I'm slightly surprised by his question.
"Excuse me, my what?" I look at the old man, staring at him incredulously. He doesn't seem shocked by my response.
"Your story lad. Why you were in the woods this time o' night." He leans back in his seat, stroking the old dog. "Why were you in the woods? All 'lone too."
What business is it of his anyway? Why should I tell him? It doesn't concern him at all in the slightest. I don't say anything, just turn my gaze back to the fire. He chuckles quietly to himself. I scoff, too low for him to hear.
"Don't ask ridiculous questions. It's none of your concern. I was just out looking around." I announce, louder than normal. I glance over to Charlie, and see him smirking. For some reason it bothers me. Why is he smiling? "What?!" I snarl, anger seeping out of me. My muscles tense, and I clench my hands in to fists, trying to calm down and control my temper. "Sorry Charles. I apologize for shouting." I straighten up, sitting taller than before.
"Seems I hit a nerve. Well never mind then. It's late, I've made up a bed for yee, it's just down the hall." He gets up from the couch, taking his mug with him. He doesn't say a word, instead walks to the kitchen, placing his cup in the basin. "G'night" He grunts out, stomping quietly up the stairs, and closes the door in a hurry. That was unexpected.
I stay sitting for some time. I don't know how long has gone by. The fire started to go out a while ago, and now only a few coals burn softly, crackling in to the silence. Charles has not emerged from his room. I suppose I should go to bed, it's quite late. I slowly rise from my seat, gripping the armrest for support. My vision goes black and blurry for a few seconds, and this wave of intense pressure comes on full force in my head. I sway, but catch my balance. Whoa. What was that? I shake it off, and head to my room.
It's cozy; Small, but quaint. Certainly not what I'm used to, but it will have to do. The bed has a worn handmade patchwork quilt on it, its wrought iron rails rusty. The floor is hardwood, and is covered in a braided rug that reaches to every corner of the room. There are several photos on the the walls, of a family, a large oak tree, of a cat. I wonder if that's Charles' family. There is an antique bookshelf crammed full of well used books. I sit down on the bed, the squeak of the springs surprising me. I don't think I've ever had a bed that squeaked, or made noises for that matter. I see a set of pajamas have been set out for me, a soft blue flannel button up shirt and pants. I undress and put them on, the cozy material soothing on my skin. I climb under the sheets, reveling in the heat and comfort it provides. The pillows aren't very fluffy, but I have nothing better. As unfortunate this situation, I am grateful to be out of the cold, in his warm home, no matter how small it is. He has no reason to do this and yet he still took me in. I am truly lucky he found me out there, who knows what would have happened. Sebastian wouldn't have known. He would have looked, surely, but I have no way of knowing whether he would have found me, or my corpse. He must be out looking right now. Frantic and worried, running around. But… But maybe he isn't. I said so many things to him, cruel and harsh things. He probably doesn't want to look for me. He's probably at home, enjoying his time off, relaxing and drinking tea, or sleeping, or God knows what else. I am almost sure he isn't looking though, now that I think about it. Why would he? Why would he look for a miserable ungrateful child like me, after I told him all those terrible things.
"You disgust me." "Don't touch me." "You don't deserve the title of a Phantomhive butler" "You lied." "Leave. Now." I practically said I hated him. I did. At that moment I did. I hated him so much; with every fiber of my body I hated him. He deserved to be hated, after what he did. He doesn't just get to lie to me for my whole life, and expect to be treated the same when I find out. Although I need him, to care for me and keep me company, and even though he is the biggest constant in my life, I don't know if I will be able to get over this. Something this big, something this radical. People don't just move on. He's my dad…
When I open my eyes, I don't see my bedroom, I'm not in my king sized bed, Sebastian isn't by the window, drawing the curtains to let the sunlight in. I sit up, remembering the tiny cottage I have taken in to. My eyesight goes dark, as I become light headed, feeling faint. I close my eyes, breathing heavily, hoping whatever this is will pass quickly. I slide out of the bed, surprised when my muscles pull and tighten. I'm not used to being this sore. I stand up and stretch, groaning from the pain. I look around on the ground for my slippers, only to realize that they're not there. Hmm… No slippers. I reach to the side to grab my robe from its place on the wall, except it's not there. No robe either. I'm not home; I don't have all my stuff here. But still… Shouldn't there at least be slippers and a robe in his home? A little miffed, I leave the room in only my pajamas, the floor cool on my bare feet, my skin just a fraction colder than I'm used to. Neither of these things is upsetting, but they leave me slightly peeved. I go down the stairs, and see Charlie in the kitchen, cooking. I smell the meat before I see it. It infiltrates my nose and sends my senses flying. The aroma has my mouth watering in seconds. I come up behind him quietly, overcome by the smell of the frying meat. The dog trots over to me, growling, but happily, excitedly, licking my fingers with his tongue. Charles turns around, and smiles.
"Mornin' Ciel." He stirs what's in the pan, and adds some spices. "Food'll be done in a jiffy. Go on, sit down." I make my way to the table, and take a seat, watching him put the cooked meat on to two plates, and carry them over to the table, the dog trailing behind him. I'm ravenous and the food smells so good, I have to dig in as soon as the plate is placed in front of me. My tongue is assaulted by flavors and textures beyond my comprehension. Salty, tangy, with tomatoes and spices. I chew the tender meat, the juicy, delicious meat, moaning quietly. I didn't know I was quite this hungry.
"This is heavenly. Thank you." I stuff my mouth full after speaking. "What type of meat is this?"
"I don't get to make it very often, it's a special recipe." He says. "It's your horse."
A/N: HAHAHAHA! Oh lordy, I love being cruel. Ok, so I don't know what you guys want, so I'm going to let you decide. Do you want Charlie to be this sweet nice old man who lives alone in the woods and is the bestest person in the entire world, or do you want him to be this old man who seems very kind, but is actually kind of sick and twisted on the inside. Comment what you want, and what you think of the chapter.
Xoxo
thegraceler