Broken Past, Good Path

    The house on Fifth and West was nearly uninhabited or looked that way from the naked eye. On the inside was a different matter. The floorboards creaked as owners and servants moved inside, rushing from room to room, hanging birthday decorations in bright colors on the walls. The chatter increased in hushed whispers as there were questions about where to place certain foods and drinks. The multi-story house was unusually buzzing with excitement, different from its normal gloominess, that made everyone involved feel their hearts skip in their chest.                 Alexandra Labahn, head of the servants, stood in the middle of the main living room, tapping her heel as she inspected the work that was being done. It was the ninth birthday of the young mistress of the house and the lady of the house had given her the charge of making absolutely sure that everything went smoothly. Alexandra smoothed the front of her maids’ uniform, tsking at balloons that were out of place. She had a sour look on her face that made the servants scurry around her nervously. Alexandra flicked her hand, sending a servant whisking the balloons away. She turned ready to inspect something else when a glimpse of something shiny and green grabbed her attention.                 The lady of the house leaned on the wall just inside the threshold of the room, her arms crossed in front of her, a mocking smile placed delicately on her lips. The lady’s figure was small but with enough curves to stretch the shiny green fabric of her dress to make it seem as though the dress had been purposely made for her. It probably was, Alexandra mused, averting her eyes with her sour face turning darker. She mocks me for caring, she thought as she eyed a banner that was askew. With another flick of her hand the banner was placed perfectly upon the wall that it hung against. Her eyes roamed the room finding little else to fret about except for her lady that remained leaning against the wall. She was perhaps the only person who could give the lady such a sour expression on her face and not be fired on the spot. They were, in the closest sense, what you could call friends. However, their difference in social standing kept them from truly using the word with each other.                 The lady kept her mocking expression; however, Alexandra could see a few differences in her appearance. The lady’s brown hair, usually flawlessly styled, appeared to be lazily put together today. She couldn’t find the time to care, Alexandra told herself. She also noted that the lady’s eyes, which normally sparkled with life and vitality, currently held no vigor in them. Her entire appearance had altered by these few changes in Alexandra’s opinion. She also supposed that she was the only person who noticed such differences as she had a keen eye for noticing things that were out of place, and she was most likely the only person who knew why they were so on this very important day. The lady moved elegantly further inside the room, stopping an arm’s length in front of her, her mocking expression changing into a gentler one.                 “Come now, Alexandra! It is a glorious day to celebrate and yet you have this gloomy expression plastered on your face. Let James take over. I have something to discuss with you before the party begins,” The lady, Mrs. Dylan took one of her cold hands in hers, warming them instantly. Alexandra rolled her eyes over, finding James the butler standing to the side waiting to be of use. James's tall and slender build was domineering as she figured every butler’s appearance should be. She didn’t have the time to argue as the lady led her away from the room, taking the servant’s corridor up to the second floor. They reached a small study near the back of the house when finally, Mrs. Dylan dropped her hand to close the door behind them. Alexandra was all too familiar with the lady’s office. It smelled of sandalwood and vanilla. Every inch of wall was covered with bookcases that were filled from top to bottom with worn books that looked as though they had been opened and closed every day since they were made and none of which held a speck of dust. Alexandra watched as the lady turned the lock on the door, dropped her perfected elegant pose, and walked behind her desk.                 Mrs. Dylan used thin fingers to swiftly pull out an envelope from the top drawer, withdraw a letter from inside and pick up a writing utensil. She scribbled a few lines, folded the letter once more and slid it back into the envelope, her eyes gliding up to meet Alexandra’s. The bright green orbs that matched the shade of her dress perfectly gleamed with unshed tears. Alexandra dropped her armor, moved around the desk to place two comforting arms on the lady’s shoulders.                 “My lady, we don’t have to do this. We can find another way,” Alexandra stifled a cry, knowing that her attempts at changing her lady’s mind were futile like the last one hundred times she had tried. The room fell silent, giving Alexandra time to look around the room once more. Everything was in the order it should be, not a single book out of place. Only the envelope was left on the top of the desk, out of place.                 “No. It has to be this way,” When the lady spoke again it was with a firm determination. Alexandra nodded even though she knew that the lady couldn’t see her. “The wax, please.”                 Alexandra pushed away from the lady, working quickly to heat the wax until it melted completely and placed a large red blob on the fold of the envelope where it should open. She replaced the quickly cooling wax as the lady stamped the wax with a seal. Mrs. Dylan stood and faced her once again.                 “Be a friend to her like you were to me. Help her in any way you can,” The lady gave a weak smile, turning to pick up the letter. She kissed the top and handed it over with shaking hands. “Make sure she gets this when she is old enough to understand. Give her my love every day.” Mrs. Dylan’s eyes shone with fear and deep sadness that Alexandra knew she couldn’t solve with any amount of comfort. Instead, she hid the letter in her pocket, keeping it safely hidden away from prying eyes.                 After today, everything is going to change.    _____________________________________________________________________________                 Morgan Dylan stood by the front door, her short brown hair falling to the top of her shoulders, waved slightly as she bounced on her toes. The day had finally arrived that. Everyone had been talking about today for weeks! They had been tantalizing her with promises of gifts and treats for her ninth birthday and now the time had come! She waited by the front door for her guests to arrive so she could greet them like a proper lady. Morgan smiled as she twirled in a light blue dress that made her feel older than her allotted age. Being the only child of one of the richest families in town came with a lot of perks and responsibilities. She finished her twirl with a practiced curtsy. Beside her stood a fastidious looking lady in waiting, who remained poised by the door. The large foyer held no one else at the present time, leaving the room to shine in its grandeur. Morgan drifted towards the polished staircase, marveling at the extent of decorations that had been put up for her when the doorbell rang. Morgan pranced back to her lady in waiting, following her suit by standing primly with her hands clasped in front of her.                 James, the butler, floated ever so softly from the room adjacent to the foyer, his polished shoes squeaking. Morgan laughed at the sound causing her lady in waiting to jab her in the ribs. James opened the door and Morgan had to force back an urge to lean across the doorway to see who had arrived and bit her lip instead.                 “Welcome Mr. Thomas, and son, Bradley.” James drawled, his deep voice resounding in the grand space. As his voice died out a tall man in a worn suit stepped inside, a wide grin taking over half of his face. At his side stood a young boy, around Morgan’s own age, doing his best to act just like his father with less of a smile.                 “How are you, James?” Mr. Thomas questioned, his eyes scanning the room till they landed on Morgan.                 “Very well, sir. Thank you, sir.” James’s answer lingered as he closed the door firmly, sliding away unnoticed. Morgan kept her eyes on Mr. Thomas, a smile creeping onto her lips. Mr. Thomas fell into a deep bow in front of her, which Morgan followed with a low curtsy.                 “My, my, my… I hardly recognized you, little miss,” Mr. Thomas joked. At his words, Morgan left the dull air of propriety behind them.                 “Mr. Thomas! Don’t think I do not see that you are hiding something behind your back!” Morgan leaned over to check out the small but neatly wrapped gift that Mr. Thomas held behind him. Her lady in waiting tsked with irritation, but it went ignored as Mr. Thomas roared with laughter.                 “Nothing gets past you little miss,” Mr. Thomas brought the gift forward, holding his palm out flat to showcase the gift. Morgan’s eyes twinkled as her lips made a perfect ‘o’.                 “I want to open your gift first Mr. Thomas!” Morgan announced loudly, her voice bouncing back from the walls and ceiling. Mr. Thomas roared with laughter once again.                 “I’ll make sure to put it at the front!” Mr. Thomas winked, turning to the boy at his side, resting a hand on his shoulder. “May I introduce my son, Bradley.” The boy, who had been watching their exchange with increasing displeasure stepped forward, bowing his head slightly. Morgan turned her glittery eyes on him, curtsying in response.                 “How do you do? My name is Morgan Dylan,” She announced with increasing interest as she finally met another person her own age, or at least, around her age.  She had been privately taught since she was born but had been told that she would start attending a private school in a few days’ time that she was extremely excited about. Morgan’s eyes remained on the boy, looking over his neatly trimmed hair and the suit he wore that matched his fathers’, albeit, newer looking.                 “Bradley,” The boy let slip, returning to his normal personality, tight-lipped and not too enthusiastic about anything. Morgan frowned a little, hoping the boy would have changed his upright personality as she had done.                 “Mr. Thomas!” Her mother’s voice flowed down the staircase and into the foyer and in that instant, she forgot all about the boy. She turned, her eyes finding her mother elegantly floating down the steps with Alexandra following after her like a dark shadow. Morgan’s eyes glittered anew as they took in her mother. She had always thought of her mother as the most beautiful woman in the world, but today she looked otherworldly as she was dressed like a queen in her emerald green gown with a flattering amount of jewelry. She watched as her mother and Mr. Thomas embraced warmly and walked into the next room hand-in-hand. It wasn’t long after that, that her father descended the steps, buttoning his pristine suit as he passed into the adjacent room without giving notice to Morgan at all.                 She turned back to the door, forcing herself to forget her father’s ignorance of her, even on her birthday. Her icy blue eyes found the steely grey ones of Mr. Thomas’s son, her cheeks flushing profusely. Why hadn’t he left with his father, she thought, feeling embarrassed that he had been the one to witness her father behave that way towards her. She lowered her gaze, only raising them again when the doorbell rang, finding herself alone once again.  __________________________________________________________________     Bradley, after witnessing Mr. Dylan’s ignorance of his daughter, left the weird little girl in search of his own father. He had thought the girl very strange as she put on such an air of politeness, only to change in an instant. The way she had acted with his own father made him tingle with distaste. His father was the best, always teaching him how to be a man while giving him leave to trust and devote time to his own feelings. At least when he wasn’t busy with working for the girl’s father.     Bradley paused just inside the adjacent room, where he had seen his father enter with an older lady, that he had made out to be Mrs. Dylan. The room was elaborately decorated in an old-fashioned classical style with just enough colorful banners and an influx of inflated balloons to give the impression it was decorated for a kid’s birthday. A round table was draped in a gold cloth where his father’s gift stood in front of a handful of larger gifts. He scanned the room further, discovering that his father was not among the antique and expensive furniture. The room opened into another that Bradley ventured into, unable to stop himself from gawking at the paintings and the pianoforte that his house was absent of. As he stumbled further into the room a cacophony of male voices, one of them being his father’s. “…Here he is now! My son, Bradley!” His father’s pleasant voice drifted across the room. Bradley found his father standing in front of a lit fireplace, next to Mr. Bradley. They resembled each other in that they were both older males, but the finely dressed Mr. Bradley stood out more against his father’s less fortunate suit. Bradley had seen Mr. Bradley before, often when picking his father up for work. He had heard his name even more so from the lips of his father, speaking highly of him. Bradley walked towards them, his own eyes meeting the threatening orbs of his father’s boss. In his own opinion, Bradley wondered how the two got along so well with each other, when they looked and acted in total opposites. Bradley stopped in front of his father, remaining silent as Mr. Bradley’s face scanned over him with an expressionless face that demanded respect. “Mr. Thomas,” Mr. Dylan held out a hand, his deep voice booming and resonating off the walls of the smaller room. Bradley bravely shook the man’s hand, staring into the older gentlemen’s face as though they had just completed a business transaction. “Fine man you have, Samuel. He will make a perfect match for my Morgan, I dare say,” Mr. Dylan said, leaving Bradley confused about what his words meant. “Yes, very fine man, if I do say so myself. Morgan will be joining his class very soon. I’ll make sure Bradley here keeps an eye out for her,” His father replied, winking at his son. Bradley nodded as he turned away from the two older men, searching for anything to take him away from the boring conversation. His eyes ran down the elongated table that ran down the middle of the room, goblets and wine glasses danced around jewel-encrusted silverware and finely made porcelain bowls that matched their plate counterparts. How much do they eat? He thought with a wan smile as he looked back to Mr. Dylan’s slim but muscular figure. Bradley moved down the table to the far side of the room where a few frames hung. They were mostly of Mrs. Dylan and of the girl she had just met. Only one photo held all three of them together, and in this photo, the girl had just been a baby. “No. There is no other way… They are planning something and we must act now.” Mr. Dylan’s voice was strained and sounded like nothing of the deep voice that Bradley had just heard speak with. Bradley resisted the urge to see if someone else had joined them, knowing full well that no one had and it had, in fact, been Mr. Dylan who had spoken. In lieu, he acted like he had not heard anything at all. “Oliver, the guests have arrived,” Mrs. Dylan walked into the room, holding herself firmly. Mr. Dylan crossed the room and pecked his wife’s cheek. The brilliant green eyes hovered over Bradley for a moment and then they were gone. Bradley followed after his father, back into the larger and brightly lit living room that now held around a dozen families.    ________________________________________________________ Morgan stood in the center of the living room, her eyes aglow. She had been in this room at least once a day her entire life, but it had never glittered the way it did now, nor had it held as many people before. Morgan glanced to her left and right, finding some faces she had seen before while others still remained a mystery to her. Not that it really bothered her. The more the merrier, she thought, her smile widening across her face. Her blue eyes found the gift table that was now overflowing and beside the table were a few kids her own age who were goggling the massive amounts of gifts as she was. Morgan took notice of a girl with long, shiny blond hair that stood a little taller herself, talking away to a boy with red hair and a freckly face and a smaller boy with black hair and black eyes, with glowing tan skin. She managed to see Mr. Thomas’s son make his way over to the group of kids as the lights went off, casting the room into gloom and shadow from the added decorations in the room. A murmur of whispers rose up from the crowd. “Happy Birthday to you,” The infamous song began with a harmonious voice that Morgan recognized as her mother’s. Others joined in as her mother made her appearance behind a cake that was lit with nine candles and stopped right in front of her. Morgan bounced on her heels, enamored with everything, but her mother’s precious smile remained at the forefront of everything else. The song ended with an outburst of claps. “Make a wish my love and blow out the candles,” Her mother insisted, holding the cake closer to her. Morgan clapped her hands together, intertwining her fingers in a prayer-like stance as her eyes slide close. What am I to pray for? Everything I want, I already have! Morgan thought. I know! I’ll pray for everything to remain exactly the way it is! Morgan snapped her eyes open, blowing out the candles as another eruption of claps broke out. She remained frozen as she watched her mother handed the cake to Alexandra. “Happy birthday my love!” Morgan’s mom held her arms out which Morgan ran into. She never remembered a hug quite like this one, tighter and warmer than any bear hug. It was a hug that Morgan enjoyed so much that she let out a small cry when her mother finally pulled away. She kissed the top of her head before pushing her towards the other kids. “Go and play with the others,” Her mother insisted as the lights flashed on. Morgan, all too happy to obey, left to greet the younger visitors missing the tears that dropped down her mother’s face. “Hi, I’m Morgan! Do you want to play?” Morgan greeted them with a curtsy and a wave. Many of them agreed instantly to a game of hide-and-seek, except for Bradley who remained distant from everyone. “I’ll count!” The girl with the blond hair shouted. The girl turned, closed her eyes, and began to count instantly, forcing the rest of them to dive and run in different directions. Morgan, knowing the house better than any of the other players, knew where the best place to hide was. She skipped out of the room, down the hall, and through the secret servant door at the far end of the hallway. She crouched, paused, and waited to hear anything from the hallway on the other side of the door. Seconds and then minutes ticked by until Morgan became restless and scared that her hiding spot was too good and no one would find her. She crept out of the door, crossed the hallway to the next room, still not hearing or seeing anyone as she closed the door behind her. As she turned back around, she found herself in her father’s study. She had always been forbidden to enter it. She slowly looked around, forgetting her boundaries as she only cared about the current game of hide-and-seek. Books laid in tremendous piles on the bookshelves. The glitter of gold from trophies and medals caught her eye in every direction. A large globe spun slowly as though it had just been touched. Morgan shuddered at the coldness of the room, feeling nothing warm about the relics that were on display. She turned to leave, too afraid to stay in this room any longer when a curious smell and a glimpse of something shiny and red caught her eye. She shuffled forward detecting that the shiny, red item was flowing towards her. Her eyes flickered further into the room, stopping as they came across the shine of emerald fabric and the gleam of diamond jewelry. She let out a high pitched, possessed scream of distraught that echoed to every corner of the house as she recognized the brown hair that was so like her own, and the hard, green eyes that never flinched.