Contracting Lillian

Chapter 8

I had searched around the house for who knows how long. I found the workout room that consisted of less things that the one I had at home did. I didn’t mind it though. I relinquished the feeling of being gone from my father’s strict ways. Here I was, enjoying my new home with two men who would feel possibly every desire that I wanted to be a normal female. The only time I hadn’t felt grateful about was the lack of having children. I have never given a single thought about having a child nor had I dealt with one of the critters. I didn’t think I was very mother material, if that’s what you’d wish to call it.

I had found myself in a parlor, a place where sofas lined the whole room and a large Tv to be found hung on the opposite wall for people to watch. I had seen our own parlor before, never allowed to go in there to watch films that I sometimes desperately wanted to see. But of course, just like every little thing that had been sheltered and cut out of my life, wasn’t allowed. My father made me into some born dress up doll who always trained to be some sort of weapon. I wondered what I would be like in five years from now. Would I be sheltered? Would I be my step-sibling’s bodyguard? Is that what I was training for?

I had truly wondered what was to come of my life.

Amilios called my name, “Lillian.”

I turned and looked up at him, he stood in the threshold of the parlor and hallway. “Yes?” I returned questioningly.

“What are you wondering about?”

“Just searching the grounds, I guess.”

“What would you like to eat tonight?” he asked.

I gave him a weary look. I had never been asked for my opinion, for my personal want, for my pleasure. “I honestly have no clue.”

“Well, since your gluten free-”

“Don’t worry about it. I can make myself something separate. No worries,” I assured.

“What is wrong, my princess?”

I didn’t think anything was wrong, was there? I had my emotions controlled quite well. “Nothings wrong. Why do you think so?”

“You feel obligated to make yourself something when we want to treat you with what you’d want to eat yet you still seem oblivious to the fact that we want to get you something that you deserve.”

“I guess I feel odd,” I admitted finally. “My father,” I paused and I felt my anger swirl. An idea spiraled forward, causing me to pray for it to happen. If he died, I wouldn’t go to his funeral and I wouldn’t shed a single tear my dearest father.

“What about him?”

“I wish he was dead,” I said aloud, not caring if Amilios was concerned with my thoughts.

“Do you truly wish or are you angered?”

I looked into his eyes. “He made a weapon and one day, he’ll be the karama for what he turned me into.”

“Let us not think about it, princess.”

“I can’t help it.”

“Let’s find Milo and we’ll figure out something to eat tonight.”

I followed beside him. In little time, we found him in his office, a cup of something unknown on his desk and computer in front of him. He glanced up and brushed us off before typing more onto his computer. I rounded his desk curiously, looking over his shoulder and watching him type an email out before sending it. He opened up excel’s that seemed to have numbers that I couldn’t come to comprehend. I straightened and sat off to his right, looking at his concentrating figure.