Throwing the brushes away from me, I felt like punching the canvas in front of me. Nothing was formulating in that mind of mine, a mind that used to be very creative but now seemed as dark and hollow as the rest of me. I glare at the canvas, at the ugly hallway painting I wanted to change but everything that I painted only came out uglier than the last. I was now staring at what looked like a face clawing its skin out and frown. Had I really painted that? I place my hand in black paint and smudge it all over the hideous painting that was a portrayal of how I felt after all the attempts to make beautiful artwork but every time ending up with one scarier and uglier than the last. It was mirroring how I felt I realised after a moment of glaring at the smudged canvas, who I felt I was.

A knock at the door that was wide open, "the door is open," I don't look away from my canvas. Why couldn't I just paint something nice? Something mom would have painted?

"You don't have to knock," I dip a finger in the black paint and look up towards my guest.

Masud, his head hanging low as usual, "Sorry Ma'am but your dad demands of your presence downstairs," I tilt my head. I could really see him now. See the defined features of his face and how his nose was as strong and straight as that mighty jawline of his... but I still couldn't see his eyes.

"I'm not in the mood to be slapped thank you very much," his mouth twitched at the sides, daring to smile, daring to make a human emotion.

"I can't tell him that Ma'am."

"Well..." I stand up, my full height reaching his shoulders, "I suppose you can just tell him to piss on himself, it seems much more polite doesn't it?" His lips twitch again and he nods?

"Very polite indeed," So he could joke and he seemed less scared of me today which made me feel good that at least someone acted normal towards me. I had a mistress who didn't dare to utter a word to me downstairs, a dad I loathed and this young servant who didn't dare look me in the eyes.

"Look," I point towards the window and his head rises up to look at what I was pointing at, falling for my trick and as his eyes clash with mine I find myself speechless as I saw my next artwork in them. I take a step back utterly consumed by the beauty of his eyes, I had never seen anything like it. A brown and a blue iris? Not even looking abnormal against his tan skin but looking as if they belonged there, as if there was indeed nothing weird about two different coloured irises. I open my mouth but no words come out as I couldn't concentrate on what orb I was drowning in, the luring chocolate or the waves that seemed to want to drown me.

"H-How?" He looks down and I feel bad that I made him feel abnormal, made it look like he was a freak when it was the most beautiful thing I'd have laid my eyes upon.

"I'm sorry that seemed weird, I think it's beautiful, I just have never seen anything like it and was curious," he raises his head to look at me, actually look at me and he seemed to be reading me, stripping me with his eyes as he calculated something in his brain.

"Its a condition, it starts with H but I forgot the name," I nod taking a mental note to research what the condition was in the hundred of books in my suitcase that seemed to tire me at just the mere thought of arranging them.

He is about to incline his head towards the ground when I shake my head, "Don't do that, it makes me feel like an entitled person," he looks at me again with the same calculating eyes and slowly nods. Keeping his stare at me and not inclining it downwards. For a moment I am at loss of words but I somehow plunge myself out from the pools of his eyes.

"I'll come downstairs, you can go," he nods again, his lips set into a firm line and walks away.

I rush towards my new sketchbook that I hadn't opened yet to make a brief outline of what I was going to paint but a yellow sheet of paper falls onto my lap. I frown, I don't remember putting anything in there. I hadn't even ever opened the sketchbook yet.

"From mom..." I place it back in the sketchbook not wanting to read the rest of the letter. No-no I couldn't tamper with this sketchbook. It didn't feel right and I didn't want to read the note just yet. This was something she had given me. I couldn't tamper with it. I couldn't read it now when all I am is a bottle of anger, with no single remnant of love or forgiveness within myself. She gave this letter and sketchbook book to her daughter not this angry human storage. Not me... the old understanding me. And until I forgive myself and dispose of this anger she hated was only when I was going to read the note. It was sacred and I wanted every second of it to count.

I place the cold sketchbook on my cheek, imagining it was her hand and not an empty book and smile against its coldness that started to feel warm against my cheek, started to feel like home. I was going crazy but if it's to feel the warmth this house lacked then I'd gladly go crazy. Anger started boiling within me and as much as I tried to push it back, to not let it ruin this moment I couldn't help but remember why there was a lack of warmth. This mistress and his mister caused it. Locked me up alone in a cold cage to mourn for my mother alone as if she weren't important to him too, to let me slowly start going crazy.

I place the sketchbook underneath my pillow and shrug on my coat. Dad was waiting downstairs with a smile so broad I wanted to slap it off of him.

"You and Rose will go out today and tour the country."

"I don't feel like it, I'd rather be painting upstairs," his smile twitches, an act.

"It's an order, you will be accompanied by a guard," I look over at Masud who was drugging gardening tools from a beaten down shack outside.

"What about him?" I point towards him. Dad looks at him for a second too long and then back at me with a piercing stare.

"He isn't a guard, he is a servant."

"I don't care, he is the only one my age and I'm so lonely," the desperation and sweetness I managed to feign in my voice made a sympathetic smile frame his face. Disgusting.

"I'm sorry sweetheart, we'll get you to school soon and you won't be so lonely anymore," somehow he managed to sound like my old dad. The last pieces of him slowly dissolving into this man I couldn't recognise.

"But for now, is it alright if he is my friend? I just feel so lonely dad... so very lonely," My dad looks towards Masud with a wary look who is now plowing the garden. Like he wasn't certain about him.

"Sweety, Masud cannot be your friend," I puff out my bottom lip out. If even the slightest bit of my dad was inside this abomination then this look will definitely work on him.

He looks at me for a minute too long, his features softening and for that small minute I recognise him, my dad. And in that small minute I wanted to hug him and cry about mom together because he looked so exhausted, like he also wanted to cry about her too but couldn't, like he was also so tired of everything. But he was gone as fast as he came. Replaced with the cold general I resented.

"Sure, I suppose Masud can stay for some while if it makes you feel any less lonely," he turns on his heels and marches out without ever glancing back towards me. Dad used to give me and mom a goodbye hug before he left for work.

I look towards Rose who was smiling at me with her kohl smudged eyes that reminded me of mom and I wondered if dad was with Rose because he too was reminded of mom when he looked into her blue eyes. Replace the short black hair with long blonde hair and she'd have been looking more like my mom than me.

"Don't smile at me, we aren't that acquainted yet" how dare she remind me of my mom out of all people.

Her smile drops and she nods her head. Mom wouldn't have liked me treating someone like this. I look at her sad face that made my guts tighten... but mom wasn't here.

"Do you really want to go out? We could just stay inside and do what we got to do."

"Miss Emilia I'd love to be in my room, I'm not in the mood to go out anymore," anymore? That means I essentially ruined her mood with a single sentence. I didn't feel triumphant at that as I would have expected to.

"It's okay me neither," she doesn't meet my eyes as she walks towards the stairs, I descend down from the last two steps, giving her some room to pass or maybe because I didn't want to be near her.

"But you should go Miss Emilia, it seems like a lovely day today. I just want to read a book today," I nod and look towards Masud who was dropping seeds into tiny holes he had burrowed. I suppose what I told my dad was true and I was indeed lonely and befriending Masud wouldn't be so bad.

I look over to Rose, maybe even befriending her would cure my loneliness. But I couldn't look at a woman who slept with my dad right after the death of my mom as anything else but a whore. Maybe one day in the future when I wasn't filled with so much hate, I could maybe befriend her then. But I couldn't now because I resented her and her perfect blue eyes. So I walk towards Masud who was profoundly sweating and getting more tan under the summer heat.

"Take a break, we are going out," he nods but doesn't get up from his seed planting.

"Your dad informed me," I nod, he doesn't get up.

"Where would you like to go Miss Emilia?"

"Just call me Emilia," he gets up and pats off the dirty soil from his knees which does nothing to remove the stain on his blue pyjamas which I then notice was dirty with stains everywhere. I wanted to ask if he ever cleans them but that was a rude and entitled question so I just let my stare linger at the stain that looked peculiarly like dried blood near his left bicep. Maybe I could inquire about that?

"Okay Emilia, where would you like to go," he then finally looks at me, the brown iris seeming to stand out more in the sun that highlighted its golden flecks. The blue, outshined iris looking rather dark and stormy under the sun.

"Anywhere nice but doesn't have a lot of people? I'd like to take a look at that forest next to the house," calculating eyes again as if he was deriving a plan by just looking at me.

"Okay," I frown, such blatant replies. Its going to be hard being friends with him.

I decide to spark a conversation as he hauls the back garden door open which led directly to the forest, "you look nice today," He looks at me again and I offer a small smile.

"Thanks," blatant replies. My efforts drugged and buried in the soil.

I try again, "do you have friends?"

"Yes," I nod expecting more but he clearly thought yes was enough of an answer.

"What are their names?" He looks at me again with his stern expression before diverting his eyes ahead.

"I'd rather not say."

"Why?" he jumps over a branch and I imitate his action. I suspected we were following the burbling of a water body nearby.

"I'd like to keep my personal life to myself."

"But I just want to be friends."

"I don't," that was mean and actually hurt my feelings a little but I restrain from prying on. A silent minute passes between us, the only sounds reaching my ears was the humming of the forest, the burbling water and our feet crunching over dead leaves. I decide I can't restrain myself and must find out the reason as to why he doesn't want to befriend me. Surely there was nothing wrong with me? I look down at my dress and my skinny exposed legs, maybe my appearance?

"Whats wrong with me?" He halts and turns to look at me again, his eyebrows scrunching together.

"What do you mean?" His eyes sweep up and down my figure which makes me wriggle in my spot. That was also rude. I was very insecure about myself and him just shamelessly letting his eyes sweep up and down to take in my insecurities was not a friendly thing to do.

"You look okay to me," he continues walking. Oh. He was searching for what was physically wrong with me.

"I mean what is wrong with me that you don't want to befriend me?"

"Hales you are a general's daughter, I am of a lower rank, a minority. You see why we can't be friends?" I frown. That was incompetent reasoning. Yeah I understood that he was part of the minority that were discriminated upon here and back home, even though it didn't make sense why considering they offered their land and home to us when we, the now proclaimed majority had no home. But surely that cant be the reason why he couldn't be friends with me? I mean it was understandable if he hated me for being more privileged then he was but- but that- that, "I don't hate you guys," I blurt out and quickly want to take it back when he looks at me with one of the sternest stares he had ever directed my way. We halt. The waterbody was glimmering from a mile away.

He walks closer to me and I take a step back, he stops, "and why would you hate 'us guys'?" He asks, a trap. I gulp down the persistent lump that formulated in my throat and shrug.

"Considering everyone hates you, I don't though," he tilts his head and looks at me as if he was seeing me for the first time again. His calculating eyes stripping me bare for him to read me like an open book. Again.

"Do you know why we wear this?" He gestures towards his uniform with the number on his pocket, I shake my head and his left eyebrow rises up.

"You really don't know?"

I shake my head again, "I assume it the servants attire here?" Both his eyebrows shoot up a further distance up and he distressingly looks around as if worried that someone may be listening to our rather bland conversation. I look around too but all I am met with is endless trees and branches.

"You are correct," I nod slowly but unsurely. His behaviour was rather weird.

"You are very correct and we can indeed be friends," he outstretches his hand towards me with a feline  smile and I gulp again.

"On second thought..." I eye his calloused hand and gulp again. He was scaring me and I didn't even realise I had been leaning against a tree until now.

"Oh," his face drops, "So you are like the rest of the them who look at us with indifference?" Another trap. I shake my head and slowly raise my hand to meet his. A replica of the interaction we had a day ago in my room, except then he was the one who seemed scared.

"Of course not," I return the same feline smile to him and notice the bruises that were scratching my palm for the first time.

And as we shake our hand in an alliance my gut wrenches some more. Maybe I was better off not forming this friendship.