Markirella (A Septiplier + Cinderella Story)

The Invitation and the Deal

Mark's POV:

      I CAN'T fucking believe those guys– making me their fucking SLAVE?! Who the fuck even DOES that?! It was the end of my first day as Sir Joseph's servant, cuts and bruises lightly scattered across my skin from hard work and abuse. Tears steadily streamed down my face as I looked up at the stars from the barred-over single basement window.

      "Mom," I croaked out into the night sky. "Please come back to me... Please, I need you! Your colorful little boy is scared.. I'm in PAIN, Mommy, they HURT me!" I didn't care if I was a 17-year-old whining like a little baby.. My bright hair had turned deep blue; meaning despair.

       I picked up my fedora from the floor and looked at it as my dark brown eyes got flooded by my sorrowed heart. Anger and frustration took over for a quick moment, causing me to throw the hat at the opposite wall. Then, I wailed out once again to my mother:

       "COME BACK!... I don't know how long I can hold up like this.. Please, let tomorrow be a better day." I wiped my nose with the weird brown sack-thing they made me wear and curled up in the darkness– alone and afraid– then cried myself to sleep.

******

       Bang, bang, bang, bang! "GET UP! WAKE UP, YOU LITTLE SHIT AND MAKE US BREAKFAST!" This is how I woke up the next morning; getting screamed at and harsh pounding fists on the door– nearly gave me a fucking heart attack!

       "Yes sir," I called up. "Right away, sir!" I dashed up the little stairs, through the big door, into the main house, and straight to the kitchen. He never said what they wanted, so I made them eggs with bacon and small pancakes. The entire time I was cooking their food, they continuously screamed for me to hurry up and insulted me many times from their bedrooms. To believe this is MY house..

       When I'd finished plating their food and placed a cup of coffee on Sir Joseph's tray, I hurried into my— or should I say "the boys'" room— to give the two dickheads their breakfast trays.

       "What the fuck took you so long, Pet?" Cry grumped, mask still on his face.

      "Yeah," Felix added. "If you'd taken any longer, I would've had Fathe-." He stopped and looked at the plate closely.

       "What's wrong, Mr. Felix?" I asked– Sir Joseph told me yesterday to address his sons as Mr. Felix and Mr. Cry.

       "How DARE you?!" he shouted, knocking his tray off the side table with a loud CRASH. Noooo! I'd worked so hard to make that.. Sir Joseph will have my head if he sees this mess, AND if Felix tells him I upset him! "EGGS?! Didn't Father tell you that I don't like eggs?"

       "N-No," I answered weakly, shakily stooping down to clean up the mess on the floor.

       "YOU STUPID LITTLE INSIGNIFICANT SLUT! You can bet that Father will hear about this.. He'll make sure you NEVER upset me EVER AGAIN!" Felix got up out of bed and walked up to me as he spoke; when he said "again", he kicked me hard in the ribs.

       "Ow!" I yelped, gripping my side as I continued cleaning up the last of the eggs from the floor. "Please, stop."

       "MARK! GET YOUR ASS IN HERE AND BRING ME MY FUCKING FOOD, GODDAMN IT!" Sir Joseph's voice boomed from my parents' room (now his), scaring the ever-living Hell out of me. I quickly picked up his tray and Felix's tray, then rushed off to him. The two assholes were laughing at me as I ran.