Page 11 of Cruel King
“God, you are so rude! You know my house has no heat, and still you act like I’m some unwanted intruder, an interloper into your exclusive society where, of course, I don’t belong because I’m the daughter of the help. Isn’t that your real problem with me, Matthias?”
My emotions threaten to unspool inside me at any moment as I wait for his response. He doesn’t even give me the courtesy of looking me in the eye, like I’m not good enough to respect that much.
When he finally turns to face me, his stare is so full of pure hatred that I instinctively step back from him, afraid what he may do. He’s never been violent with me before, but we’ve never been alone like this before either.
We glare at one another for a long moment before he leans down and positions his face directly in front of mine. He’s so close I could kiss those perfect lips of his, if I wanted to, which I definitely don’t. I might want to smack his face, though. That he deserves.
And then he opens that beautiful mouth and out come the harshest words he’s ever said to me. “If you know you don’t belong, why do you keep coming here?”
Each cruel syllable feels like a sharp slap to my face. I step back as tears begin to fill my eyes and look away, not willing to give this person the right to see me cry. Yes, I’m the daughter of the man his father pays to run his estate. I’m the child of the help, and to someone like Matthias who was born with a silver spoon in his mouth, I’m not even worthy of kindness.
With the first tear, I run away. He doesn’t get to see how much his words hurt me.
I hurry down to the kitchen where Eleanor stands at the sink washing vegetables. My clothes aren’t dry yet, but I grab them off the rack anyway. I won’t stay in this house not a minute longer.
“What are you doing?” she asks, but I shake my head, unable to answer.
I slip my damp jeans on, hating how cold they feel against my skin even after sitting in front of the fire for all this time. But I don’t care if I have to walk home in soaking wet clothes. I won’t stay here anymore.
“What happened? You’re crying, Ava. Are you hurt?” Eleanor asks as she hurriedly dries her hands on a dishcloth and rushes over to me.
“I’m fine,” I say, lying.
I’m anything but fine after talking to that son of a bitch. At least now I know what his problem with me is. I never did anything to him, unless you count being born into a lower class.
He hates me because I’m the help.
“Why are you leaving? The heat isn’t back on in your house, and it’s practically a blizzard out there now. There has to be a foot of snow on the ground, and more is coming down every minute. You can’t leave in this weather.”
I grab my bra and shirt and turn away from Eleanor as I get dressed in the still wet clothes. “I won’t say here. I don’t belong. Matthias made that perfectly clear.”
Behind me, she lets out an audible sigh. “Oh, honey. Don’t pay him any attention. Mr. King wouldn’t want you to go back out in this storm and return to an ice-cold house.”
I shake my head as the tears return. Not wanting her to see, I lower my head and stare into the fire. “It doesn’t matter. I don’t belong here. I don’t need to give him another chance to make me feel unwelcome. I’ll go back to where I belong.”
At the touch of her hand on my arm, I can’t stop myself from crying. “Oh, Ava. Please don’t go. You could get hurt out there. Stay here with me, and I’ll make you something to eat. We can talk, and I can make you more hot chocolate. You don’t have to go.”
She means well, but what does it matter if one of the help tells the daughter of the help it’s okay? Eleanor and I are in the same boat here on the King estate. We’re not members of the family, so we’re not wanted, unless we can do something for them. At least she can, so she’s welcome.
All I am is the daughter of Mr. King’s estate manager. I serve no purpose at all here.
“No, I have to leave. Matthias made it clear I don’t belong here. Thank you for everything. I’m going to go. Don’t worry about me. It’s only a little ways down the road to my house, so I’ll be fine.”
As I put on my coat and hurry toward the back door, she says, “Ava, please! I’ll never be able to forgive myself if you get stuck out there. Stay!”
It’s no use. I can’t stay here. She may not be able to forgive herself if I’m found dead out in the snow, but the person who has the most right to be here out of all of us wouldn’t lose a moment’s sleep over it.
I’m just the help.
When I throw open the door to walk outside, the icy wind hits my face, instantly making my cheeks burn. The last thing I want to do right now is go out in this weather, but I have no choice, so I lower my head and slam the door behind me.
It’s so much worse than it was an hour ago when I arrived. The snow covers halfway up my shins, burying my feet and much of my calves. I’ve never wished I was wearing boots more than at this moment.
Big, fat snowflakes fall onto the top of my head, soaking my hair for the second time today. You’d think all the rage I have inside me right now would make me hot, but just a few steps in this blizzard and I’m freezing.
None of that matters. I don’t have a choice. I don’t belong at the King house, so back to my cold house it is. I need to call my father and tell him the repair guy needs to come out again. He’ll be unhappy since it’s the holidays and that electrician will charge double or triple time, but we can’t live without heat.
I slip my hand into my pocket to fish out my phone. I barely have five percent left on the charge, so I need to do this quickly. I move my hand to press the number one to speed dial him, but a blast of wind hits me, and I drop my phone in the snow. It falls into a snowbank in front of me, probably ruined from the cold and moisture.