Indecision

I stare at the letter and turn it over in my hands, feeling the smooth texture of the paper between my fingertips. A strange sensation washes over my body, a mixture of exhilaration and fear tied up with pretty ribbons of anger and jealousy.

Bastard. Low-life. Bastard, bastard, bastard.

Those words play tag in my head as my eyes follow the lines of text I had ever so carefully printed onto the paper. It was very prettily done. My hands had formed his writing perfectly, even doing those curly G’s just the way he did. Strange, how easy it was for me to slip into his shoes.

Bastard. Lowlife. Bastard, bastard, bastard, bastard, BASTARD-

A scream of rage tears itself from my throat and I slam my hand on the desk before springing out of my chair.

BASTARD, BASTARD, BASTARD, BASTARD-

“Enough!”

I frantically run my fingers through my thick hair, pacing up and down the small room. My face is red, my skin covered in sweat, my heart quivering. My throat is bleeding with never-said rebuttals against those who had called me –

“Enough,” I whisper, my hands coming down to clutch at my face, my fingers covering my eyes. My voice is calmer now. Turning back slowly, my gaze returns to the letter. I don’t walk over to it. For a long time I just look at it. Part of me is holding back, trying to push the idea from my mind. I can feel my feet touching the edge. Once off I would never be able to return. I would fall into the darkness that was reaching up to wrap its soft, velvety arms around me like a lover. I could almost meet its embrace.

Almost.

I had been so close this morning. I had suffered the final humiliation, the new low that I could sink to.

 “Isn’t this your son my Lord?”

My father hesitated very slightly - a hesitation that made me flinch. I stared ahead, my face fixed in a position of polite interest. “Yes, I’ve been responsible for bringing him up.” He shot an amiable smile at me before looking back at Kent. “I’ve had to acknowledge that he’s my son so many times now that I can do it without embarrassment.”

Anger and humiliation rose in my belly like a snake, its fangs bared and dripping with venom. I couldn’t stop my face from burning red and my hands from clenching into fists behind my back, but I just barely managed to stop myself from screaming out my rage. I had just enough strength to do what I always had to do as a bastard – stand there and be insulted.

Kent’s eyes widened a fraction as he saw the dangerous look flash across my face, but they moved back to my father when he saw me looking at him. He hurriedly began talking again, his tone awkward and strained, his brows furrowed in confusion. I braced myself for what was coming.

“I can’t conceive you.”

“You can’t conceive? Well his mother could all too well.” Gloucester laughed heartily and clapped me on the back, not noticing as my body stiffened, my nostrils flaring ever so slightly as my resentment grew to a fever pitch inside me. “She grew a big belly and had a baby before she had a husband. Doesn’t something seem odd to you?” He raised an eyebrow. My nose wrinkled involuntarily for a moment before I noticed and checked myself. Bile lapped at the back of my mouth.

Kent’s mouth fell open a little as understanding flashed across his face. His eyes flicked back and forth between my father and I, and as if sensing my discomfort he quickly said: “Well I wouldn’t want the fault to be undone, since the boy turned out so well.” He tried to smile at me, but I didn’t notice. All I could focus on was my growing humiliation.

“I do have however, a legitimate heir a year older than this one-” I only just managed to keep from rolling my eyes. His words were like fuel to my slowly growing resentment, fanning the flames until they were red hot. Legitimate Edgar. Legitimate. How nice that word was. All because he was lucky enough that his parents were married when he was born. What did I get? Bastard. Low-life. Illegitimate. As if somehow it was my fault.

 “-and I don’t love him any more than I love my bastard.”

BASTARD, BASTARD, BASTARD, BASTARD, BASTARD-

Every thought in my head turned into white noise as those words escaped my father’s mouth – or rather, that one specific word. In my belly the snake hissed at the sound of it, spraying venom. The obvious lie also prodded at me, building my frustration to a boiling point. It was obvious who he loved more, and it wasn’t me. I stared straight ahead, a muscle thumping in my jaw as I tried to ignore the small part of me that wanted to believe him.

 “Do you know this gentleman Edmund?”

I started, ripping myself from my thoughts as my father looked at me expectantly. Kent’s eyes were still bouncing around between us, though his face quickly adopted an expression of polite interest as I forced my lips into a smile and extended my hand.

I reach down and once again pick up the letter, trying to force myself over the edge. Something stops me at the precipice.

“I don’t love him any more than I love my bastard.”

I wince, sliding back down into the chair.

 “Then why?” I raise my eyes to the ceiling.  “Why did you call me that? Why is that all I’m ever called?” The letter drops from my fingers onto the desk. “Always. Bastard. Low-life. Bastard. What’s the difference between Edgar and I, apart from our mothers? I’m just as smart, just as capable, just as strong. And yet…” Resentment bubbles up in my stomach, spreading through my veins, boiling in my blood. “And yet I’m treated like this!” The last word erupts from me in a snarl and I slam my fist on the desk, standing up once more. Everything is clear now.

I step off the edge, my lips pulling up into a serene smile.

 “For once I will be on top. The bastard will beat the legitimate. So, Edgar…” I laugh quietly, taking my seat once more and pulling the letter into my hands. “I need your land.”

I can hear my father coming and quickly arrange myself, trying to conceal my fiendish delight.

Legitimate. What a nice word that was.