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Life: New Game +
8 Not Sorry

8 Not Sorry

"Here's the newest cut according to the client's feedback", Edward said, while passing a flash drive to Sean.

Edward had dark rings around his eyes and untidy creases in his long-sleeved shirt. Despite this, he maintained a smile, though it seemed somewhat strained. Who can blame him? He had just spent the entire weekend at the office, rushing out a last minute edit. 

Today was Monday. Friday, Saturday, Sunday. 74 hours of work, interspersed by naps, coffee and cigarettes.

"What the hell are you wearing? Don't you iron your clothes? You are too slovenly to meet out clients. Just stay out here, I'll come out if I have any questions. You better not leave your desk"

Are you fucking kidding me? ARE YOU FUCKING KIDDING ME? First of all, you don't get to call me fucking slovenly when it was I who stayed in the office over the fucking weekend. All because you not only couldn't say just no the fucking client, you had told them they could see the changes by Monday.

You told them this on a fucking Friday. At 5 pm. And I don't even want to see the damn clients, they are your clients, not mine. 

And plus, who the fuck uses slovenly, oh-im-so-smart-i-must-use-big-english-words. 

"Did you hear me? I said, I want you to stay here." Sean jabbed his finger at Edward, like some weird cartoonish woodpecker pecking an imaginary tree. Truly a pecker indeed.

Edward snapped back into reality.

"Sure thing boss, I'll be right here."

Edward's smile cracked a little.

Just you wait. One of these days the clients are going to find out that I'm the one doing all the work, and when they do, I'll be taking all of them.

Edward died 3 weeks later, just before Halloween.

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~~Edward~~

It is barely dawn, the first light has yet to hit the grand estate of house Ney. Almost everyone is asleep.

Almost.

I had awoken early, in order to enact my plan of petty vengeance. In my hand, I held a pitcher of piss, filled to the brim. My target? The daughter of my captor - Ravenna Ney, or, as I call affectionately call her, Baby Rat.

The girl is priggishness incarnate. Ever since I arrived at the estate, she has been relentless in her abuse. I was bullied once, in my past life in secondary school(high school), and I never expected that I would revisiting that experience quite so soon. I had forgotten how cruel children can be.

Of course, most of it is childish, she is but only eight. If it were only insults and your run-of-the-mill kicks and slaps, I could endure it. But it was more than that. She had been snooping in my room - I had found it searched and trashed several times, with many of my personal possessions missing.

It was like I had a nosy kleptomaniac little sister.

Hold on, that's exactly what it was. The final straw came when I found her mother's necklace in my drawer. No doubt, she wanted to frame me. I could not ignore the escalation.

Which brings me to this. A pitcher of piss. You see, to stop her, I figured that I needed to do two things; one, take away her pride, knock her down a few steps, and two, diminish her in the eyes of the real powers of this manor - Lord Rat and Lady Rat. I don't think any parent would take kindly to their child wetting the bed at age eight.

Hmm, I shouldn't call Lady Ney Lady Rat though, she hasn't done anything against me. Sour faced as she may be, she has always been polite though somewhat reticent. Sometimes in her eyes, I see pity, or is that fear? I wonder if I can use that.

So every week for the past couple of months, I had snuck into Baby Rat's room while she was asleep, and poured out the piss on her bed. There were days where I was almost caught by one of the servants who had unexpectedly woken early, sometimes it was my clumsiness  almost woke Baby Rat up. But, practice makes perfect, and I had plenty of practice. I crept into her room gingerly, holding the pitcher with both hands. She had clean sheets.

Not for long.

I gently poured the pitcher directly onto her bed, careful to avoid splashing the urine on to her, or myself for that matter. As the wet spot on her bed expanded and invaded her clothes, she let out a smile. The piss was still warm, was she dreaming of a hot bath maybe? I stifled my laughter extricated myself silently from the scene of the crime. Attempt number seven was a complete success. 

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I feel kinda bad for her. I really do. She is, after all, still a kid. I may look like I'm three, but I have at my disposal thirty years of memories, of a life rife with office politics and academic backstabbing. She had no chance whatsoever.

I can't believe it's been three years. Three years. Three years going on thirty-three.

Stolen story; please report.

To give credit where credit's due, Lord Rat did not renege on his words. We are both provided for, food, clothing and shelter -  a far cry from the conditions that we would've expected. Who knew? Even Rats keep their words. Plus, I was even given a tutor, not that I needed it, considering that I already picked up most of the language even before arriving.

My siblings and I have been treated well, though not alike. I'm more important it seems. I live in the grand manor of the Ney estate, while my siblings live on the far end, in a small but adequate hovel. It is hovel which I routinely visit, especially after a successful mission. Like today.

"So? How did it go?", Nazret, a young girl of ten, almost shouted in excitement. With her black hair and topaz eyes, she could've been my mother's daughter. The rest of my brothers and sisters huddled around, save a few of the older ones who went about their business.

"She didn't even wake up when I left the room." You could hear the smugness in my voice. The rest of the kids giggled with me.

"Can we play hide and seek before class ?", Negele, who was twice my age, quipped.

With that one word 'Hide and Seek', almost all of my siblings ran out laughing. I half wanted to join them in their revelry. That desire was not out of a genuine interest in playing, but rather a sort of wistful happiness that someone who is older gets, when playing with children. They remind me of a more innocent time. 

The class that Negele was speaking of was my attempt to teach them what I knew. I had taught them as much as I could, disguised under the veil of the knowledge I had gleaned from my tutor. In truth, I was teaching them from memory - my memory of a past life. I told them of gravity and celestial bodies, of the laws of thermodynamics Newtonian mechanics, and of germ theory and the theory of evolution. I recounted to them the plays of Shakespeare, the movies of Spielberg; I even told them of Harry Potter. They liked Harry Potter.

They listened always, with rapt attention - I think they gleaned the importance of what I was trying to do. The memories of being helpless on that ship was shared amongst all of us. I didn't want any of them to go through that again. I didn't want them to suffer any more sacrifice for survival. I didn't want them to be in the power of any other than themselves. Knowledge could be our way out.

Were it not for me, They would still have their families.

As I approached the door to join my brothers and sisters in their fun, one of my brothers, Oromia, pulled me aside. Oromia was the eldest at seventeen, and he had acted as a father to all of us; for all our parents , save mine, either burned or drowned in that wreck. Sometimes the rest of my siblings forget, he too lost his parents then. Standing tall at around 1.8 metres, with his piercing blue eyes and dark brown hair, he looked far older than his age. But then again, we all were.

"Everyday, you come down from the big house to teach us -"

"Yea, I'll be collecting tuition fees soon enough, just you wait. I gotta get you all hooked on this 'learning' thing first, you see." I tried to change the tone of the conversation. I couldn't bear being thanked by Oromia, or any of my siblings.

Not when I caused so many deaths.

Oromia chuckled then gave me a hug.

"I know what you are trying to do for us little brother. The Lord Rat will only provide for us so long as it is in his interest. We must look out for ourselves."

Oromia paused as he broke from that hug.

"I don't understand why you keep tormenting the Rat's daughter. We cannot rock this boat yet. Soon, I'll find myself an apprenticeship with one of the professions. In time, I think all of us will, especially with what you have taught us. And then, we will finally be free of this gilded cage."

Oromia is kneeling on the ground, his eyes level with mine, his arms on both of my shoulders.

"So please, just leave her alone. Let us gather our strength in secret. Promise me this."

Right there and then, I wanted to tell him about how much of a bitch Baby Rat had been, I wanted to tell him of the bullying, the theft and the framing. But I couldn't. The truth was, I never needed to enact any plan to de-fang the Baby Rat. I did so simple because I wanted to.

God I hate bullies. But Oromia's right, he is absolutely right.

I had given up the forest for the trees. Sure, Baby Rat's interference could have been an inconvenience for us, but the risks I was taking on bringing her down could have put all of us in danger. What would Lady Rat do if she knew we were messing with her daughter? What would Lord Rat do?

Well, the only frame of reference I have in this world is my mother, and she burnt down a boat.

How could I have been so short sighted?

So I made the promise.

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Edward sat by a massive dining table that could've easily seated twenty. Only four were present - Lord Ney, Lady Ney, Ravenna and of course, Edward. This, and with the fact not only was meal itself was extravagant, the whole room was brilliantly lit with candle light from a massive crystal chandelier,  gave the entire affair a a strange sense of irony.

What a waste. Maybe I could save some for my brothers and sisters.

Edward was not used to being at dinner with the rest of the Neys, he often dined alone in his room, on a small little desk by the window so it could catch the moonlight. 

This dinner had a purpose other than dinner.

Lord Ney cleared his throat. There was no real need to do so, everyone was waiting for him anyways, given that he was the one who called for this banquet.

"Starting this week, my little girl, you will be studying with Dawnstar. I have called upon Father Erdos from the capital to instruct you both, together. You have outgrown your current tutor."

"But Father, he is only three!" Ravenna protested.

"What of it? The tutor assures me that his proficiency is just as good as yours. Which means that he is just as good as you, an eight year old, or you are only as good as him, a three year old.  Well, you sure as hell wet your bed like one."

God Damn.

Edward struggled to keep his composure. The sheer joy that welled up within him was only kept at bay with an iron will and face of stone. He never expected such success. Initially, he had planned to goad Ravenna into attacking him publicly. He knew his value as a hostage, suffering a short term pain was a small price for Ravenna to unwittingly interfere with her father's plans.

This will do, though. Oromia, I kept my promise. But if what I want is gonna just land in my lap, I'm not so ungrateful to reject it.

Tears welled up in Ravenna face. She ran off before she cried.

"You didn't have to do that, she is your only daughter ", the usually taciturn Lady Ney spoke up.

"It is because she is my daughter that I need to do this. She is my only trueborn heir. You let up for one moment of weakness, and you can lose everything. I -", Lord Ney glances at Edward, then stops himself.

"We will talk of this later." A finality in Lord Ney's tone indicated that he wished to hear no more.

The argument between the Lord and Lady which was brewing during dinner, erupted at night, and several nights after.

Edward slept soundly despite the ruckus.