"Why are you so mean to me?" Unconsciously, Thomas his hands go to his face to wipe away the tears and he heard himself sniffle.

God, why am I being so emotional?

As Earl approached Thomas, the crying one turned his head to look away, when he spotted the table beside him. Earl was about five feet away from him, so he grabbed the side of the table he was closest to. Gathering all his strength, he lifted the end of the small reading table. Being lifted, the table looked like a card being swept by the wind, clumsily flying.

"Thomas, what are you doing?" Earl's face looked a little sterned as he fastened his walking pace towards the fuming boy.

"Don't you dare get any closer to me!" Thomas, with a surge of energy, pushed the wooden object heavily onto Earl, who was desperatly trying to brace himself with his arms.

Luckily, Earl wasn't heart, and Thomas felt himself relieved. But, without a moment's time he kicked his feet on the ground and ran as fast as he could while Earl pushed himself out from beneath the table.

Why am I running?

Thomas sped to the front door, setting his sweaty palms on the doorknob, expecting it to be locked. It wasn't, luckily.

I know you're not locked, but please open and don't fall on me or anything. I had to get hurt to get my way since I got here. Don't let this be the same.

Oh, it was way too easy. Thomas flinched from the sudden swing of the door. But, gathering strength from his unstable breathing, he stepped out and ran, forgetting to close the door behind him and forgetting to wipe away the tears that dotted the outdoor stairs.

----

Earl ran to the door, limping onto his sprained ankle. As he was, he spotted Diane standing on the staircase to upstairs, dusting.

"Where are you going, Master Blackwood?" Diane asked, abruptly stopping the movement of the feather duster in her right hand.

"Nowhere" was Blackwood's answer, "Now, excuse me, I wish to take a walk."

"Good bye."

"Good day."

And the door was shut, Earl disappearing from sight.

Diane continued to brush off the soft particles of dust off of the handles of the staircase. A smirk carved its way onto her lips.

She set the feather duster down onto the step she was standing on, and she walked to the front door. She locked it.

--

Why am I running? I must stop. I have to return to the mansion...er...I thought it was called the Moltenburg house. Wierd name... No! No! I will not return. Maybe I should ask someone around this street to help me.

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Keyword: The Battle of Moltenburg

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