Chapter Text
Another night of restless, irrational thoughts. It was quite a hindrance having to stay up every night when I will have to wake up tomorrow and do that debut. Being tired was the last thing I needed. Everything had to go according to plan in order to win Lord Grandfather’s favor.
Sometimes I think that the reason for this inability to sleep is because of some ghost. I know ghosts do not exist. The very notion of them are absurd! Yet the feeling persists!
It’s awfully cold, which means I need to wear my blanket in my own room!
If Aileen or Gerald ever saw this sight they may laugh. After all they love to tease me, always have.
What note sound I add next? Maybe a C minor…
Writing music was one of the few things I could do to occupy myself, after all I already read all the kid’s profiles. I am certain Kate knows she is being watched. Her data is too flawless. We need to prune her away, because if she knows she is being watched, the only reason she would act this way was if she disagrees with the house and wants to uproot it. A rebellious element… Plotting and scheming the system to go down… I must remove her before she gets in my way. I must remove her to prove myself to Lord Grandfather. Luckily I have just the thing to stop her.
Ed would like the way this song is going, quite a beautifully haunting, tingling melody. Akin to classical music, as are all things I procure. I’m not sure this song is quite satisfying enough to deserve lyrics…
That was a sour note I played…
You know what I think? That nobody doesn’t even deserve to hear this! Even if it does not deserve lyrics, Ed was never anything more than a nat! If he were here…I bet he would just nod his head and say this was good, perhaps even suggesting to slow the melody! It is already tremendously slow! To any lout who thinks otherwise, they must be too easily impressed by musical genius.
Ugh.
Just like every night this week I have been sat at this piano’s chair, every night having to close the curtains just to stop the feeling of eyes watching me. It doesn’t ever deter them. Whatever this “them” may be.
My bed hasn’t had to be made in the last month.
The only relief of sleep I have been provided was either in this very chair or by falling to the floor. I have frightened too many of the other second floor residents that way; the sleep never lasted more than twenty minutes anyways. Someone has always come knocking on my door.
This inability to sleep didn’t always plague me. I have not even an inkling as to how it started. If I try to sleep I end up shaking like a soggy leaf in December. A sorry excuse for a second floor resident.
My hands do not shake now. This blanket has protected me momentarily from that fate.
Even with the curtains closed I can feel how high up I am; a room right beside a cliff. A disaster waiting to happen… It won’t have to bother me much longer; I plan to move to the third floor very soon. Along with Aileen and Gerald of course. They both, to some extent, understand what I am trying to do, the mission I plan to accomplish. They know me better than anyone else. Better doesn't have to mean very much though…
Perhaps I'll have time to play this melody tomorrow if things go well.
Or more accurately, if things go very poorly.
Because if it goes well, I won’t feel the need to play anything.
For certain Shirley will get eliminated, after her Kate will also be disqualified. It will all be over for them both soon. The rest of the lot debuting tomorrow will probably well serve the house. Nearly everything is up to the dolls' meaningless decisions tomorrow. Meaning that I planned exceptionally enough that I have time to sit back and watch everything unfold.
Then why do I worry so much?
The night continues to become darker, colder; I should already be in bed by now. Yet I continue to strain myself by staying up like this. My mind is a slurry of such unnecessary, foggy thoughts tonight; and I remain stubborn in my body’s own effort to help me.
I would certainly come to regret it tomorrow if I don’t sleep before the debut. Though sleeping is starting to lose all its worth and purpose to me the closer to daybreak it becomes.
Reluctantly I get up from the seat of my piano, nearly knocking over my pen from the mantle, onto the keys; which would undoubtedly play an awful sound much too loud for myself, and my neighbors. After I got up, I blew out all the candles I had lit so I could write that sheet music.
I don’t attempt to correct my posture as I normally would, I simply head towards my bed. It would be a waste of effort to do so, seeing as a blanket weighs my shoulders down, and my limbs are rather weak at this hour of midnight.
In bed, underneath all the mass of the blankets, I do not feel any sense of comfort that it ordinarily provides others. The moment all this weight is spread across my body, I panic irrationally. I cannot seem to breathe properly! It is not as if I am trapped! My ribs are worthlessly collapsing under meer blankets.
I cannot breathe, nor sleep. It’s a stretch to say I would like to anyways. All that it is, is that I need to sleep. There is no desire involved. Although I do indeed desire to breathe properly at least. So I settle for turning onto my side and staring into the depths of the wall. I expect to feel some sort of warmth, or see… Something in the dark. Anything. Though nothing is there.
Irrational.
I expect a peck on my cheek.
Idiotic.
A voice whispering my name.
Foolish.
Lots of time is always required to expel these absurd delusions from this lackluster brain of mine. The delusions always detail something from my past, back in the children’s wing. Those memories should not hold me down anymore, as I am an adult. I survived the transformation. I rose a floor. I have two people at my beck and call. I am the manager of the children’s wing. I refuse to be puppeteered this way! Whether someone is planting these seeds into my brain, or that it is my mind itself! This lack of being able to sleep mocks all that I have achieved! I refuse to let it persist!
I refuse to believe my very body telling me I will die if and when I do rest. I refuse to keep shaking like this. I refuse to feel cold under my own sheets. I refuse to think anything bad will happen tomorrow! I refuse to think the feeling of “someone” watching me, that “someone” will suffocate me while sleeping in my bed. I refuse to think that without a kiss good night that I am not perfectly safe. I refuse to let my fears consume me.
I have procured my plans to work perfectly after all.
I cannot. Rather, I will not… Die.
Much less from a… dumb… that’s not the word- whatever…thing… like this…
The blankets on top of me are finally warm… I am okay…
—
I had awoken to find I had indeed slept. Not rather well, as I kept yawning well after I left my bed. That is all perfectly alright. Nothing can deter me from making this the most entertaining debut anyone has ever seen. It is sure to give me the recognition I deserve.
I will have to interact with those nuisance star bearers for the debut, which will be more than a little frustrating. Barabra’s doll, she has always been louder than her master. Barbie… She is much too stubborn now to let anything slip past her gaze. I will have to be thorough in my biased indirect assassinations. Lest I be caught and disposed of. Or worse, banished in shame. I almost miss how cheerful and dumb Barabra’s doll, Barbie, used to be, simply because she makes my job harder in her current state.
Speaking of which, I have to talk to her now. I will not record what we say into my own head as I have been doing everything else, because that is simply absurd. Even me doing this as I am now shows a level of mental instability on my part.
Surely it will get better when I move to the third floor and don’t have to deal with all these brats, and all the paperwork. Only Lord grandfather, Gerald, and Aileen to deal with instead. Oh and my room placement with a window overlooking a cliff… Certainly that will change too. I await the day when I will get out of this hellhole. To a place in which I can properly sleep. A place that better suits me.
Of course everything went smoothly in my chat with Baraba’s doll, well enough that is for talking to someone who scowls at everything. She took my appearance inside the children’s wing rather well, considering her temper. Barbie has a problem, but at least it’s not the pair of them, both Barabra and Barbie. That would advise me calling it an actual challenge getting past their eyes.
Seriously, how can Barabra stand her doll? She is so nosy and bossy. A real brat. She lacks knowledge of her place and role in Shadow's House. Of course I cannot get them disposed of though because “Barabra’s soot is much too important”.
I can tolerate them. I can tolerate them if everything else goes to plan, and it will. All that must be done is playing my cards right and waiting patiently. My time will come. It will be over for all of them soon enough.
—
It was soon time for Edward and Ed to meet Christopher, for whatever incessant needs he had for us to fulfill this time. It was an understatement to say he was a dreamer. One without a lack of ideas, but rather a lack of competence and skill to act upon all his claims. All his promises.
Christopher asked the two of us to become instructors. Sometimes Edward believes we should have turned his offer down. That thought doesn’t change the present situation.
These halls filled with red, how boringly dreadful. Yet Ed smiles for Edward in hopes of cheering him up. It will not work. Yet he persists calmly, walking besides Edward looking so very content. Well Edward is certainly not as jolly as Ed is, just to be walking alongside himself.
Edward is smiling.
It never works to resist smiling when Ed is as patient as he is. He is even taking a glance at Edward, amused he presumes. Ed cannot even see his face, yet he knows Edward and his moods all too well not to notice.
Edward supposes going into this meeting with Christopher while calm is a better idea than starting it in bitter annoyance towards him.
This hallway receives every speck of light from the sun in the mornings, it blinds Edward now.
Finally the room in which we instructors meet. The doors stand tall and reliable, though not when Edward enters. When any person goes inside, the door screams in agony for the whole hall to hear. Luckily nobody sleeps nearby; otherwise Chistopher and Anthony would get discarded from the plethora of impulsive nighttime meetings they host.
Edward wishes to run away, for this meeting was bound to take all day. It would probably consist mostly of Christopher urging Edward to be nicer, or teach differently, while trying to be polite. Edward is already being good to the students, they even said they have learned! Ed holds him from running away, in spirit, but also by his hand’s contact with his shoulder.
Edward has never seen Christopher alone. Edward is not alone now, so not even this time would he be alone to meet him. Edward should rephrase. Edward has never seen him without some children to witness, or Maryrose and Rosemary with him. Edward is lucky to have Ed, his talented face, with him. Otherwise he would certainly yell at Christopher.
“If you can’t open the doors I can. Or…” Ed trails off into impossible silence. Edward tilts his head to signal to Ed to continue. “We could always just open the doors together.”
Edward does not like how incompetent this makes him look, but he sighs. “At the count of three.”
In unison we whisper. “Three” Edward's anger is coming back already.
“Two” Ed has his shoulders raised in a brace. Is he also worried by what Christopher may say? He shouldn’t be.
“One” Whether either of us like it, the doors are opened. Edward hardly hears the squeal from the hinges of the doors. Whatever Christopher has to criticize, Edward can criticize him better. If he doesn’t like how he teaches, he shouldn’t have asked him to teach! Or better yet, he could just fire Edward! That would be a great idea, if only Ed didn’t like teaching so much.
Christopher sits cross legged in a reading chair, waiting for us, reading to his heart’s content. Whereas Anthony has already spotted us. He is already staring. He only briefly glances at Chistopher to assess if he has seen us yet. Otherwise, Anthony just stands straight in attention besides his master’s chair.
It’s eerily silent. Only the turn of a page and my own breathing fills this space full of light and books that are gathered here.
It takes a couple page turns for Edward to finally lose his patience and fake clearing his throat in order to catch Christopher’s attention.
He perks his head up from his book to the sound almost instantaneously. He leapt from his chair just as quickly to greet us both.
“Sorry for that! Christopher hopes you have not been standing by the door long?”
“We haven’t been here long. It is quite alright,” Edward lies. “Now what was it you wanted to discuss so privately?”
“Well Edward. Christopher merely wanted to tell you how well you two are doing!” Did Edward have hearing loss? Well?? What could Edward ever teach well? He understands Ed to some degree, but not himself.
Edward could not get himself to speak.
“Oh my. Did Christopher break you? He apologizes profusely if so!” Edward thought Christopher was going to reprimand him, not compliment him..?
“No, no. Edward is fine. Albeit, surprised. But plenty alright.”
“If you say so!” Christopher practically beamed, though he had no face, and Anthony wasn’t doing his job…(Anthony even lacked his portrait on him!!) You could hear it in his voice, and see it in the way his body moved. “Christopher has been told you have been a bit more patient with the students! Christopher is impressed! He is aware of your temper, so Christopher thinks this is a sign of great progress from you!”
Edward reluctantly nods in acknowledgement.
He had been a great teacher for awhile! The students even said so, he told them not to tell Christopher though… Someone must have snitched. Edward didn’t want to be coddled by Christopher like everyone else, and he didn’t want him to see he could be soft in any way. Now look what he got.
“And you Ed. Christopher has always been told that they have learned lots in the ways of playing piano from you! Keep it up! Christopher is sincerely happy for you both. Christopher considered saying this in a more public manner, but decided against it. He thought you both would get rather embarrassed.”
“Edward appreciates the thought…” He did in fact not. Edward was rather offended by him stating such an idea.
Glancing at Ed you could see someone who had confidence in himself. He was taking what Christopher had said to heart, and turning it into fuel to continue what he does. His eyes gleamed in emotion and expression, though all he did with his body was nod his head. He took his pride in much better stride than Edward ever could. No that’s not right? Edward takes things better than Ed nearly all the time.
Edward certainly was doing especially well in Christopher's eyes if he said more on him than he did Edward’s doll this time. Strange.
Everyone in the room was rather content, and happy. That was everyone except Anthony. He had a face of apathy, but smiled when Christopher looked his way. He often did that, probably to conserve energy? If Edward had to take a guess that would match with his reputation. It really doesn’t matter much why.
Anthony would soon break this “happy bubble" properly by tapping his master’s shoulder. It seemed to be a signal, because Chistopher looked to have remembered something in the way he flinched, then promptly told Anthony and Ed to leave the room for a moment so we both could talk. Lovely. So It seems Edward will have to be stuck alone with Christopher anyways.