Crazy owner (9)
I had no choice but to use the main staircase again because the stack of books on my arms was so high that it blocked my entire view. Maids can only use the staircase, which is located at the back of the mansion. If anyone saw me, I would be punished, so I had to go quickly.
- Sir, I have returned with new books.
- For some reason you were late in the library.
– I chose carefully. I hope you enjoy it this time.
I opened the book I brought with me.
– Once upon a time, there lived a happy pig in the world. The carefree pig was so happy about every new day...
-What are you doing?
- What? What are you talking about?
When asked, I pretended that I didn’t understand and put on an innocent expression.
- This is a book of fairy tales.
- Yes. It's her, you're right.
– Are you sure you want to read it?
– I think that a book of fairy tales would be an ideal option for you now.
- What?..
“I decided it would be nice to read a fairy tale to my grumpy master.” A children's book is just the thing to find peace of mind.
Vincent made a ridiculous face. I looked at the collection of fairy tales again.
– If you want to listen to a specific fairy tale, then tell me. I have everything from a story about a happy pig to a story about a little errand girl. About the friendship between a boy and a fairy who fulfills all his wishes. About the mysterious adventure of a brother and sister, about the love of a blue bird. Any story is here now. I prepared several books because you said you don't like to reread. Please choose what suits your taste.
I was sure he hadn't read any of them. Vincent, unable to figure out what to answer me, closed his mouth. The back of his hand, which was gripping the sheets, had veins popping out as if he was about to rip it to shreds.
– If you have no preference, I will continue reading The Story of the Happy Pig. You can listen to at least such a short fairy tale? I don’t think you won’t have enough endurance, but still tell me if it becomes hard to listen to me.
I spat out these words, and so that he did not have time to interrupt me, I continued reading. Perhaps my words had an effect, this time he was calm. I got a little nervous and therefore stumbled, but fortunately I was able to read the collection to the end.
He, of course, threw away the next children's book.
* * *
Since then I continued to read to him. Of course, fairy tales again. Vincent said he didn't want to listen to them, but I continued reading anyway. Under the pretext of sincere concern for the master, I managed to read several more books.
A lot of time has passed since I worked in a bookstore and could afford to read books. It's a pity that that store closed when its elderly owner fell ill. As a farewell gift, he gave me several books. Most of them were fairy tales.
However, the books given to me went to Alicia. Alicia always coveted my things, even though she was not at all interested in them. In the end, she simply tore the books into pieces, so I was never able to read them. The torn books were eventually used for kindling.
After that it was difficult to find opportunities to read. I saved money several times, but stopped doing it after my father caught me at it and took it all away. Buying books was a luxury for the daughter of a poor peasant. I stopped reading when I discovered that the book cost more than a day's food.
Perhaps because it had been so long since I had read, I was glad to be able to hold them in my hands, even in this situation.
– And this is what you call “reading”?
– Why are you unhappy again?
- Everyone. Everything about your pronunciation.
Again he snaps.
I wonder if he's so annoyed because it's a children's book? I tried to read others to him, but he didn’t really listen to them. Reading to someone is even more difficult than I thought. So even though I know he doesn't like it, I can't resist picking up the storybook again.
I sigh and this time he gets annoyed and asks me why I keep sighing. For the first time I realize that I actually sigh a lot. But he himself is to blame for this!
“If you’re going to read to me, learn to breathe first.”
- I'm really sorry.
- Get out. I don't want to hear anything else.
In the end, I was kicked out with a book that I didn’t even read three pages of. But it doesn’t matter, even after reading aloud for a short time I was very tired.
Thanks to this, whenever I returned to my room after work, I quickly switched off and fell asleep. Fatigue brought sleep. However, I did not sleep soundly because I was worried about many things. Because of this, my sleep has become more responsive.
I heard a strange sound, as if someone was knocking on the wall in the next room. The sound was very loud and came from the master's room.
In a panic, I rushed into the next room.
Pushing open the door, I stepped into the dark room, looked at the bed and saw a round figure pressed against the wall. The figure flinched as I approached.
- What's happened?
-...
- Mister.
-...
- Mister?
- Who is this?
His voice was muffled and weak.
- It's me. Did something happen?
– I had a dream.
- Dream? What kind of dream?
- A terrible dream.
Oh, so you had a nightmare. I know what it's like because I have them often.
I look around, wondering what that loud knock was, but there is nothing that could have caused it. I wondered if Vincent had thrown something, as usual, but nothing had changed in the room.
It was difficult to make out details in the darkness. Vincent was covered with a sheet, so I couldn't see him well. But the hand holding the sheet trembled slightly.
-What did you dream about?
- Don't know. I don't remember anymore.
His voice sounded casual, but underneath it lay deep horror. I knew that he did not sleep well, and I understood that the moans that I heard at night belonged to him. But he never showed his fear.
It didn't take long to figure out what his nightmares were. These must be terrible, frightening dreams.
“It’s just a dream, keep sleeping.”
“I can’t sleep, I feel like I’m going to have a nightmare again.”
-Can I take your hand?
- Don't touch me.
This time he shuddered, as if he found some other, terrible meaning in my phrase. I frowned slightly and sighed quietly. He's grumbling again, which means he's already fine.
– Do you want me to stay with you until you fall asleep again?
-...
There was no answer. After a moment's hesitation, I sat upright on the floor next to the bed. The round figure flinched at the noise I made, but he didn't shout at me to leave.
When I sat down, I didn’t know what to say next. I bent my knees and pressed them to my chest, wrapping my arms around them. He also remained silent. I could hear his uneven breathing, which was becoming calmer, and I understood that he was feeling better.
Not knowing what to do, I wrung my fingers. Suddenly a thin ray of light covered my hand. I raised my head and saw moonlight pouring through the gap in the curtains onto the floor. My gaze went from the light on the floor to the yellow moon outside the window.
So weak, but beautiful. He was the only one who diluted this darkness of the night. It seemed that all I had to do was reach out and I would touch it. But it is impossible to touch the Moon. Even knowing this, I continued to put my hands under this tiny ray.
So quiet.
And so calm.
I don't know if I've ever felt such peace in my life.
“When I was younger, my sister also had nightmares.
I unconsciously bit my lip. It was so strange to break this silence. Without expecting this, I spoke, but Vincent did not stop me.
“My sister was the second child in the family, and after a nightmare she woke me up screaming: “Big sister, big sister!”
She was a gentle child. Unlike me, she had a beautiful face, and she always followed me around smiling sweetly at me. She called me big sister and it was so nice.
My sister seemed so sweet to me, and at the same time I felt sorry for her. Such a beautiful child was born in terrible poverty. My father often looked at her, as if wondering what to do with his young and beautiful second child.
Even when my sister was very young, she seemed to understand what awaited her in the future. She often woke me up crying and tossing and turning in her sleep. She probably had nightmares every night. I hugged her, stroked her back, and we held hands.
It's worth doing this now.
His hand peeked out from under the sheet, and I covered it with mine. I felt him shudder from the unexpected touch. His hand was so cold, so I squeezed it gently.
“Every time she woke up from a nightmare, I held her hand like this. Then she felt better and fell asleep again.
My sister squeezed my hand and closed her eyes. She fell asleep with tears streaming down her cheeks, relying only on a piece of my warmth. I stroked my sister on the back of my hand, as if to calm her down, sharing her fears with her.
And I told her: “Dreams are just dreams, you have nothing to be afraid of. I'm nearby. The fact that you are here with me is reality.”
Looking back, this was not the best consolation, because the reality was even more terrible, but my good sister nodded and fell asleep in her arms.
Until soon she was sold to a brothel.
“They say that everything you see in a dream should be left in the dream itself,” I said, “no matter whether you saw a frightening past or something that might happen.” Just think of it as a dream that means nothing. And if it doesn’t work out, then you can come to terms with your past and try to avoid the future that you fear.
Then I stopped. I'm too dreamy again.
Reality is not a fairy tale. It is not beautiful and there are no amazing adventures in it. At least there weren't any in my life.
I didn’t make the same bold decisions that the main characters in books make. That's why I couldn't help my sister before she was sold to a brothel. I didn’t show her the miracle - I didn’t grab her trembling hand and run away from that house.
Even knowing that they were going to sell my dear sister to a brothel, I did nothing.
“It’s okay sis, I’m fine.”
A good and beautiful girl consoled her ugly sister. All I could do was grieve for my departed sister and hope that she would find happiness.
The next year I found out that she had died. They said the cause of death was illness. But in reality she was beaten to death. When I saw my sister again, her face was devastated. Her entire body was bruised and swollen, especially in her crotch. I almost didn’t recognize my sister, her face had changed so much.
I buried her myself, without my father’s knowledge. It wasn't even a funeral. I buried it next to where my youngest was buried and placed some beautiful flowers on the fresh grave. Soon after this, the grave of the fourth child from our family appeared nearby.
I survived the death of my brothers and sisters by simply turning a blind eye to their misfortunes.
I was a terrible, simply terrible sister.
- How can I do this?
The voice brought me out of my thoughts. I could still feel Vincent's hand shaking, but it felt different now.