Yukari!!!!" ugh! I hated the tone my foster-mother used to get me up, it was gross, almost sing-songish yet not quite. The only way to shut her up would be to get out of bed, which i would not do, after all last night the dang women kept me up till 5 A.M. What time was it rite now? i turn over in my bed to check the sun-dial- UGH! Only 2 hours two hours of sleep and she wants me up?
"Yukari, time to get up, child." She pulled the covers off of me.
"Alright. I'm Up. See my eyes are open and im having a conversation with you. and i ain't going to get out of bed if you drop a bucket of cold water on me." I mumble......Did i just say that to her? aw crap, to late i realize what I've done. In walks Yuri, my foster-mothers real son, with a big bucket of cold water, i don't know if it's just me, but i see ice in there.
"Good boy!" She purrs, suddenly her voice turns venomous."Now dump it on this ungrateful brat! I take her in," More like you were forced to by the Kings council. "I feed her," Yeah, left overs from a week ago, which you throw on the floor and expect me to eat. "I clothe her," Clothes you take from trashcans, and then when others ask why you say you always try to get me to wear better clothes but i just don't listen. "I send her to school," Only because you worry about what others would think. "I take the time to wake her up," Isn't that so i could do all your chores for you? "and she still dares act like this? Tsk tsk. honestly child, since today's a special day i was going to let you go for your behavior but you had to didn't you?" she pulls out a wooden spoon from seemingly nowhere, and wackes me on top the head. "Now, repeat after me,'Ain't ain't a word, and I ain't going to use it'." I fight not to glare.
"Ain't" i start through grinding teeth. "Is a word, and I'm gonna use it."
Darkness. My head hurts. I hear a neigh. Painfully I get up and peel my eyelids of my eyes. Why am i in the stables? My wet clothes ar sticky, and i can tell I've been laying horse droppings.
"You're awake?" I know that voice, soft, always soft it was as if it didn't know how to go higher, absent, as if there was something far away that needed the voices attention, one of the many reasons m foster-mother hated me, see the thing with the voice was it only talked to those who the voice thought were significant enough to talk to, the voice always talked to me but kept quite around my foster-mother. Awesome, right? WRONG! See when i first came here, at about seven, the voice would never shut up, always telling me how the fireplace, the mill, or some other machine worked, as result my foster-mother took every chance to inflict harm to me, even when i did no wrong, eventually, when the voice was 13 and I 10, it learned not to speak to me around my foster-mother. But see here I don't blame the voice, oh no, the voice is the only person i care about, my only frie- wait, thats not right to me the voice is like an older brother. And quite some time ago, it was clear that the voice thought of me as a little sister that needed protecting, when i was eight some of the children of my foster-mothers friends would throw hard, painful, and disgusting objects at me, such as dried cow dung, but at those times the voice would stand in front of me so that everything hit him, but the voice wasn't always there, they would always find away for him not to see what was happening.
"F ye' 'al ling 'i'e me' 'e'd 's go'ng ta' 'xp'ode, 'eing 't, 'tick', nd' 'ot ta' 'ensin 'ofered 'n 'ay n' flung 'w'ke, 'h 's 'm 'w'ke." Flinch. "On' lam yerselves," I blink, okay i do talk improper, and i talk really improper to my foster-mother but, what the heck im not hurt that bad am I?
.............I'll Reply....Some Day....Maybe.....