A Father's Love

The Window

Time passed so strangely in the Delightful Mansion. Most of Hugh's day was dictated by deadlines: breakfast, lunch, and dinner were the markers that he strove to keep track of, and somehow he had managed to meet every one of them. But the moments in between are where things really started to blur. So far, he'd had no luck trying to make sense of it all.

There was something otherworldly about Father. It was more than the fact that the man was a walking shadow-- it was that Hugh very rarely heard him coming when he would just suddenly appear. The rare instances where he could be found outside of the room Hugh assumed was his office came with no warning. One moment, Hugh was putting away dishes and the next he was peeling himself off the counter, dazed and confused as Father wandered off.

Or worse, like the time when he had been searching for something he dropped, he'd felt his feet stretched out across his back, crossed at the ankles. He had looked up to see Father there where he had not been a moment before, seated comfortably in an overstuffed den chair. He didn't know what to do-- how was he supposed to respond? He couldn't very well throw him off, but the longer he sat there, on his hands and knees with that stunned look on his face, the more smug the air about Father had become.

It was infuriating.

It had happened just the day before, on the evening that marked his first week working for Father as complete. An entire week of doing everything he could to make sure he was fulfilling his duties, and dealing with-- damn it all, he didn't know what he was dealing with. But he had managed to scramble away and fled the room with the sound of Father's laughter at his back.

Just thinking about it made his face burn as he began to yank at the rubber gloves he was wearing. The ballroom was his latest task that he had given himself; he was on his way to get a ladder to scrub the walls to keep himself from climbing them. Maybe if the mansion was in presentable condition, Father could invite some kind of company to entertain him, instead of tormenting Hugh all day.

Something caught his eye as he entered the West corridor. Squinting against the low lights, he stepped closer to the wall where a red button flickered above a small panel: on and off, on and off.

"Wait a minute..." His eyes narrowed. He knew that logo. It was a security system.

It was the emergency switch, a simple mechanism to be accessed from inside of the house to lockdown in a moment's notice. He snorted as he recalled how easy it was to trip in the midst of his cleaning frenzies back home. Here, in the sprawling, shady hallways, it was much easier to miss.

Hugh glanced across the way to the shuttered windows. Maybe it would be easier if Father couldn't skulk around in the dark. If anything, the danger was coming from inside the house.

He rolled his eyes at the thought and jammed his thumb against the button. The blare of the siren made his heart seize as a femininine computer voice spoke over the sound of metal slamming open across the property:

"Home Defense Disengaged."

The hand that had flown up to his chest instead moved to cover his eyes as sunlight poured in. It dawned on him that it was his first time seeing it since he had arrived. Now, with a new perspective, he could see the mansion for what it was. Everything was trimmed with gold, from the curtains to the embroidery in the rug, against a rich wine red color scheme with the occasional accent of soft pastel blue and pink.

It wasn't what he had been expecting. It was almost charming.

Almost.

But a new problem had presented itself. Every single one of those window panes were filthy. A gift and a curse.