Not well

I'm about to push the door open to Aisha's room, when the guard on standby stops me. I'm about to roll my eyes and explain that I'm the Princess' pet, when I notice that there is an ungodly fear in her eyes.

"Be careful, young man," she cautions me.

I nod wordlessly, my mouth dry and my heart hammering in my chest as I enter.

What I walk into can only be described as chaos.

Aisha has gone into a full-blown tantrum. She's thrown clothes around, and has even broken a few things. My corner of the room is a mess, too.

In the center of all the madness, Aisha stands there, hugging her knees to her chest, rocking in place as she silently sobs.

I gently close the door behind me, and lock it - I don't want anyone to see her like this. I don't know why she seems to have gone absolutely berserk, but it's harrowing.

"Aisha?"

"I'm sorry..."

I frown as I approach her. "Sorry for what?"

I see that she's sitting in front of a framed photo of her and her mother. Well... framed is a strong word.

The frame has been smashed, and the photo torn in uneven pieces. She's done her best to reorganize the scraps into their proper shape, but the damage is irreparable.

"I don't know why I did this..." She looks around at her room, speaking in a high-pitched, strained voice.

I sit down across from her. "Have you...ever done anything like this before?"

Unsurprisingly, she nods. I nod too, deep in thought.

"This is going to sound like a judgy question, but... how old are you now?"

"I'm eighteen..." A hiccup shakes her entire body. "This is ridiculous, isn't it? An eighteen year old throwing a tantrum like this..."

"Just a little," I admit, with a jovial tone. "But honestly...I've done this, too."

She looks at me in shock. "You have?"

"Yeah. I felt very alone and frustrated. I felt like the only way to express myself was to just...lash out at the things around me." Her expression tells me everything I need to know - she feels the same way as I did, back then.

"Alright - I'm gonna get started on cleaning this up. Feel free to jump in whenever you're ready."

With that, I wordlessly begin to clean the mess she's made. Thankfully, according to the plan, her mother had a servant drop off cleaning supplies just inside the room.

I pick up a broom, and get to cleaning the shards of dishes on the floor.

For being a high-tech civilization, their methods of cleaning really haven't changed much.

I lose myself in my work, picking up clothes, books, pillows... It's a lot to pick up.

I groan inwardly as I look into her closet. She's dumped basically all of her clothing onto the floor. And it's a LOT of clothing.

After a few moments, I notice that Aisha is carefully placing the bits of the photograph and its frame on a clear spot on a table. She then takes a deep breath to steady herself, and joins me in picking up the results of her rampage.

It takes the better part of the afternoon, but we do eventually finish. My back hurts a bit from bending over so much- I'm only 25 and already having these pains...

Aisha sits on her bed, which I helped her make, and I sit down next to her.

"So...d'you want to talk about it?"

"I was just...so angry...and scared..." she sniffs, wrapping her arms around herself in a hug. "I thought that...everyone was abandoning me..."

"That's not a good enough reason for this, though."

She glares at me, and I can immediately see a tantrum coming again. But I'm not going to just roll over and give up. I've seen plenty of manipulative young adults throw tantrums, sometimes even in public, to get out of people being mad at them.

So, I forge on, fulfilling my role as Royal Pain in the Ass.

"And you're still going to have to clean this room, you know. You can't keep letting shit pile up like you did."

"You're just like her! You don't care about me!" She immediately resorts to yelling, expecting me to roll over like her servants.

"If that's what you want to believe," I reply, coolly.

She clenches her fists. "You're supposed to be my pet!"

"And you've done nothing but ignore me."

She doesn't have a response to that. So, instead of discussing things, she goes straight to what she knows works - she starts to throw a tantrum, with myself as the target.

She lunges towards me, pushing me onto the bed as she starts to slap at my head. Given her dimunitive stature, it's easy for me to roll her over, pinning her against the bed by her wrists. She struggles against me, kicking her feet as she does.

"Fucking look at yourself, this is ridiculous!"

She does just that - she looks down at herself, up at me, and then at each of her wrists.

Then, she looks into my eyes with the single most confusing expression I've ever seen in my entire life, and whispers seven words that rock me to my core.

"A...are you finally going to **** me?"