"Milo," I yelled, only to be met with silence. "Are you okay?"

I walked in on Milo curled up crying on the sofa, his hair in tangled knots and an empty bottle of wine beside him.

"Zuri," Milo looked up at me. "What are you doing here?"

Alexei didn't tell him that I was coming home tonight. Of course, he didn't, he hated Milo.

I sat down next to Milo and put my feet on the ottoman, careful not to mess up the piles of notes for Milo's next project. The next thing I knew, Milo was curled up into my side, his head resting under my chin. He slid his feet next to mine and knocked over the piles I had ever so carefully attempted to avoid. No chance of rescuing Milo's notes now.

"Zuri, why is there a child here?" he whispered softly, "You know how much I hate children."

"There's nothing much I can do. Her father begged my father to kill her. I can't kill kids. Please just try to get along with her, okay?"

I grabbed a hairbrush from the side table and started running it through Milo's hair. Milo took pride in his hair, and to see it messy must mean something was wrong, but I was afraid to ask directly. A quiet comfortable silence descended upon us, quiet except for the occasional snore.

"Milo," I asked, "do you want to talk about it?"

"I got a letter from my father again today, Zuri. He keeps insisting that he wants his princess back and that he's found the perfect man for me, some duke from the 8th empire. I can't go back. Who knows what he'll do to me?"

Milo was crying harder now, his tears soaking through my shirt. Milo was born a girl to a sickly mother and a stubborn father. At the age of five, Milo lost his mother, and his father never recovered. At 209, Milo decided that he didn't want to be a girl anymore. This broke his father's already fragile heart. The perfect picture of the family he hoped to achieve was just an illusion. At 278, Milo fled his father's manor, bruised and bloody both inside and outside, and he had not spoken to him since.

Milo had lived a life of trauma and sorrow, one that should never be replicated, yet within his sorrow he grew to be the genius in front of me. Yet on nights like these, Milo's sadness leaked out of his carefully perfected facade, his true emotions much darker than those on the surface.

"Shhh, shhh, it's okay. Everything is going to be okay," I said as I ran my fingers through his hair, "Guess who I'm going to see at the ball?"

Milo looked up at me, sadness staining his cerulean eyes.

"Who?"

"Your father. And do you know what I'm going to tell him? That his prince of a son has found a wonderful princess and now spends his days pursuing his passions in a grand castle. That his son grew up to be a kind and brave person who loves his job and his life."

"Zuri, that's nice, but you can't say that to him. Imagine what the emperor would do."

I couldn't answer him. He was right.

We fell into the comfortable silence again, with only the snoring upstairs breaking it.

"Milo, I almost let the monster out again today," I whispered.

"Did they see you?"

"No one saw me, and I was able to hold it in. You should have seen it. I was able to blow open the east wing while chained inside of the silence box, no problem. My father thinks it was a technical malfunction, and I've gotten away clean."

"Zuri, you're hurting yourself," Milo pleaded, "He's going to find out."

Did he see the scars? He couldn't have.

"Shhh, it's okay. I can deal with him," I said.

Milo looked into my eyes, and I couldn't help but blush. He doesn't know what he does to me. If he told me to run away with him and start a new life somewhere far away I would. I couldn't say no to him, no matter how hard I tried.

"Let me see your wings, Zuri."

I couldn't say no. I opened up my shining white wings around us, wincing as the firewhip gashes scraped the sofa.

"Zuri," he laughed softly, "your wings look like they were trampled by a pegasus."

"I'm fine."

"You're not fine."

He reached out to touch my wings, and I instinctively jumped away from him, stumbling backward toward the exit. I can't hurt Milo. I can't.

I had a thing about being touched. I couldn't deal with it. I got scared. It was my body's way of protecting me from harm after so many long nights lying in the silence box covered in bruises. However, my natural instinct wasn't to run away, that was my self-control. My instinct was to fight the attacker and tear them limb from limb. My father had turned my instincts into a monster, one I fought every day to hold in. But I had no chance against something that only needs blood. The only thing I could do was run away.

"I have to go. Father dearest is expecting me."

"Zuri," Milo pleaded, "don't leave. I'm sorry. I didn't mean to make you uncomfortable."

It was a tempting offer, but I couldn't take it.

"Please, just stay. I'll make those waffles you love and we can spend the whole morning in our pajamas."

I backed out onto the porch, the railing behind me. I could feel the tears leaking out of my eyes, betraying my thoughts.

"Milo, I really have to go. Father doesn't know I'm not in the silence box. I'll be back-"

I already had both legs over the railing.

"When?" he shouted.

"-soon."

And without another word, I fled from the castle, crying because no matter how hard I tried to shove it down, the monster always resurfaced one way or another.