Alfred's voice rang through my ears like a gunshot.
"Go upstairs Alfred. This doesn't concern you."
"But I need to protect Mattie! I can't let anyone hurt him!"
You can't protect me Alfred.England clenches his teeth. His grip on my shoulders tenses.
"Go upstairs Alfred."
"No! I'm the hero and I need to protect my brother!"
Arthur looked about ready to hit him, but he also looked like he was going to tell Alfred. He glares at Alfred. What do I do? If I tell Al, He'll punish me for sure.
"G-Go upstairs Al." I quietly say.
"But Mattie-"
"Go!" I cry out. My knees buckle and I fall into Arthur's chest. "It's going to be okay, lad." He whispers in my ear. Out of the corner of my eye, I see Alfred reluctantly walk upstairs. Dad puts his hand on the back of my head and holds me closer.
"I told you not to tell anyone!"
I scream as leather collides with my lower back. Pain racked through my small body. My lower half was already numb. Why did Papa have to do this to me? He hit me again. I only screamed louder. He had yet to rape me… If he was going to do that…
Oh I hope he doesn't.
"Please Stop! I'm sorry! I didn't tell them!" I tensed as I awaited the familiar sound of a leather belt zipping through the air, then connecting with my already bloodied skin. That sound didn't come. I turned around and saw Papa's face go blank, then to an expression of sorrow. I sigh with relief. His expression went from that to anger in a moments notice. "What do you mean you didn't tell them?!" That night, he hit me harder than he has ever hit me before.
I tremble in fear at the thought. That was probably going to happen anyway if I went back to live with Papa. England's warm body pressed tightly against mine was… well… comforting. I sigh and turn to him. I sniffle and wipe my tears away with my sleeve. "Will you make sure P-Papa doesn't h-hit me anymore?" I said quietly.
"I might not be able to, but I can most certainly try, lad."
I hug him tight and nuzzle my head in the crook of his neck. He picks me up. My head hangs over his shoulder and I look down the hallway. I don't belong here. Dad carries me all the way to the kitchen and sets me down on one of the chairs.
"Would you like anything to eat, lad?"
My stomach growled at the thought of food. I haven't eaten since this morning and it was already the late afternoon. As a matter of fact, I barely ate breakfast. "Oui. J'ai très faim. Je n'ai pas mangé le petit déjeuner" England cocks his head to the side and raises a thick eyebrow.
"What was that, lad?"
"I didn't eat breakfast this morning." I say quietly.
"Well why didn't you say something earlier?" Arthur struts into the kitchen and pulls out some cooking ingredients. I watch in amazement as he attempts to cook. It was chaos. The bag of flour tips over and covers the floor. I laugh quietly to myself because it also covers Arthur. "Bloody Hell! Look at this mess I've made!" I laugh louder now. England sends me a glare and I stop laughing. "Why don't you try and cook, lad?" Arthur demanded.
"Oui." I jump off the chair and head into the kitchen. I grab a broom and start sweeping the floor. I can't possibly cook in a messy kitchen. I had to stand up on a chair to wipe of the counters. I reach for the bowl of batter that Arthur had made and stick my pinky finger in it. I swipe some out and put it in my mouth. I gag and throw the mixture, along with the bowl, into the garbage can. His face had a look of horror.
"What're you doing, lad! You could have still used that!"
"Non, Dad. I can't." I reply quietly. I walk over to the cabinet and pull out another mixing bowl. This was certainly a big middle finger to Arthur. I get out the ingredients needed and I mix them together in a bowl. I soon end up with a good amount of delectable pancake batter. "Can you get me a frying pan?"
"Sure, lad." Arthur replies. He reached up and took a pan off of one of the hooks that hang above the sink. He hands me the frying pan. "Are you sure you don't need help with this?" he asks; concerned.
"Non. Just let me do it." I take the pan from him and set it on the burner. I put a slab of butter on the pan and let it heat up. I throw on some pancake batter. I look over to Arthur and see that he's sitting on a chair, moping. I now have a small stack of pancakes on a plate. I hand the plate over to England. He takes the plate and just stares at it. I roll my eyes. "Try it." I say as I hand him a fork.
He slowly takes a bite. "This is amazing! Do you make delicacies like this all the time?"
"Delicacies? I make these for breakfast a lot. They're pretty simple." Arthur scowls and looks towards the floor. I take a plate of pancakes for myself and sit across from him. They're still pretty good even though I don't have any maple syrup. I don't even bother asking if he has any because I already checked.
We eat in silence. A few minutes later, Al comes downstairs. He basically ran down here.
"So you tasted Iggy's cooking?" He yells. Arthur turns into a boiling rage.
"I told you not to call me that!"
I tremble. I've always hated yelling.
"Whatever Iggy!" Arthur growled and mumbled something. Alfred was smiling like a fool. Can't he see that Arthur is upset? I was afraid something could happen to Alfred, but then again, they seemed to set each other off but nothing ever went beyond that. Arthur never hit Alfred, and Alfred never cried. I really don't belong here.
"What'd you make Mattie?"
"Pancakes."
"Can I try some?" Alfred asks excitedly. Arthur looks over to Alfred. "Here lad, you can have mine. I need to go and rest." With that, Arthur stands up and walks down the hall. He rubs the back of his head while he's walking. That must have been from all of my crying. I must have given him a headache.
Alfred was shoveling the tasty pancakes in his mouth. "Hey bro… What happened earlier?" He says as he finishes up the pancakes.