When I opened my eyes, I was sitting on a wooden floor, my cheek stinging. An old, drunken man towered over me, hatred clear in his eyes. It was my father, my horrible, horrible father.
My heart began thumping, blood soaring. "I'll kill you, asshole!" I yelled. "I'll stab you, I'll rip out your guts, I'll drown you in that wine you like so much! I'll fucking-!" I'd scrabbled my way to my feet before launching myself at him, but all he'd done is raise a hand, catching me by my neck. He squeezed lightly, yet even that made me struggle for a gasp.
He burst out laughing, but he made it clear it was not happiness. "You, kill me? Try speaking when you kill an insect, you rotten little child. If only I'd never slept with your mother, you'd never be around." He threw me away, to slide across a well-polished, yet empty, corridor floor.
My breath came slowly, in bursts first, and then it calmed down, which is when I first realised this: The last time I'd seen my father, his grey-haired corpse was flung into an open grave. So why did he look so young? Even before that, why was I back home?
Footsteps echoed throughout the hall, and when I looked at their source, a familiar man looked at me. Around two decades younger than I'd last seen him, Harry rushed towards me, a worried expression etched onto his face.
"Young master, are you alright?" He was worried, his lips moving behind that hideous caterpillar he refused to shave. His skin, it felt so smooth.
"I'm sorry," I said, rubbing at my eyes. My knuckles came out wet, and it didn't seem to escape his notice.
He grabbed my shoulders, pulling his face towards mine. "You can tell me if your father hurt you. I'll make sure he doesn't see tomorrow's Sun."
Speaking of, where was he? I didn't notice him leaving, but he wasn't there anymore.
"No, don't worry about it," I said. If Harry wanted to, he could send my father to the Imperial Prison, but then I'd lose this house. Plus, I wanted to see his face dead by my own hands.
"Then, is there anything else I can do for you?"
Just as I was about to say something, my stomach rumbled. "I'll take some lunch, please."
Again, he looked at me and said, "If you are unwell-"
"I'm fine. Bring it to my room, as well." He nodded, leaving down the corridor. He looked back over his shoulder.
Standing up, I walked through many empty corridors, each odorous with the smell of money. And yet, I saw no other servant even when I had entered my room, finding that I did not, in fact, miss this place one bit. Upon entering, I shivered at the lack of a mess. I spent hours in here, studying to attend Olympus, the top of the Hero Academies. When boredom took over, I cleaned the room, keeping it in tip-top shape.
I kicked over a stack of books. Damn, watching those pieces of paper fall around me, I couldn't help but wonder why I'd never done this before. Laughter erupted from my mouth, and only after it faded away did I realise it was of joy.
Just as fast, it was replaced by something quieter, as I reflected. What right did I have to be happy?
To change what I did, I needed strength. Enough strength to be listened to, and for that, I needed to work for it. Patting my large stomach, I thought about the best method I knew. He hadn't taught me this, but maybe I could follow what he did.
First up, forty push-ups...
One, two, three... four... five...
Crashing to the ground, I thought, 'Was I really this weak?' Unfortunately, it made sense. With a short break, I continued, going at this for almost ten minutes before a knock came from my door.
I stood up, panting, and walked over. "Who is it?" I said, waiting to open the door.
"It is just me, young master," Harry called out, his warm voice muffled. "I've brought your lunch."
Opening the door, I could smell what he brought. As it widened, I could see it was some kind of duck, cooked to a crispy golden brown outside. Knowing him, he'd have stuffed it as well, and just the thought of that was making my mouth water.
With speed, he placed it down on a low table positioned between two sofas. "Is there anything else?" he said, backing away.
I shook my head, my eyes stuck on the duck. It was calling me, and I was answering, my steps light as I sat down and cut into the meal. As expected of Harry, the duck was still juicy but cooked all the way through. My stomach churned at the sight. I swallowed saliva before I put a piece in my mouth. With that, I melted into the couch, my soul departing from this world...
No. I had to stay here. Prevent the world's destruction, and-
"What are you?" Harry's voice was pleasant, calm. Harmless, if not for the knife touching my throat.