• "Clean your god damn room, Matthew!"
    I flinched from the yell, turning my head towards the voice. Of course. My mother.
    "It is clean, Iggy. You can see the floor," I said, looking down at my floor.
    "It's a bloody barn in here! When was the last time you vacuumed?" he growled.
    "Two days ago. Remember? You bitched at me until you threatened to get out your belt." I frowned, not wanting to remember.
    "You should be vacuuming it every day! This room is disgusting!" He walked towards me and smacked me cleanly across the face. "Clean it! Now!" He spat the words at my face. He turned around and walked out, slamming my door.
    I sighed, rubbing my cheek. This was why I was living with Papa. He wouldn't b***h at me if I didn't clean. He'd accept my apology and move on. Iggy on the other hand is a monster when it comes to cleaning. If it's not cleaned his way, he gets furious.
    "Matthew Willams!" I heard Iggy yell. "Get your arse down here!"
    "Coming, mother," I spit through my teeth, full of sarcasm, and walked down the stairs.
    "What do you want now," I hissed at the Englishman.
    "I am leaving for tea time with my friends. You are to clean this whole house, make dinner, and be back in your room with no complaining by nine o'clock. Sharp. Alfred will be home around eight. You know how he gets when his food is cold. Get it done. Now," Iggy ordered, and walked out the door.
    I mumbled, "Snot nosed brat," under my breath. How the hell am I supposed to clean this whole house by nine?
    I look up the flowing staircase. That alone would take me half an hour to just vacuum each step. I glanced at the front room. That would take me another hour or two. I sighed. I checked the clock; noon. I had nine hours to clean. I looked down; Kumajirou was standing at my feet.
    I sniffled. "I miss Papa.." I whispered.
    "Who are you?" Kumajirou asked me. I shook my head. I didn't want to respond.
    I stared at the red velvet carpet on the floor of the corridor, when an idea flew into my brain. I ran up the marble staircase as fast as I possibly could, except my clumsiness took over. I slipped up the stairs, bashing my forehead into the railing. I swore under my breath, but stood up and kept running.
    I opened my bedroom door loudly and ran to my bed. I picked up the small cellphone; given to me by Iggy in case of an emergency. I dialed the number as quickly as I could, pressing the green "Send" button. I held the phone to my ear, trembling the slightest.
    "Bonjour?" the man said.
    "P-Papa.. it's me. M-Mattie," I whispered into the device.
    "Matthieu? Oh, Matthieu, it's you! Je vous ai manqué, Matthieu!" he squealed, excitedly.
    "I missed you too, Papa. L-Listen.. I have a question to ask you.." My breathing sped up, little gasps of air coming from my mouth.
    "Calm, Matthieu. Que devez-vous?" he asked, concern filling his voice.
    "I-I can't stay with Iggy anymore.. H-He treats me badly. I-I know you lost me to him, b-but I can't stay here any longer. I'm like their.. their maid or something. He always makes me clean the whole house, cook all the meals, and--" My eyes started to water. I wiped the tears away from my cheeks, trying to focus.
    "Matthieu." Francis's voice was stern.
    "O-Oui?" I asked, trembling. What if he said no?
    "Vous pouvez bien sûr. I have no problem with it. But.. what will happen when Arthur comes back and doesn't see you? Thinking you've run off on him. Running away with a lover. Hit by a bus while walking to the store. Dead." His voice cracked on the word dead.
    I shook my head. "He won't. He could care less about me. I'm unnoticed anyway. H-He doesn't love me." Now my voice cracked on the words love me. Nobody loved me.
    "Mon chérie. Don't ever say that. Je t'aime. Always." I heard the smile in his voice.
    "I love you too, Papa. Forever." I smiled as well.
    "I will be there in about an hour. More or less. Pack what you need. Vous voir bientôt," he said.
    The line went dead.
    "See you soon, Papa," I whispered, too late, a grin stretched from ear to ear.
    I was moving in with Papa.
    No more Iggy telling me what to do and not to do.
    No more Alfred eating everything in sight.
    No more starving.
    No more being treated like crap.
    No more being unloved.
    Papa doesn't do any of these things.
    That's why I love him the most.