The Demon's Travels. Sanctum.

I Have My Last Supper.

I spent about three months working at the Winston Manor.  It was an odd life, but strangely enough perhaps the most wholesome part of my life I can recall when taking everything else before then into account. 

My parents were not individuals who I respected, nor were they people I particularly loved. The main reason was that they saw their kids as more of an investment than actual kids. 

My mother was a famous surgeon, while my father was a researcher in Medicine. Both were so great in their fields they ended up being immensely famous, with hundreds of published books on their research, not to mention plenty of time on the chairs of talk show hosts like Stephen Colbert and Jimmy Kimmel, and news interviews like 60 Minutes and CNN with Larry King.  

Ultimately they got married because they saw the benefit the both of them could provide to each other's careers. 

They saw me and my sister only as employees to continue the family legacy, and from an early age they attempted to train us in fields they thought would continue to enhance the family name.  My sister, their perfect angel, became a famous actress. 

Me, well, I didn't have the capability in any of the fields my parents wanted for me. I excelled in arts and writing poetry. Those were my talents, and while my parents did attempt to put me down the path of a young celebrity Da Vinci, I ultimately disappointed them when I refused to do fine arts and instead opted to drawing manga and super hero comics.  The next thing I knew, my parents sat me down at age fourteen in one of their offices, and said that they were letting me go. Yeah you heard right. My parents disowned me like they were firing one of their employees. 

So it's safe to say that I didn't know what it was like to have a real family. That is until I came to the Winston Manor. 

In spite of Agnese and Selsa being the only ones related to her by blood, Abby treated me with equal love and affection to the point where it was like I was also her granddaughter.  

Agnese would eagerly seek me out whenever we were on break, and we'd play chess or Monopoly, which I myself introduced to Agnese by taking some card board, drawing on it with a marker and cutting out some fake money out of the large supply of printer paper in the backroom offices. 

Selsa would constantly teach and encourage me throughout the tougher parts of my job, showing me precisely how to clean the windows and scrub the floors efficiently without overusing my stamina. She was a gentle voice of reason to me, even though she seemed to match my biological sister in terms of sarcastic humor.  

For the first week, I was surprised at how well they treated me. But after a month, I couldn't imagine life without them. 

As for Mr. Winston, he was an enigma to me. He was friendly enough during regular mealtimes and whenever I passed him in the halls, but he never really seemed to sync with the Maid Twins or Abby.  While he did kiss his wife, hug his step-grandkids, he never really stuck around for long, even leaving after 10 minutes into our family meals to go to his 'meetings' whatever those were. 

Plus come to think of it, what kind of Grandpa, step-parent or not, pays his grand kids to be his maids? 

Well every society was different right? And I happened to be living in an entirely different world, so who was I to complain or be suspicious?

Getting used to being a female was perhaps the hardest part of my new life. Learning to wear a bra, and to deal with a host of new biological functions, such as that one brilliant moment at the end of each month where I bleed out of my butt, was it's own form of hell. 

I count myself lucky I had somebody like Selsa who didn't laugh when she had to handhold me on how to roll a tampon correctly. 

And getting used to my clothing, oh man.  Wearing a skirt made me want to die plenty of times, especially when I had to go out shopping in the nearby towns for ingredients with the twins.  It felt like I was always walking around in my underwear, especially on breezy days where I felt the wind go between my legs. I was too used to wearing something substantial, like pants or shorts.