant nightdress that a senior student would probably be proud to wear on her prom night – I decided to wipe my earwax on it – and leaned over the marble railing to marvel in disgusted awe at how pristine the front lawn looked.
My appearance on the balcony quickly drew the attention of the servants; I could see the disgust and resentment in their eyes, developed over years of harsh servitude to my family. I smiled at them like a smug warden who had just thrown a prisoner they disliked into solitary confinement, and I relished in their pent up hate. The reason? I hated myself just as much as they hated me. Whenever I see myself all dressed up like a medieval Princess in the mirror I have to force back the urge to vomit violently.
Whoever thinks money makes you happy should be shot repeatedly before being thrown off a cliff into vat of powerful acid. No offense.
I heard the echoes of my butler's feet as he marched up the spotless marble hallway, and its numerous perfectly sculpted granite statues (all of which had faces that would make excellent props for a horror film), it wouldn't surprise me if he was born with a stick up his ass the way he walks, the other thing that annoys me is his manners (like most Butlers) they are grotesquely divine, he's a man knows how to effectively kiss the ground after you've stepped in sh-… something unpleasant.
He pauses at my doorway and gives it a polite knock, calling my name a few times to alert me he was going to enter.
"Good morning young mistress!" He greets warmly, using one of his white-gloved fingers to curl his oily black moustache. "How are you feeling this morning?"
'Like a caged Mankey with bowel problems.' "Excellent, I love seeing the sun in the morning." I lied with the sweetest smile I could muster. "How are you…umm… Charles?"
"It's Jervis, actually…" He corrected, his perfect posture slumping slightly as if the mistake shattered his self-confidence.
Well I wasn't far off; Jervis would have been my third guess… Butlers all seem to have names like that anyways – my guess is they are all probably trained in some underground complex with 10 or so recycled names for efficiency. My current butler is probably 'Jervis Unit No. 237'.
The problem with my mother was she demanded perfection in every aspect of her pathetic existence. Very few could tolerate such pressure under her tyrannical reign, which ultimately resulted in many resignations and the occasional and cliché outburst of "I can't take this anymore!" usually throwing whatever is in their hands at something expensive before being dragged out of the property. Well guess what? I can't take that line anymore you overdramatic pricks, go cry to someone who actually cares.
I snapped out of my thoughts as Jervis continued to ramble about whom I was getting to eat with today. Would it be some overdressed businessman looking to establish a partnership, or perhaps it would be a foreign prince who will try to not-so-subtlety hint he would like my 12-year-old hand in marriage?
"The Madam has selected the clothes she would like you to wear today." Jervis finished, lightly placing the articles of clothing on a nearby chair, being careful not to crease them in the slightest way. He would probably hold a baby with less care than my clothing and it annoyed me almost as much as the fact that my beloved tyrant wanted to control me with a leash.
"You can tell my mother I can pick my own clothing, I'm not a baby." I spoke, managing to suppress an emotional outburst and stormed over to closet.
"But young mistress, your mother was insistent!" He shook slightly in his little gold-trimmed red jacket (with matching buttons) fearing the wrath of the wicked witch who gave him his paychecks.
"My mother doesn't 'insist' she 'demands'." I even did air quotation marks to further upset the trembling butler who knew that if I refused my mother's… compulsory suggestions he would be on the receiving end of the inevitable (verbal) asskicking. "Now, you can tell my mother I'm going to dinner in a dusty t-shirt and jeans, if she's unhappy she can send her attorneys like she always does when someone does her injustice."
Jervis nodded shakily as he retreated towards the door. "Anything else Madam?"
"Shave off your moustache it annoys me." I spat at him and allowed him to run off like Growlithe with its tail between its legs.
About ten minutes later there was a knock at my door. Probably my mother with her usual rant about how we need to keep up appearances. Problem was our family's appearance was, so high it would take a couple of skyscrapers supporting it to prevent it topping over and crushing hundreds of people under its frilly, diamond encrusted pom poms.
I was in for a nasty shock, instead of my mother, it was three serious looking men in suits, each with their own initialled suitcase filled with bundles of documents that probably had no use whatsoever apart from giving them a reason to carry their suitcases.
I poked my head out of the doorway to glare at the witch who had sent her minions after me. She was leaning against one of the marble walls, her head pointed upwards with a false feeling of pride and took a deep drag of her golden-laced cigarette.
"Attorneys?" I hissed in shock about the low blow. "You are throwing attorneys at me? !"
"As you said, you aren't a baby anymore, therefore I shall treat as an adult." She smiled like the devil himself after claiming yet another soul for her fiery abyss.
"You cannot be serious!" I shrieked. "What are you going to sue me for? ! Breathing? !"
"No." One of her lackies interrupted, pushing his glasses up the bridge of his nose with his free hand. "But we can demand repayments for the debts you have accumulated over the years."
I could not believe the farcity of the situation, she was going to charge me for the costs of nappies when I was only months old – and those would be expensive… she probably had those lined with gold as well.
"So what, you're going to charge me for all the excessive and wasteful things you have thrown at me over the years?" I narrowed my eyes at her. "And I assume the only way I'm going to get out of this is by diving to the floor and kissing your feet, whilst begging for forgiveness?"
She just took another drag of her cigarette. "Sounds good."
"What type of monster does that to her own child!" I was getting emotional now, and when I got emotional it usually ended badly for me. "Aren't all the diamonds and marble enough? ! Isn't all that fame, money and respect enough? !"
"Well, you do have considerable debts…" One of the Attorneys pointed out, running his finger down a sheet of paper.
"Fuck you!" I screamed. "Just fuck right off!"
My mother just chuckled.
I caught her eye and immediately realised she was serious about this, she wasn't joking around, she was seriously threatening to destroy me for sticking one toe out of line. And the scary thing was… it looked like she was enjoying it.
I stumbled back and pressed my back against the doorframe, hyperventilating as the reality came crashing down on me. She was tallying up my debts since the day I was born just so she could control me in the future.
"You can't…" I shook my head in disbelief my long messy hair spraying everywhere as the ribbon holding it came loose – I must have really looked like a dishevelled mess by now. "This is completely unethical! There must be some law against this!"
"Under Section 75668-" One attorney started reciting.
"Didn't I tell you to shut up? !" It was no good, my emotions broke through and tears started to run down my cheeks. I slumped to the ground defeated and broken, just like every other enemy of my mother's.
She bent down and brushed the brown locks away from my eyes and held my chin to face her. "You know I'm only doing this in your best interests you know?" She put up a faked smile and pretended to care. "You need to learn to obey your mother."
I broke her gaze and turned away.
She stood up beckoned her minions, all of them smirking triumphantly over defeating a young girl as they passed her, only attorneys get pleasure from warping reality to break people.
"I expect you to get dressed as I've ordered and be ready for dinner at six pm sharp. Your breakfast if waiting for you downstairs." She paused at the top of the winding stairway. "Oh… and happy birthday dear."
'You better pray to Arceus above that I don't get my hands on a gun, dear Mother.' I thought bitterly and allowed the tears to run freely.