"Marissa? When will Father be back?" I asked, staring down at my bowl of cereal. Michael had asked for a different cereal for breakfast but it looked weird to me. It apparently was from Earthala and came in different colors. I was more curious as to why the milk started to change color when the cereal stayed in it too long.
"He'll be back soon, I promise," Marissa reassured me, walking over to the table. She was pretty, with short curly locks and bright brown eyes with hints of gold in them. I always loved Marissa because she was different than the other angels and maids. She treated Michael and I kindly not because she had to, but because she wanted to.
Some would say I was too young to know the difference, but I read books with Michael about how to interpret the body language of both humans and shifters. She never once looked at us like we were a burden. She was a savior compared to Claire who always glared at us when Father wasn't around.
We'd slept in and it was already mid-afternoon. I didn't mind having a late breakfast since there was nothing for us to do today aside from hiding in our rooms to read. I glanced at the empty chair opposite of me and frowned.
“Marissa? Is Michael going to eat with me today?"
She gave me a sympathetic look. "I don't know. We'll have to wait and see."
I nodded, but my shoulders sank in disappointment. Lately, Michael had been pushing away from everyone, including me.
He'd been having issues with his classmates. Most of them looked down at the fact Michael openly liked both genders. Neither of us thought there was anything bad about talking about it in public, but doing so backfired for him. He was still dealing with the aftermath of it all.
Being the children and potential heirs to the kingdom put a lot of pressure on us and it was starting to put a strain on our behavior. I just wished Father was here more often to give us some reassurance that everything people were saying about us wasn't true.
Words hurt and I was worried Michael would do something he'd regret. I waited for another fifteen minutes until my cereal was soggy. I pushed the untouched food away and sighed.
"Daniel, you can't keep skipping meals. It's not good for you," Marissa pointed out, shaking her head at me.
"I don't like eating without brother," I mumbled. I was getting tired of being alone. I hadn't started training yet because I was still struggling with controlling my gift and Claire said I'd just ruin the learning experience for the other angels.
This left me home by myself, or with Michael sometimes, while Marissa went around doing house duties. I hadn't been able to get even a five minute conversation with my brother this week and I was getting frustrated.
I heard footsteps and turned to the doorway just as Michael came in. He had dark circles under his eyes and looked like he had hardly slept. I frowned at him and he must have noticed my worry, coming over to where I sat.
"Morning," he mumbled, ruffling my hair like he usually did.
Marissa put her hands on her hips and gave Michael a worried stare. "We need to get you checked, Michael. You're not sleeping properly," Marissa stressed.
Michael sighed and shook his head in disapproval. He pulled the chair back and sank down in the seat, resting his head on the table. "I'm perfectly fine," he replied; his monotone voice only made me more worried.
I looked to his long-sleeved pajamas which I knew hid black and purple bruises from the multiple beatings he'd received this week.
I wasn't one to talk, looking down at my short sleeved shirt that was buttoned all the way to my neck to hide the burns I'd received recently from Claire.
It was times like these where I wished I knew how to heal myself properly, but then I'd become Claire's living ashtray. When I tried to heal the wound before, she beat me, claiming it was my punishment to endure the pain those cigarettes caused.
I didn't get why she specifically liked burning my shoulder blades. Maybe she didn't want me to be able to walk shirtless when I was older. It was because of her abusive ways that neither of us liked to wear any clothing that revealed too much.
Marissa crossed her arms. "You aren't fine, Michael. Don't think I don't hear you screaming at night. You never got nightmares when you were younger."
"MARISSA!"
I froze and noticed Michael’s body grow rigid, then he turned his head to the doorway, his gold eyes deepening to a darker copper within seconds.
Marissa bit her lip, glancing at both of us before replying. "Coming Ma'am!" She headed to the doorway but stopped, turning back to us. "I may have to step out today. Be good and if possible stay in your rooms until I return. Understood?"
We both nodded in agreement and she rushed out to meet Claire's demands. I glanced at Michael who had his head back on the table. I pushed back my chair and got up, going over to pour him a bowl of cereal.
"I'm not hungry," he protested.
"I don't like eating alone," I countered, turning over the box of Earthala cereal to pour some in the small white bowl. He didn't reply and I knew he wouldn't argue anymore. I poured another bowl for myself and walked over to the fridge to get the milk.
I frowned when I realized it was on the top shelf and there was no way I'd be able to reach it. My eyes scanned the kitchen looking for the stool, but it was nowhere to be found.
The sound of chair legs sliding on the tiled floor alerted me that Michael had gotten up. Within a few steps he was behind me, reaching for the milk.
"I could have done it," I mumbled, wishing my five-cycle self was taller. Maybe when I turned six, I'd grow and magically be Michael's height.
A small smile graced his lips before he ruffled my hair. "Let's eat," he whispered.
I smiled back and rushed over to our bowls of cereal. Michael poured milk for both of us and I placed his bowl on his side before taking my own and placing it at my spot. We both sat and quickly said grace, thanking the Starlight gods for another day of life and food before we began to eat.
"Michael?" I asked when I'd almost finished my meal.
"Yes?" He glanced up from his bowl, and his tired eyes were just another reminder of our current dilemma with Claire.
"Can't we tell Father? I don't want you getting hurt anymore," I whispered.
Michael gave me a sad smile but shook his head. "No. He's in love with her. He won't care," Michael argued sullenly.
"But...we're not happy. Doesn't that matter?" I wondered.
Michael took a deep breath and ruffled his hair. "I wish it did, Daniel. But Father...he's lonely. He has to rule an entire realm on his own. One of the only comforts he gets is having a partner," Michael explained.
"But she's um...two-faced?"
Michael lifted an eyebrow at me. "Where did you learn that from?"
"The maids say it all the time. Why can't I?" I furrowed my eyebrows and tilted my head to the side in curiosity.
"It’s not that you can't say it...just don't use it in front of Father or Claire," Michael firmly ordered.
I nodded, tipping my bowl as I began drinking my milk.
"MICHAEL!"
I jumped and my bowl slipped from my little hands. Michael immediately stretched out his hand. "FLOAT!" he commanded and the bowl stopped just an inch before it hit the table; the white liquid of my milk floated in the air. We both sighed in relief and Michael lowered the bowl back to the table and then the remainder of milk fell back inside.
"Coming!" he yelled back, getting up.
I noticed he wavered on his feet and I was immediately up and at his side. "Michael! You okay?" I asked, my eyes filled with worry for my brother.
He blinked a few times and shook his head. "I'm fine. Just...don't worry about it. I'll be okay. Can you wash the dishes?"
I nodded. "Yes."
He smiled in relief. "Okay. Wash them and go back to your room, okay?"
My shoulders sank as I looked up at him, unable to answer.
He pulled me into a hug and whispered in my ear, "I'm okay, Daniel. I'll take a nap later, I promise."
"Okay. I'll see you later...maybe?"
"I'll try to pass by your room after my nap," he reassured me.
"MICHAEL!"
We both looked to the doorway and groaned. "Just do what she says and hopefully Marissa will be back shortly," I recommended.
Michael gave me a sympathetic look. "You're too young to be advising me," he mumbled.
I smiled. "I know."
He shook his head, but with a smile on his face, he walked out the door. I washed the bowls and made my way back to my room. I jumped at a loud sound that came from the living room.
I ran back and poked my head in and saw Michael picking up shards of glass from the floor, his arm dripping with blood.
"Don't you glare at me with those eyes, you gay bastard! You're the reason your father has to work hard all the time and is never home with me!" Claire snarled.
I narrowed my eyes at her and anger boiled inside me. I took a calming breath and walked into the room, my eyes lowering to Michael who continued to pick up the shattered glass. I knelt down to help but Michael turned and glared at me.
"I can do it. You're gonna hurt yourself," he hissed.
"But you're hurt! What’s the difference?" I returned, my voice barely audible. He didn't understand that his pain was my pain.
He bit his lip in frustration, but didn't argue. We both picked up the remaining pieces and walked them over to the little garbage can near the doorway that was filled with cigarettes, ripped magazines, and other broken items I knew were a result of Claire's temper tantrums.
Marissa always took out the trash before sunrise so I knew the pile of junk was from today alone. I glanced at my hand, noticing I'd cut my finger and blood began to drip into the bin below.
"I told you," Michael mumbled, taking my hand and placing his over the top of it. He closed his eyes and a soft warm glow emitted from his hand. In seconds, the cut was healed.
"You should heal your arm," I suggested.
"I'll do it later. Let me get a towel to clean the blood," Michael replied.
"MICHAEL! Did I say you can leave?" Claire demanded from behind us.
We turned to meet her glaring gold eyes and she raised an eyebrow at us. I shuddered at the sight of the cigarette in her hand, bringing back the memory of the intense pain one could cause, as evidenced by the scars on my shoulder blades.
"No," Michael responded simply, stepping in front of me protectively.
"Hmph. Clean up this mess and not a sound from either of you," she snapped.
Michael nodded, reaching behind him so I could grasp his hand. He pulled me away and took me straight to my room.
"Don't leave unless you're hungry. Even if you hear Claire shouting or stuff breaking," Michael instructed, turning to leave.
"Michael."
He froze and turned to meet my intense gaze. He walked back over to me and placed his hand on my shoulders. "I know you're angry. I get it. But we can't do anything for now. Maybe when Father returns I'll talk to him," Michael proposed.
I knew he was lying which only made me more upset. "Daniel please," Michael urged with a pained expression.
I bit my lip and blinked back tears as I struggled to rein in my gift. "I hate this. Can't we run away? Why are we stuck here? I want friends and people who care about us. I hate our home. I want a new one!" I cried, tears streaming down my face.
Michael cursed under his breath and pulled me into a tight hug. "I want a new home too, Daniel. I really do. Just a little longer. Maybe one more cycle. Father said he'd cut back on his trips. When he does, we’ll feel like a family again and maybe Claire won't be such a...well you know." As he spoke, he rubbed my back soothingly.
I sniffed and rubbed my eyes as my shoulders shook. Michael wiped at my tears. "I promise if it gets too much, we'll go away. Maybe we can bring Marissa too.”
"Really?"
"Yes. Though, I think it’s better if we wait until I'm ten or eleven cycles. At least I'd be strong enough to protect you, then" Michael considered.
I smirked. "You're already SUPER strong, brother!"
"Well, I want to get even stronger so no one will bother you. If they do, I'll beat them up," he announced.
"Hmm. Okay, I'll wait. But we go together when the time comes," I confirmed.
"Always. I'll never leave you behind," Michael promised before walking to the door.
"Love you, Michael. Make sure you heal your arm." I wanted him to know I cared for him. I couldn't afford to lose him.
He looked over his shoulder and into my desperate eyes. "I love you too. I'll heal it."
I nodded and watched the door close shut. I looked around my room and wondered what I would do. I'd been taking books from Father's library, wanting to learn as much as possible regarding mental health. Marissa said Claire had mental issues and Michael always said the same, using it as an excuse for her behavior. But I didn't think that was the case and I wanted to know as much about it to help our defense if we had to tell Father.
"I guess I'll read," I mumbled.
"Are you sure you don't want to rest?"
I closed my eyes and a genuine smile formed on my lips at the entrance of my spirit, Azriel Moore. He was my angel spirit and always helped keep me company when I was beyond lonely, which was sadly often the case.
"Ya. I'm worried about Michael. What if he gets hurt? Like really hurt. He's showing symptoms of that thing we read about yesterday," I said out loud as I got up to grab the large medical book I took from the main library.
"Suicidal symptoms?" Azriel questioned.
"Ya... I'm scared...he's going to disappear, Azriel," I admitted. The thought of one day walking into the room and seeing Michael gone was the focus of my most recent bout of nightmares.
"We'll keep an eye on him," Azriel vowed.
"How? He always locks himself in his room and tells us to stay here. What if one day, it's just too much for him?" I asked in a shaky breath.
Azriel was silent and I could feel the flicker of worry he had for our brother. He was just as close to Michael’s spirit, Ezriel, and I could feel his anxiety at such an awful idea.
"Let's ask Marissa for a spare key to Michael's room so we can check on him. She wouldn't mind," Azriel suggested.
"That's a good idea. Thanks, Azriel. I love you!" I exclaimed happily, feeling a little better as I stared down at the medical book.
It was sad that I knew so much for my age. Marissa always commented to the other maids when she thought I wasn't around that Claire had ruined my innocence with her problems, but I didn't understand what she actually meant by that remark.
Were shifters not supposed to know about suicide and other medical conditions at five and a half? Maybe I'd ask her one day, but I knew my knowledge would help ensure my brother would be safe.
Or at least, I hoped it would.