Your Loyal Servant

(9) Do You Know What You Started?

His silver eyes didn't dare to rise from the ground as he remained silent, just standing before me, bowing. He acted like this was a daily occurrence, and that no one in the world would think this was strange.

Time seemed to slow down. That was often the case when either you started to watch the clock, or every eye in the vicinity was trained on you. And in that agonizingly long moment, everyone was staring at me, and the man bowing before me.

Clenching my fists at my sides, I demanded, "What the hell are you doing here?"

"I am greeting you, ma'am," he replied, straightening from his bow.

My eyes narrowed and my lips pursed. I tried a different question: "Why are you here?"

His eyes flickered towards my best friends, who stood behind me, watching him in confused fascination. When he glanced back at me, he answered bitterly, "I failed to protect you, Ms. Orrie. I failed in my duty, and in one of the most important aspects. I refuse to allow any more harm to come to you."

"So you decided to come to my school?" I inquired, an eyebrow quirked in incredulity.

He nodded. "Yes."

I felt ready to explode. My head was beginning to pound from the sudden intense rush of blood, and my veins had been infected with such immense choler it brought my blood to a boil. I had to take several breaths to refrain from screaming so loud I'd make anyone near me go deaf, or from beating the idiotic pulp out of Mr. Freak.

Hushing a frustrated shriek so it sounded more like a squeaking groan, I turned away from him to gain my bearings. Once I had some semblance of tranquility, I requested sternly, "May I speak to you for a moment, in private, please?"

"Of course, ma'am," he said with an obedient nod and a small smile.

I grabbed his arm and dragged him away from the curious and judgmental stares, ignoring the whispers that were beginning to circulate through the crowds. Once we were in the shadows, away from eyes and ears, I gave him my most ferocious glare.

Freaky released a quiet sigh. It wasn't impatient or as though he knew what was to come was pointless. It was self-deprecating, a silent sound of reprimand. But he kept his mouth shut—which was the smart thing to do.

"What is your problem?" I asked, trying to keep my voice to a whisper, so I sounded like I had just inhaled a bunch of helium. I cleared my throat. "Do you have any idea what you just did? Do you know what you started?"

He hung his head in shame. He confessed, "I'm afraid I am not aware of the consequences of my actions."

Groaning, I pinned him with another murderous look. I informed him, tone dripping with ire, "Because you came in here, bowing to me and calling me mistress, everyone is going to call me a freak."

He cocked his head to the right, brows furrowed. He questioned, genuinely baffled, "Why would they call you a freak?"

I gave him a dubious look. "Are you kidding me?" I took in a quick breath to bring my voice back to a whisper. "I don't know if you've noticed, or if you're even aware of this, but it's sort of weird for people to have servants nowadays. And it's even weirder to have someone bow before you, unless you're royalty. And royalty I am not."

"But I must continue my duty," he insisted, eyes pleading.

Crossing my arms, I remained adamant. "No."

"At least let me prove to you I am still worthy of being your servant," he begged, stepping closer. "I realize no matter how hard I try, I will never be worthy enough to serve you, but let me make up this lapse of duty to you."