They were leaving again.
The redhead scowled viciously, half-empty bottle of whiskey teetering delicately between his fingers. From his spot at the top of the stairs, behind the intricate railing, he could see everything: the elaborate procession of servants carting suitcase and carry-on after suitcase and carry-on out the huge double doors in the foyer to the black limousine parked outside. His parents, each decked out in heavy, beautifully-crafted winter coats, smiling contently to themselves.
As if everything they were doing was okay.
He snarled and took another long swig of the whiskey in his hand. As if they didn't just come home from another whirlwind trip to God knows where.
As if he didn't even exist.
His mother, short and gray with age, but still as lively as ever, turned around to face Bonny, his nanny since he was born, with a smile.
"Well, we're all packed, Bonny. We'll see you again soon!"
His father turned as well, smile plastered on his face, "Yes, tell Jonathan we'll send him post cards!"
The redhead spat at the mention of his name. Always "Jonathan". Never Johnny. It was like he was a business transaction or a burden or something. He wasn't their son, he was a means for him and his wife to solidify the family tree.
Another swig.
Bonny gave a forced smile. Waved them off. As the heavy oak doors closed with a resolute thud, the aging nanny turned around and stared up at the second floor.
Right at him.
He didn't bother moving. Bonny would come to him; she always did. He leaned the near empty bottle of whiskey against the wall and huffed. It was all so stupid.
Bonny knelt down in front of him- as much as her joints would allow- and smiles. Reaches out and brushes his bangs out of his face.
"They do love you, you know,"
He scoffed and stood suddenly, "Like hell they do,"
Bonny sighed and stood as well, giving him a gentle hug before taking her leave.
Leaving him standing alone in the huge, empty, lonely foyer of the chillingly devoid castle he was supposed to call home.
Same shit, different day.