Chapter 1

Mon Ami

Erik:

My life had always been lived in misery and I was quite accustomed to it. I had never known love. In fact, I didn't even know that it existed. I had been isolated from society like an animal held in captivity. My cage was the small, old house that existed in the middle of nowhere. The only neighbors I had were the woods and they were equally as dark and forbidding as my dreadful parents.

So when I heard our cousins were visiting I was eager to meet them, especially the one that was a few years younger than me. My parents also seemed excited which was peculiar. We had never had visitors and I thought they would loathe the idea. I wondered why they appeared this way, but I didn't dare ask why. The last thing I wanted was another beating or scolding, so I just stayed quiet and pondered about it to myself.

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

Raoul:

"Papa, why on Earth are you making us stay with them?" Philippe asked with irritation as we stood by the door to our Tante Stéphanie and Oncle Claude's house. It had a very rundown appearance from the outside; shingles were falling off of the roof and a window in the attic was broken. At the moment I agreed with Philippe's comment; it really didn't seem like an ideal place to stay. "You know what Maman always said about her sister! She always said she was evil!"

Papa only chuckled. "Don't listen to your mother. I'm sure you'll enjoy your stay with your aunt and uncle."

"Then why aren't you staying?"

"I'm going away for the week. Just a small trip. I need some time alone." He had always needed "time alone" ever since I was born. Philippe blamed it on my mother's death and the hole that had been created in his heart from it.

Philippe quickly rolled his eyes as Papa picked me up in his arms. "And your aunt and uncle have a little boy just around your age. His name is Erik." I smiled brightly at him just as the door opened abruptly. A beautiful woman and handsome man were standing in front of us; Stéphanie and Claude. Stéphanie was wearing a beautiful, flowing white dress. Her ears were decorated with pearl earrings and a pearl necklace was hanging around her neck. Her blue eyes sparkled at us and her blonde hair was tied up in a perfectly neat bun. Claude also looked very sophisticated in his black overcoat with gold cuffs. His hair and eyes were much darker than my aunt's and were almost as dark as night. They didn't seem to belong in this old, shabby home.

It was the boy who came running up behind them that did. His clothes were torn and ripped. His white shirt and black pants looked as though they were ten years old, even older than the boy. The clothes were nothing compared to his face, though. It was completely distorted and revolting. I could hardly bare to look at it, but I did so out of politeness.

"Bonjour," the boy greeted us in a quiet, quivering voice. The moment our aunt and uncle noticed him, though, they began shouting at him. "Erik, you disgrace, get away!" Stéphanie screamed. Tears came to his eyes just before his father joined in. "Get your mask on! Do you think our guests want to stare at that face of yours?"

Erik nodded and ran back into the house. Philippe and Papa could only stare at Stéphanie and Claude in shock. "Don't worry about him," Claude assured us. "Come in and sit down. We'll make some tea."

"That sounds great, but only for a few minutes," Papa replied as we walked into the house a bit suspiciously.

- - - - - - - - - - -

Erik:

As I lay on the lumpy mattress in my bedroom (the attic) I listened to the laughter from downstairs. So Papa and Maman did like our relatives? They did like to do other things than torment me and yell? I wished that they were staying longer than a week so they wouldn't bother me. But it was just another one of those fantasies like running into the woods and living there. It would never happen and I wouldn't really want it to. The cold breeze was coming through the broken window and I knew I would never want to be living outside in it. For now I was stuck with Maman and Papa.

Before long I heard a knock at the door, but it wasn't the usual loud, obnoxious knock followed by yelling and screaming. It was short and quiet followed by a question; "Can we come in?"

"Oui," I replied. The door opened and I saw two boys walk in. One looked younger than me, maybe four or five and the other looked much older. He probably wasn't a boy at all and in his mid-twenties. I was sure they were my cousins. They looked like brothers, both with dirty-blonde hair and blue eyes.

"Bonjour, Erik," the older one greeted me. "My name is Philippe and this is my little brother Raoul. We're going to be staying here for the next week." They both walked in and came over to my bed. I stood up with a puzzled expression. No one had ever wanted to be near me, but here were two people who did. "Why do you want to be up here?" I asked. "No one ever wants to be with me."

"Why? Just because of your face?" Philippe asked.

"Oui. It's gross, isn't it? It's awful."

"It isn't that bad," Raoul told me with a smile. No one had ever smiled at me, either.

"That's good to know." I paused for a moment. "You're the only people I've ever met besides my Maman and Papa."

Philippe and Raoul seemed shocked. "Really?" the little one asked.

"They keep me locked away in this house, mostly up here. They don't ever leave, either. Just once or twice a year. I'm a disgrace to them."

"That's awful!" Philippe exclaimed in horror. "I can't believe they would actually do that. Maman was right and I'll make sure Papa knows. But hopefully you like us because we're going to be here for a bit."

"I wish you could stay longer," I told him a bit despairingly. "I wish I could live with you."

"Maybe we can visit more often," Raoul suggested.

"Maybe," Philippe agreed just before we heard their father. "Philippe, Raoul, I'm leaving!"

"We have to go," Raoul told me. "I want to say goodbye to Papa, but we'll come back."

"Alright," I replied as the two left and I began to realize that they're father actually . . . liked them. No, loved them.

That word now had a meaning.

- - - - - - - - - - - - -

Raoul:

When Papa left, Stéphanie began doting on Philippe as if he was the most perfect person in the world. She went over and wrapped her arms around him. "Oh, Philippe! It's so good to finally meet such a wonderful man like yourself! Now go upstairs with Claude. He'll show you your room." Philippe picked his suitcase off of the ground and followed Claude up the set of stairs next to the cream-colored sofa. Surprisingly the inside of the rundown looking house was very elegant. There was a lot of beautiful furniture, stunning carpets, and delicate paintings on the walls.

Once Philippe was out of sight, I asked Stéphanie, "Where is my room, Tante Stéphanie?" Yet the moment I asked this, she glared at me as if I had just killed someone. She walked over to me and took hold of the collar of my shirt. "What did you ask?"

"Where my room was," I replied quietly.

"Do you think you really deserve a bed to sleep in, you wretch?" I didn't respond for a moment, too afraid to speak but I only was scolded again. "Answer me!"

"Oui," I said even quieter.

"Of course not! Do you even realize that you're the reason your mother is dead? Does that even make you think that you're a wretch? It should! You don't deserve anything not even life!"

"Don't hurt me!" I exclaimed as I began to cry. "Please don't hurt me!"

"Yet I will. Life isn't fair, is it?"

"My Papa never does this to me!"

"Your Papa doesn't understand this because you're his son. He thinks you're precious when you're actually a bastard. He should have just killed you, but I'll do it instead."

The words from her mouth petrified me. The last thing I wanted was to die!

"Philippe! Philippe!" I began screaming, but Stéphanie placed her hand around my mouth so I could only grunt. "Your brother isn't going to help you," she informed me.

Despite her statement, though, I soon heard Philippe clattering down the stairs followed by Claude. Both of them were screaming at each other simultaneously, Claude with a knife in his hand. "Get back here! You're not going to save your brother! I'll kill you before you do that!" Claude screeched.

"I'm not letting him die, you maniac! You're not going to kill him!" Philippe yelled back at him just as Claude tackled him onto the ground, holding the knife up to his throat. "Don't move!" he ordered and Philippe did so as he watched me with tears in his eyes.

"You know you're not going to get anything that you expected. You won't have a bed, food, warmth, or anything else you're so accustomed to! You're going to live a week in the basement and you're going to starve. I'm not going to feed you and you won't see a morsel of food until your father gets back! You're going to realize what a worthless pile of dirt you are and you will never forget it!"

"No! You won't! Let me starve instead! You can't . . ." Philippe protested, but Claude pushed the knife against his throat even harder. "Not another word!" he hissed, spraying saliva in his face.

"I think there will be a companion for you, too," Stéphanie informed me, then turned to the stairs and yelled, "Erik! Get down here you scum!"

Only seconds later the little boy was scurrying down the stairs, this time with a white mask on to cover his deformed face. He was trembling as he said, "Oui, Maman?"

"In the basement, now! This thing will be joining you!" Stéphanie took me by the arm and kicked me onto the floor as Erik began walking toward a small door not far away. He had a miserable look on his face but didn't complain. Instead, he opened the door to the basement and rushed downstairs. Stéphanie pulled me over to the door and flung me down the stairs. I landed with a thud on the floor as I heard the door slam shut and lock.

The room seemed to be spinning and my head was aching. So I was going to have to stay in this bare, cold basement for a week with no food? I began weeping quietly from fright. It was so dark and eerie and I was frightened the monsters would come out and get me. This hardly seemed to bother Erik, though. He lied down on the hard, cement floor before asking, "Your Papa must never do this to you, right?"

"No." I sniffled and trembled from fear. I moved closer to Erik who took a tight hold of my sweaty hand. "Your parents do this a lot?"

"All of the time. Don't worry, they won't really keep us down here for a week. It's just a threat. It will be more like two or three days." But I knew by his tone of voice that this was a lie and he was only trying to comfort me.

"I've never gone a whole day without food, though."

Erik only shook his head and sighed. "It will be fine. We will get out of here soon enough. Now stop crying."

"I can't," I told him. "I want Papa. I don't want to be here. What if the monsters come?"

Erik chuckled. "They won't. I'm the only monster here."

"You're not a monster." I paused before adding, "You're my friend."

"Really?"

"Oui. You're my friend. Friends stay by each other through tough times, right?"

"I wouldn't know. I've never had one before."

"They're supposed to, and you're doing that."

"We'll get through this together," he told me. "It won't be that bad."

"We'll get through this," I repeated, but added on after a short pause, "mon ami."

A/N: Like it? Please review and tell me what you like, dislike, what could be better, etc. It really helps and it keeps me going.