Ava by L G Savage

I'm okay.. Not really okay but I shall live on.. Live on...

-Walter2

He wasn't exactly happy with the situation he was in.

Actually, no one would be happy if they were ever in his condition... In his shoes which was quite unfavorable.

He worked in this certain household tending on almost everything so as to get a roof over his head and food for his stomach, which wasn't much but it at least kept him alive.

He wasn't a servant but a slave!.

They never paid him with actual money. They never took him to school and they never loved him, they weren't his parents anyway so why were they supposed to care for him?.

His needs meant nothing and he wore rags while their kids wore nice and expensive designer clothes... Reason? He was not worthy to be in new clothes.

He didn't go to school either but he stole the old books that the other kids didn't use anymore and tried to self teach himself.

For now, he had no big dreams apart from staying alive and striving hard to get out of his current condition... No big dreams.. He only wished for freedom... For love... For company and at least a little compassion.

He took all of these in and uttered no word at all. He had to live on. He was in no place allowed to complain or tell anyone of what took place in that house.

He had to survive and prove to them that he would be someone of importance someday but for now, he had more chores to do.

He walked out from the laundry room, the laundry basket in his hands. He had to take the clean clothes to their respective rooms and take the dirty ones down for washing.

There was always clothes in need of laundry... There was always something in that house in need of washing.

As depressing as it was, he at times thought that he deserved it. Perhaps this was a punishment for him... He didn't know who his real parents were let alone remember them, the harder he tried to remember their faces, the fader their images in his head faded away... So he stopped trying to remember.

All he remembered was that his parents died in the fire that disfigured his face and other parts of his body. He looked at his reflection on the mirror that was in the hallway before quickly looking away.

He hated the way he looked and he wished... Oh how he wished that he had died in that fire alongside his parents.

He looked so ugly and disfigured with his face all burnt up. No wonder they bought him no clothes, no wonder they didn't bother taking him to school let alone allow him to step out of the house.

"You are a disgrace and you're paying for the death of your parents. You're probably the cause of your parent's death". Mrs. Rubis the madam of the house had once told him.

As far as he was concerned, he was the only child his parents had and he didn't know any of his relatives... Not his aunts, uncles or even grandparents. He was all alone. Alone and filthy.

"Are you going to stand there all day? Ghost?". James asked pathetically as he stood on the topmost staircase looking down at him, his arms crossed against his chest.

James was the son of Mrs. Rubis. The first born and the most pampered... Or rather, the most spoilt. James never used his name, he always referred to him as "ghost". It hurt at first but not anymore.... It still hurt (though not that much) that his disfigured appearance was the cause behind James calling him "ghost" but what was he to do?.

He looked up at James and slowly shook his head.

"Use your words ghost". James spat disgustingly. He did nothing but look at him.

"Stop looking at me lest you disfigure me as well". James added. The boy looked down at the laundry basket he held, tears threatening to stream down his face. He tried to blink them away but he failed.

"You're such a weakling. I need my clothes." James said as he turned and left for his room.

"My name is Korna". He whispered to himself. "Not ghost".

•••••

"Hi". The little girl whispered as she looked down at her feet shyly. She had dark brown curly hair just like her mothers. Large brown bambi eyes and pink lips.

Yeah, yeah she was pretty. But no, she was Mrs. Rubis' daughter. The last born but not spoilt as the first. She was simply not Mrs. Rubis' favorite like the way James was. Nonetheless, that didn't change the fact that she had Mrs. Rubis' blood in her veins. She was her offspring and sooner or later, she could show the dark colors that her mother had showed him.

She was shorter than he was... She was just five and he was ten years... Of course she had to be shorter than he was.