Evil I Become...

Chapter 1

Hey, Guys welcome to Evil I Become... Version 2.0!

If you haven't read the first version (which is still available) then DO NOT PANIC you have missed nothing. This is an updated version of the story with the same basic storyline.

Eagle-eyed readers will notice that not much will have changed in the begining but trust me later things will be quite different. As i mentioned the same basic storyline still exists just with character and setting tweaks as well as other changes.

Hope you enjoy!

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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 also serving as a towel. After replacing the rag, sorry towel, carefully where I found it, the overweight and overconfident cook handed me a basket with yet more clothes in it.

I knew what was coming, yet she was my boss so I listened.  “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 for the way she treated everyone, she deserved it.

If only she knew the truth then she’d change her mind. She’d change her entire attitude about everything she has ever laid eyes on.

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 to after all she was Duchessa Arianna of Venice. How did i end up in the kitchen? Well here’s how.

 Mother never said a bad word about my father but I never knew who he was. His identity remained a mystery to me but I thought that if she couldn’t tell me who he was then that’s why I had to live as a serving boy in the castle.

Here under ancient law, it was illegal to have a child before marriage. Which is exactly what I am, a child conceived and born out of wedlock.

Yet I can’t complain. Walking through the town the buildings are all made of mud, clay and straw and  at least I didn’t have to build my own house. I was far luckier than most, despite my frowned upon heritage.

I finished all the washing and realised that at this time my step-father would be in his room reading just as he was everyday. He called it 'me time' but I couldn’t care less. You’d 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 or my well being, only that his supper was delivered on time.

I hated him; I didn’t understand why mother loved him or even entertained his presence.

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 lay a hand on me; he knew she cared for me in a way nobody did. That she was close to me eventhough he didn’t know the true reason for it.

That was because mother made up a story that she 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 and my origins. They’d drag their children away from me afraid that because I was an 'orphan' I’d be a bad influence. That I would corrupt their children into evil.

 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 anyone who stepped within three feet of those pies.

Which was more often than not. Me.