Vomit

"How did you find out?" The boy possessing the foreign body slumped against the chair he was sitting on.

"Mael doesn't act like this." Ambre sat down on the bed. Looking at the boy, eyes neutral, but clearly scanning him with her bright pink eyes.

"I know." The boy did not make any eye contact. Blending deeper into the chair. Her constant staring made him want to throw up.

"You could have been sentenced to death?" The blonde girl sneered. 

"Who cares?" The boy's voice trembled. Remembering no one who cared. Not where he was or where he was from.

"Emo much?" The girl stood up, dusting her dress. Walking towards him.

"Emo much." The boy agreed. He looked at the figure that was closing in.

The girl grabbed the boy by his cheeks. Pressing her fingers on his face. Hard enough to get a yelp out of him. His already weak body felt weaker.

"You are a waste of space, really." She whispered. She looked at him like he was food someone had vomited on the street.

"You don't know what I have gone through." The boy felt his eyes become warm, his nose red. Scared of being hated.

He had always been scared of being hated. 

That was why he stayed silent all those times.

Those times he let it all happen to his sister. All of it for nothing as he met the same fate.

The regret gnawing on his chest. His teeth hurt, as though he bit on ice cream.

He wanted to throw up.

The girl looked at him, her eyes holding empty feelings and scorn.

"So?" The girl let go of his face, as he finally felt like he could breathe. Barely but he could.

"I don't care if you have gone through hell, I need to survive. And you are crucial at that." The girl walked towards the door. Her back, held firm and poised.

"At least your body is." She touched the doorknob. Then stared at the boy.

"So if you even try to get a scar on this boy's body," She started. "I will hurt you in ways you can't imagine." The words covered by the opening door. But clear like a spring. 

The boy sat there, shivering. Trying to stand up, just to fall into the chair. His back hitting the chair. It hurt. It felt like a knife was carving his back into something. It was slow, quiet. But it was a piercing pain.

He had sat there for a minute swallowing the urge to scream. His eyes sting. The girl's hands still hurt. They still hurt him.

He did not know how much time passed as he sat there. He felt like he was what she thought he was. And maybe he was. Maybe if he had loved his sister a bit more, he could have stopped all the pain on her side.

All those days, he watched her smile through the bruises.

All those days, he heard her cry in pain.

She was a young kid too.

So maybe he deserved this for being silent.

"Young master." A maid knocked on the door. The boy remained silent.

"The master is calling you for dinner." The boy nodded. Then realized she could not see him.

"I am coming." His feeble voice spoke out. Barely making any noise, but the maid probably had sharp ears.

The maid entered his room at the answer. Bowing at him. Her face wrinkled. But when she looked at him, her eyes were like black tea. Warm black tea, with lots of sugar. 

She walked to the cupboard, as he silently watched him. She brought some clothes for him to wear. He tried to stand up. The maid helped him with it.

He felt powerless.

He was powerless.

He got dressed up. The maid helped him with everything. She was an old one. He thought she might be used to doing this. She glanced at him, her face worried.

Could she feel him being the fake one?

"Are you alright young master?" The woman asked after he got ready. Sitting him down on the chair. Brushing his hair.

The boy nodded. 

Who would even listen to him.

Soon another maid came. A young and pale one. But she was big. She helped the boy walk.

He softly walked to where they were walking him.

Slowly.

His feet were being dug by needles at every step. His slippers were doing nothing to not hurt him.

Then he reached the dining hall.

It was large. Furnished in beautiful paintings. Gold layered all over. The wall was a beautiful prussian blue. The light falling gently on the room, from the white fires that floated around the room.

It was flame magic.

There was a long table in the middle. With lots of chairs. Two of them occupied. Ambre sitting at an edge, with a blonde boy with purple eyes sitting beside her. A child of some ten years.

In the chapters where Mael and Ambre were present. There was once a mention of a younger sibling.

He sat at the other edge. Opposite to Ambre. He could not look at her. So he looked at the young boy instead. His purple eyes wide-open. The little boy stared back. Soon it was a match off between the two. Neither inching back, the little boy's eyes started twitching. And then he closed them.

He rubbed his eyes, and the older boy unconsciously curled his lips up.

"Big brother is smiling!" The young boy pointed at the older boy, pulling on Ambre's clothes.

Ambre who quietly watched the little moment. Grinned. Her eyes showed no reaction towards the older boy.

"Yes he did Latte, because of you too. Isn't that a great thing!" The girl softly patted the young boy who simmered at the little praise.

"Mael, it is rare to see you smile. I wonder what happened." Ambre chuckled. She looked at the older boy with a look coated in sugar.

The boy in turn, grimaced. It made him feel nauseous

Suddenly there were sounds of heels hitting the cold floor. On looking around, a blonde man with pink eyes and a black haired woman with purple eyes walked in. 

Both Ambre and the little brother stood up.

He also tried to stand up. But his legs were numb from sitting.

"No need to stand up, Mael." The woman walked towards him, her eyes gentle and warm. Her lipstick a bright red. Contrasting her pale face. She ruffled his hair then placed a soft kiss on his forehead. He did not know how to react, freezing in place.

"Are you feeling any better?" The man asked, standing besides the woman. His eyes are stern and kind. He was the duke who married into the family. He and the woman made a beautiful couple.

The boy nodded, not knowing how to speak.

The woman sat at the seat at the front. With Mael on one side, Ambre on the other. The man sat beside Mael. 

With the attention on the boy, the boy felt like his ears and eyes were going to melt off of his body. 

The man and woman, he assumed were his parents, for the time being. They were rather kind. For the lack of words. They tried to feed him, do everything for him. The food felt like he had chewed it and then puked it on his plate. Eating it again.

This was like back then. Back when he was alive. When his parents at first put all their attention on him. Until they realized he was trash.

Meanwhile the other two children of theirs were in their own world. They looked like family. They were family. They reminded him of his sister. 

His sister.

His sister who was dead. He realized he can't even see the grave anymore. He had nothing that reminded him of her.

His whole body felt cold. He started to quiver. His chest hurt. 

He wanted to scream, but his voice could not carry that burden.

Feeling his stomach squirm.

All the tasteless food in his stomach emptied out onto his clothes. The meat, the stew. Light brown, ugly vomit. That was exactly how he felt. That was exactly what he was.

He could not understand anything, except the tears in his eyes. The people gathering around him, all of their faces filled with worry he did not deserve.

 He closed his eyes. And he wished when he woke up. There would be no tomorrow to live for.

There was nothing to live for, after all.