Lucy

For the last three months everything had been hard, mainly because of my father. Though he hasn't said anything directly to me I could tell. It started off with the small things. The glances, sitting on the other side of the table, being withdrawn not looking at me directly and avoiding me.

This had been happening since my mother died, but now it was worse than ever. My maid said it's because I'm looking more like my mother every passing day.

I am both glad and displeased about this. I was glad that when I looked in the mirror I have an idea of what my mother looked like, but displeased on how my father treated me because of it.

I lost my mother when I was very young, and as I got older picturing her in my head became harder and harder. You would say just look at a picture of her or something, but it wasn't that easy. Anything that reminded my father of mother was put away in the attic behind a locked door. Pictures, family portraits or anything that reminded him.

But there were two days a year the door was unlocked.

My mother's birthday.

And the day she passed away.

But I was never allowed up there, so I find comfort at her grave. Where a small caved statue of her resides. But it looks nothing like her. I would sit there for hours talking to her about my days, my worries about father and how lonely I was without her. And I would give anything to be there than where I was now.

I sat at the kitchen table, where I had been ordered to sit for the past hour. My father passes back and forth at a strong pace; I could practically see worn marks in the floor because of it.

My eyes were downcast but I could feel the looks he would give me as he would pass by. I was feeling anxious and a feeling of dread was creeping into my stomach. The maids were standing silently at the wall unmoving, like the dead.

They made no attempt to come towards me, not that I blamed them not while my father was in the room. Father disapproved of the affection they would give me. I still remember what my father said, 'as a high born lady you mustn't familiarise yourself with them they are nothing but servants, you are a Heartfilia. Have some decency; I will have none of that in this house. Do you understand?' Right after that, my mother's maiden she used to be, stepped out of line, literally. She gave father a piece of her mind, saying maybe if he paid attention to me I wouldn't go trying to find comfort in servants or Layla's grave anymore. He scoffed at her and she was fired.

I missed her; she would sneak into my room with treats and tell me stories of my mother so I had something to remember her by. All I had of my mother now was faded memories and stories, her looks and a grave. This thought instantly makes me feel depressed, but I have to remember there are a lot happier people out there with a lot less then what I have.

The first noise that pulled me back into reality was the sound of gravel crunching under tires, the sound of a door slamming followed with the sound of a door bell. My father stopped pacing and stopped looking into one of the many mirrors we had and straightened his suit, readjusted his tie and fixed his collar. I watched him in the reflection; I saw the light coating of sweat on his brow the look of stress on his face highlighting his age lines. His expression was grim. He caught me looking and gave me a hard glare; I instantly refocused my eyes on my empty plate.

"Stay here, don't move. This is an important guest I have to meet" And with that he walked out of the room. I listened intently; I could hear the sounds of greeting followed by small mundane talk and then the sound of two pairs of footsteps going upstairs, then the clicking of locked doors.

"Don't worry it will all be over soon-"The first servant spoke she was the smallest, brown curly hair pulled back in a bun. Worry etched on her face.

"Meg hush!" The older servant scolded. This peaked my curiosity they barely kept anything from me. Even about my father so that they weren't telling me meant it was something juicy, and I loved the rare gossip around here. Since there wasn't much anyway.

"What is it?" I asked excitement in my voice. There were half a dozen servants lined against the wall each for their own thing and they all shared uncertain glances with one another not speaking. Some with their eyes downcast.

"Nothing you need to concern yourself with for the time being"

"For the 'time being?' does that mean it will have something to do with me in time?" I could hear worry coming into my voice with a slight shaking to it.

They said nothing.

"So it does huh?" I looked at the spoon as If it was the most fascinating thing I had ever seen.

"We didn't say that Lucy-sama"

"It's what you didn't say"

Silence.

I heard the unlocking from upstairs and straightened myself up.

And to my surprise it wasn't my father who entered the room.

It was a short man, with a bold patch on his head surrounded by small white hairs and a big moustache that he kept stroking. He wore a Hawaiian shirt and plain pants with sandals. Nothing like the usual business men that came through, he had lines around his mouth from smiling so much. He looked friendly and harmless.

But it was another sense that made my skin pickle when he walked in, that made my hairs stand up on my arms and the back of my neck. The feeling that made my heart beat faster and my eyes widen just ever so slightly.

But yet this was so familiar, like I had felt it somewhere before. Not from him but from someone else. Maybe mother? NO! That would be stupid. I dismissed the thought as fast as it came.

"Child, would you follow me?" He didn't sound threatening if anything concerned, I had only ever heard that sound from my maids.

I nimbly nodded and stood up, towering over him further. He gave me a small smile before walking out the room; I followed him to my father's study.

"Sit down child" He spoke again. My father cast a disapproving glance my way he never let me sit in here, but he made no move to stop me. I felt his glare intensify on me. Father looking at me made it seem like being under a microscope you would have more privacy. "Do you know why you're here child?"

"No" My mind was racing of possibilities but nothing logical came to mind.

"Do you know who I am?" He asked as if I should have a least some basic logic of it.

"Sorry, sir" He gave a look a disapproving look to my father.

"Jude leave us" Father looked shocked at the short man, I was shocked. I had never heard of someone say a command to him, or call him from his first name. He sat in the chair unsure what to do. I could practically read his thoughts. Should I stay and refuse him, or should I leave? Pushing up from his seat like it was the most unnatural thing he had ever done and walked to the door, he turned back to me giving me another look before closing the door behind him.

It was silent for a few minutes longer.

"Has your father told you anything about me?"

I shook my head.

"Have you heard off Fairy tail?"

I shook my head.

"Well I run Fairy Tail Mental Hospital. And I am sorry to say, you have been admitted"

So here is the first chapter, my muse left me and i thought it was best to leave it here.