Belladonna

13

I realised I couldn't balance a tray of lemon tea and biscuits while bending down to grab the newspaper. So, I set the tray down. The glass scraped against the stone of the front step, making a rough grating sound.

Having a regular newspaper to read is becoming a nice habit, something I can definitely see myself getting used to.

I can only hope that this time, the person we shall-not-talk-about-under-any-circumstances will not interrupt me, taking the newspaper with her in doing so. This time, I have food and drink also, so we're set for at least fifteen minutes of peace. I sit in my usual chair on the patio, trying not to mind when the sunlight I'm seeking is partially covered by a cloud, the area growing rather dull.

Instead, I try to focus on the newspaper, and it's front page. Last time, I didn't think it was a bit boring. I thought it was extremely boring, so boring that I nearly withered away, leaving only my skeleton behind.

But boring only lasts so long till something entertaining comes along, and depending on what cards life wants to deal you, it's nothing always good.

Don't know what I'm talking about?

Take this week's headline as a lesson that the amusement I seek is not always fun, bright, sunny, or positive.

Several schools closed for investigations after the devastating bombing of a local girls' school.

I blink, wondering if it's a good idea to even read on. While things like this are always interesting, it can always leave me feeling a little shaken afterward. Who on Earth would bomb a school—why, it's merely barbaric. A school never really hurt anyone, not really. I think going to a real school would be the most great fun—sure, there are lessons, but you also have friends, and it's what shapes your earliest friendships.

What cold-blooded individual devoid of any remorse would want to do such a thing?

Maybe it's a good thing Katherine didn't decide to send me to school. Although I have seen scant evidence of an incoming governess to teach me, yet I am not complaining.

I take a quick glance at the article, my eyes scanning briefly over some parts.

Two words keep jumping out at me, and I feel something deep in my stomach, and it's sickening.

Injured, dead.

I decide society is not quite right the way it is. Maybe it never will be—not when there're people who exist who only want to destroy everything. And the worst thing about it is that as the headline pulls me into reading the entire article word for word, start to finish, I can't find a name, can't find who is responsible, can't find a person for me to direct all my anger and hatred towards.

"This is rubbish," I tell myself, shaking my head slowly. "Absolutely rubbish."

I flick over the pages, looking for something boring to read. Yes, looking for something so boring that it's brain-numbing, so boring that it distracts me, which is my ultimate aim. The door opens, and I peer closely at the newspaper to make myself look busy. Whenever I look to see who it is, I have the most dreadful luck. "Ah!" I say aloud to myself, loud enough for any passing individuals to hear. "Politics, how delightful. Joy upon joys."

"I take it you don't like politics then, Miss?" I look up from the paper, surprised that it's not Katherine. Bad luck seems to be sick of me, most relievingly. "What?" I say like an idiot, looking at the man whose name I've forgotten. I think he's supposed to be my father, but I've seen so little of him that I sort of, maybe forgot.

"You're reading the newspaper," he says, smiling a little. "That's nice to see. I didn't think the youth were still interested." My lips part slightly with surprise. "The newspaper was nearly as valuable as gold where I come from," I tell him, shrugging lightly. "It's nice to have it all to yourself; get to it while the news is still fresh." "Yes," he agrees with me. "But it appears you've beat me to it, no?" "Well, if you want it—" "No, it's alright," he says, shaking his head. "May I sit down?"