My Life as a Maid

A.N. Updates have been slow lately... I'm sorry. But it's summer and I do have other things to do besides write! (Yes, really.) Anyway, here is Chapter 5 for you all.

This morning I was almost surprised to find the sweeping brush and other cleaning things at the door. I was still thinking like a chef, but now Madame Talbot was well again so I could get back to doing my normal work. I got started with the basement and repeated the same process I did every morning.

In the house, the kitchen is on the ground floor quite close to the stairs. The staircase and kitchen are separated by a couple of rooms in between. I cleaned along the corridor and went back up again with the duster for good measure. I started up the stairs, dusting the velvet and polishing the wooden banister.

I looked up in a mixture of surprise and fear at Madame Talbot. She was making her way downstairs towards me, and she didn't look to be in the best of moods. She looked down at me hard and I found myself suddenly becoming very interested in my feet. I didn't want to look at her; it would only cause trouble anyway. After seeing Flippy last night I wasn't sure if I wanted anyone to stick up for me again. At least, not in that way.

I passed by her, and let out a little squeak of surprise when I fell face-forward onto the stair a bit above me. I blinked at the red velvet surface once or twice, before sitting up and rubbing my face lightly. Madame Talbot said nothing, just moved her foot away as I began to gather up my things again.

I was annoyed at myself for letting her trip me up, but there really was nothing I could do being a mucker. So, I just kept going as if nothing had happened, dust, polish, and repeat. In a way, I felt like I was a robot. I was moving like one, acting like one too. Like I was afraid to show any emotion. In fact, I think I was afraid to. I really needed to sort out my feelings.

The butler gave me an odd look as I passed by, but I took no notice of it. I was pretty used to people looking at me in a confused manner. Not just here, from the butler and other members of the house, but from when I was young. I was always the victim of bullying. I remembered two twins, each was exactly identical. The only way of telling them apart was the fedora that one wore. They had similar names too. Lifty... and Shifty, I think. They had great fun calling me names, although I'll admit: their teasing and name-calling weren't nearly as bad as Flippy's horrific games.

The thought of Flippy brought me back to last night. Every night he'd played a game, but last night there was nothing. He didn't say anything either. Part of me was thankful for this; it didn't leave me with an hour's sleep for the next morning. But another small part of me almost, in a way, missed the games. I shook my head furiously and told myself to get on with my work.

Forget about Flippy, I thought to myself. Forget about him and concentrate!

I reached the top floor and continued scrubbing and sweeping. The house was strangely quiet. It was always quiet, but there was always something to be heard, be it me, or the butler walking from room to room. It was nice, but it was unusual too. I stood up straighter and dropped the arm that was holding the can of polish. I took a look around at the hall when something caught my eye. I dropped the can of polish. It hit the ground with a clatter, and slid halfway down the stairs.

Flippy turned away from the window and looked over his shoulder at me. I stayed perfectly still, watching his eyes. If possible, I tensed up even more. Flippy smiled and faced me fully. He leaned against the windowsill behind him, his hands in the pockets of his black denims. I saw he had no shoes or socks on. He wore a green, tight-fitting shirt that showed the muscles in his arms. The sun shone down on him, making him look more like a God. His forest green hair seemed lighter in the pale light, but it just made his eyes look brighter and brighter, which frightened me most.

"Well hello, sweetheart," he greeted me, walking over. I stayed still, and he grinned.

"What's wrong with you? Did I say something insulting?"

"N-No," I stuttered, fixing my gaze on his feet. "Of c-course not."

"That's a relief. It wouldn't be any good if you were scared of your best friend, would it?"

"...I-It wouldn't."

Flippy stepped even closer, frighteningly close. He flashed his teeth again. "You still seem scared to me, sweetheart. Lift your chin up. Be brave!"

I felt the colour drain from my face when he placed two fingers under my chin. He tilted my face up so I was looking him in the eye. My chocolate-brown circles stared into his unnerving amber-gold orbs. Flippy lifted his other hand and ran his fingers along the material of my little ribbon. Despite the fact that my nerves were practically disappearing, I kept my eyes on him. Flippy raised an eyebrow.

"You're doing well," he laughed quietly. "The others didn't last a second. In fact, the one with the pickle ran away crying. Now that was funny. I haven't seen you cry. I don't think so anyway. I've heard you, yes. But I've never seen you cry. What would make you cry, hm?"

"A-Anything," I stammered, trying to keep my eyes from moving away. I flushed red at having said that.

"Hm. We'll have to give you a tester. I have a question though: If I kissed you, would you be fired? I'm pretty sure that would get you crying. Then again, there's only me to tell my father and he'd never believe me. Most girls don't go for my type. What do you think? Do you like my type?"

His question made my knees shake; I did my best to stay steady and failed. My knees buckled underneath me and I dropped a little way to the ground. I suppressed a whimper when I felt Flippy catch my shoulder and steady me. He moved his hand away, and replaced it at my waist. I shivered.

"You okay there?" Flippy asked. "You're looking a little pale." He laughed again.

"I-I... I..."

My eyebrows shot upwards, and my eyes widened when he placed his hand on my cheek, and his lips on mine. I'd expected them to be hard, but they were soft and gentle. His eyes were closed; his expression was calmer than usual. In this way, he seemed almost normal. But only in appearance.

He moved his hand from my waist and ran it over my hair. He took his hand away and breathed in deeply, moving away. His fingers were still holding on lightly to a strand of my hair. He ran them along the length and then let go. Time seemed to stand still between us. We stared at each other in silence, each contemplating what had happened. I felt shocked, while Flippy seemed to feel that he'd achieved something, accomplished some goal.

After what felt like hours, he walked by me. On his way he patted my head gently and said, "Thanks for that, dear."

He walked downstairs without a word or a glance back. I stood at the top of the stairs, struggling to steady my breathing. I felt as if I couldn't tell the difference between imagination and reality, I was so dazed. I was on the edge of both, not sure where to go. I closed my eyes and stood still for ten seconds like Mother used to make me. I breathed in deeply and thought of her. Immediately, I felt myself calming down.

"Finish up here and then you're done for today," I reminded myself.

I made it to my room in a daze. I felt around for the light switch and started to get changed. I listened for Flippy, but I couldn't hear anything. I sat down on my bed and started to sing subconsciously.

"Starting to drift, starting to wander,

Feeling myself slowly growing less fonder..."

I took a breath to sing the next line, but I was joined by another soft voice. Coming from the laundry chute.

"Of all of the nightmares surrounding me here,

Feeling myself being enveloped in fear."

I stood up and found myself smiling. I walked slowly over to the laundry chute and sat down at the bottom.

"Y-You have a n-nice voice, Flippy," I said nervously. He laughed.

"I disagree. Your voice is the best I've ever heard."

"Th-Thank you but.. no."

We froze at a noise from outside. A loud bang, and the sound of something wailing in pain. I took a peek up the laundry chute. From what I could see, Flippy was standing up. I waited a minute, and when he still didn't relax, I asked, "I-Is everything o-okay?"

Flippy turned and sat down again. He looked at me, and I could see he was smiling. "Father is having another late-night hunt. You'll get used to them."

I hadn't been paying attention to what he was saying, just hearing it. I knew that tone of voice, and at a second glance I knew Flippy was gone psych-mode again.

"I'm feeling kind of tired, so I'll give you a choice between pinches, slaps, or being tickled. Which one do you want?"

I suppressed a shaky breath. I thought about which game was easiest to play. Or in my situation, which game hurt less. I had a choice of being tickled with his knife, or having my hand slapped, or pinched.

"Th-The game where y-you slap m-my hand," I told him.

"An excellent choice," said Flippy. "Well, you know the rules."

I placed my hand inside the laundry chute and closed my eyes tightly. He smacked my hand against the side and I whimpered.

"Having fun so far, darling? Don't worry. I'm just getting started. I might have kissed you earlier but there's no end to the fun of my games. Just wait until I get some new ideas, sweetheart. Now, your other hand, if you don't mind."

A.N. Yeah, bit of a short chapter. But, I have a headache and I am tired! And before anyone goes all copyright with the song, I made it up, okay?