Evil I Become... (FIRST VERSION)

Evil I Become...

Chapter 1

I folded up my step-fathers newly washed shirt and placed it in the 'clean' pile. “Last one, phew” I whispered to myself as I rubbed my hands dry on the white rag that also served as a towel. After replacing the rag, sorry towel, carefully where I found it the overweight, smelly cook handed me a basket with more clothes in it.

 I knew what was coming next but I stopped to listen anyway.

 “Well if you’ve done you little brat then wash these too!” This happened every time, I really wished that someone, someday would hit her with her own ladle after all she deserved it.

 If only she knew the truth then she’d change her mind.

No one was allowed to know the truth mother said, even though I didn’t understand why I couldn’t say any thing I loved my mother and would never disobey her.

 Not that I had a choice after all she was Duchessa Arianna of Venice.

 Mother never said a bad word about my father but I never knew who he was, at least not then anyway.

 His identity remained a mystery to me but I thought that if she couldn’t tell me who he was then that’s probably why I had to live as a serving boy in the castle.

 I knew it was illegal to have a child before marriage.

 But I can’t complain that much walking through the town the buildings are all made of mud and clay and at least I didn’t have to build my own house.

By the time I finished all the washing I realised that at this time every day my step-father would be in his room reading. He called it 'me time' but I couldn’t careless.

 You think that my mother would tell him that actually his serving boy was her son. But no, even he didn’t know he also didn’t have the slightest care for my identity only that his supper was delivered on time.

 I hated him; I didn’t understand why mother loved him.

 He was evil.

 Behind my mothers back he’d hit me if I did even the smallest thing wrong. But around mother he wouldn’t dare he knew she cared for me in a way nobody did.

 That was because we made up a story that my mother was walking alone in the garden which she did every day and found me in a woven basket near the fountain, no one questioned the story but I knew people had their suspicions about me.

 They’d drag their children away from me afraid that because I was an 'orphan' I’d be a bad influence.

 I never cared though I was happy as I was, well with the exception of Lea the cook.

Don’t be fooled by her name she may sound nice and bake excellent pies but in truth she was mean and spiteful to any one who stepped within three feet of those pies.

 Which was more often than not.

 Me.