Eli does not deserve to suffer like this.

He was a good, morally upstanding young boy; a brick of society as those overzealous drunks at the cavern used to say, and it's not his fault fate decided he would make an amazing beet farmer. Every morning he gets up far earlier than he likes because he has to make breakfast. It used to be mom's job to make breakfast but she decided she liked Mr Windslow's Lettuce farm better so now it's just him, dad, and grandpa alone in this rickety old manor rotting away with the rats.

Eli didn't blame her; he just wished she could have brought him along as she did Alastor, Mabel, and Timmy.

But she didn't.

So here he was before sunrise cracking chicken fetuses into a pan of lard since refined oil was too expensive and their winter funds were already running low after paying for the repairs of the collapsed northern section of the building.

Grandpa used to live there.

Eli mashes some cooked beets for grandpa's broken jaw, fries the rest for dad and roasts a few for himself. He adds a side of pickled veggies for flavor before juicing more beets as an extra source of fiber, the most important nutrient for a real man, his dad had said as an excuse to why they ate it three times a day.

But dad was a liar.

He takes the breakfast up to their rooms and adds some wood to their fireplace to make it warmer, Grandpa left his windows open again; at this rate he'll die from hypothermia before old age, which is impressive considering grandpa was so saggy it seemed like hell itself was slowly dragging him down by the minute. Eli does the same to the fire in the living area and kitchen before absently stirring the cauldron of chopped beets being cooked for their molasses on the stove.

Then he dunks his hands in a bucket of cold water to wash the dishes, desperately hoping to any god out there he didn't get frostbite or hypothermia. His hand lotion was already at the end of its life and at this rate he'll have to DIY something from the lard when it bottoms out, shit was expensive.

The gods didn't respond but the voice in his head calls him a moron for not heating up some water to mix it, clearly not understanding the pain of chopping wood in winter so Eli only calls it a brain-dead fucktard in response before forgiving it for its ignorance.

A month after his brain decided having one person In charge just wasn't enough and Eli was beginning to realize the voice was pretty ignorant about many things.

Usually that would say a lot about himself but Eli refuses to be associated with the voice; He was his own person damn it and sharing the same body wouldn't change that.

Fearing a death by structural collapse Eli spends another chunk of his morning sweeping the snow off their roof with a boom, standing on the uneven legs of their old ladder since he liked living dangerously and although beet was basically their last name danger came right after.

Eli also decides six AM was a good time to harass some animals so he milks the cows, steals some eggs, refills their feeder, and sweeps the snow from the roof of their pig pen even if it held no pigs because he was a good, morally upstanding young boy and that's just what good, morally upstanding young boys did.

The voice in his head laughs at him in ridicule so Eli tells it to shut the fuck up because its horse laugh is giving him a headache and clearly it was neither young or good so what did it know about being morally upstanding?

To also afford a better life, good, morally upstanding young boys needed to weed and water their makeshift greenhouses not because dad refused to do more work than necessary but to contribute to the economy in a way that benefited everyone already living in it.

Sure they all said it collapsed after losing that war but tomatoes could be sold for five times the average price in a winter's market, and the sugar beets grown in the space between them can be cooked down into an expensive syrupy molasses that was just as good as honey if you've never had honey before and thought it was the color of dirt; meaning the economy was fine.

Everyone knows inflation was a sign of growth.

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Eli would hum a joyful tune to brighten the silence of the farm but just opening the mask on his face has him reeling from the cold so he asks the voice in his head to do it instead.

This was clearly a mistake as the voice starts singing something in a made up made up language so Eli tells it to forget he ever asked and stop making noise.

In the two hours it took him to finish his chores the beets were ready and he made sure to skim the foam in between so Eli leaves it to cool while he cleans the rooms of the manor and collects their dirty Laundry.

In spring they used to pay Mrs Maisly to do the Laundry but even an increased salary couldn't motivate her enough to wash in winter so as the resident youngest unpaid worker it was now Eli's responsibility to wash their uselessly expensive underwear.

He lights the lamps on the walls, sweeping the corners for cobwebs and spiders, a frequent visitor to their lovely home despite being generally uninvited and unwelcomed.

The manor was one of the few things excluding debt inherited from great grandpa, meaning it was old as fuck and infested with all kinds of bugs to the point of being a safety hazard.

He sees a dead roach in front of dad's bedroom so naturally, he opens his door and kicks it in.

"Your room is infested."Eli says to the figure contorted on a mat in what dad called yoga and he called a fucking waste of time.

"We should get the rune."

Or insect repellent. Anything at this point would be better than having to sweep dead carcasses every morning like they committed insects genocide at night.

Sometimes he doesn't see them and they start to smell.

It's disgusting.

"We already have one," Dad replies, stretching into another painful-looking position for absolutely no reason at all. Eli thinks he's a lying liar who lies so he tells him exactly that and takes satisfaction in seeming him break from his meditative trance to shoot him a look.

Liar.

"We have an insect killer, it's very different. And gross. And awful, and disgusting, and vile. I hate it." The voice in his head says it's also smelly but Eli already ended the sentence and adding more words at this point would be against the rules.

But this is important so rules be damned. "And smelly. Really smelly." He adds.

Last week a rat died inside the western section roof and Eli almost went crazy searching for the source of the smell.

"Well," Dad shrugs with an evil smile, "That's all we've got honey, beggars can't be choosers." He says. And Eli knows that's a lie. They're not beggars and even if they were Eli could definitely choose between an un-infested house and a cemetery for bugs but they've had this conversation before and he never wins.

So he kicks the roach further into the room, watching it slide under his bed.

"We're going to get a disease and it's all going to be your fault." Eli acuses resentfully, "Do you know how many people died from an infection last year?"

"Zero?"

"Yes, but not for long! Soon it'll be three. Me, you, and grandpa. And on my grave, it'll say 'Eli The beet farmer; died young because his dad was cheap.' Exactly those words. Is that what you want dad? Is it? Do you want me to die before you get the rune?" His blue eyes turn glassy as tears begin streaming down his face, expression deeply heartbroken.

"Every morning I wake up to a sea of bugs. In my room, on my chair, even in my bathroom, my private haven, there's a dead bug. I can't run from them and I can't do anything to stop them. But you, you, could change everything. You could make my dreams come true," He sniffles hopefully, widening his eyes with as much sincerity as his body could possibly muster."You could make me the happiest boy in the world if you just—"

"No."

"Tch." Eli's expression immediately sours, "Miser."

He takes the breakfast plates and slams the door gently behind him because anything harder would require more funds for repair and Eli would like to taste salt in his food next month.

He does not deserve to suffer like this.