Chương 1: Prologue : Life and Birth

Liar. Thief. Unloved. Unwanted. Homewrecker. I've been called every name in the book. Every single one. It's part of life. My life, at least. Nothing good ever happens to me. I try my best. I spin the finest lies and flatter when I need to get ahead. I cheat and win. I take the longest road, but perhaps not the highest, on the highway to obtaining what I want. Because nothing in life is free. Nothing is just handed to you. Not anymore. Handouts stop when you're little and too dim-witted to do anything for yourself.

I locked my heart away and turned around so I could face forward instead of back. I'm not allowed to just sit down and rest for a minute, watch life as it passes me by; there's too much to do. Too many goals and expectations to live up to. After all, I earned those names. Now I have a new name. One that hurts more than all of the others. A scream. A mourning cry for the departed. Departed. I'm probably dead. It's not a question or a cry for help.

I'm dead —blood pools out from underneath me—a small pond ripples with every addition to its liquid body. A small red pond spreads outwards on a dirty floor, and at its center is a girl. Vacant eyes glued to the not-sky. Ordinary looking. A magnet for trouble. A hot temper. Is that all they'll say about me? Black long hair spread around her in a halo that's always been—always was considered her single redeeming attractive quality. The one thing a passerby remembers.

Save that passage for the obituary, why don't you? Is this really my fault? Isn't there something I could've said that could have prevented this. My death was fast approaching from the moment I was born. Playing with my strings and manipulating me until I gave her a show worth ending. I know this was you. I mean it has to be. Only you. Am I really worth it?

"Say it!" A kick to my side pulls my attention away from my depressing end-of-life monologue. Nerve endings deaden, and I don't respond. I say nothing. Nothing at all. The floor feels warm underneath me. Sticky and wet. But warm. Uncontrollable shivers spread from my head down to my fingers—twitching and taking on a pretty shade of egg blue. My entire body quakes, sending little droplets further away from me, abruptly relaxing as my fingers lose feeling. My rib cage shudders, and I hear his shouts.

His frantic pacing. He's scared. He's scared? Of what? No one's coming. I didn't scream. He used a knife that he could probably just throw away. He leans over me, and I hold my breath. Blood trickles up my throat, and I cough it up in his face. He retches and turns away to throw up. Sorry.

"This is all your fault! Love me! Look at me! That was all I asked…" He slams his hand down next to my face. It's covered in me. Dripping red.

"I gave you everything!"

"How could you…?" He rambles to himself, and my eyes slowly rake over this house. This is it. This is the last thing I will ever see. Beige popcorn walls covered in photos of me. Going to classes, volunteering, everything. A messy bed. A dark wooden floor. Mounds of trash piled high in corners. His face. Young—surprisingly young. It's no excuse, but perhaps a reason why it all happened so quickly, why it had to be today, and why he couldn't wait even a little bit longer —just a little more time.

Seventeen just seems so short and quick. So… unfair. I didn't even have a chance.

"I'm sorry. I'm so sorry." He chants over my body and collects me in his arms. He hugs me and brushes my hair so tenderly that I almost forgot he was the one plunging a knife in me manically only moments before.

"You asked me! You asked me with your glances!" He bellowed stirring up a racket sure to call attention to the gruesome truth of it all.

"You did this to me!" Someone's definitely going to hear if you keep shouting. Blinding hot pain exploded whenever his knife exited the hole it had made. I burned. I cried. I didn't beg, but I tried to. The words just wouldn't form. They floated in the air and disappeared into bubbles of nothing. I used to know, but now… My vision darkens, and I can't even feel his tears anymore. I can hear them. Dripping. Splat. Over and over. He chants my name. Over and over. Maybe it's him, and maybe it's me.

I can't tell anymore. I don't know anymore. If he wants it so bad. My miserable existence. He can have it. He can have it all. And then he's gone or… Maybe I am. Being gone. Being nothing. It's like I'm being rinsed and bathed in cold water. It's soft. Letting go is easy. Dying is easy. Being a ghost is peaceful. It's a break. A gift of respite after all of that running. This story originates from a different website. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there.

I drift off and close my eyes that can no longer see anything anymore and surrender. I stay like that for a long time. It's all over in a blink anyway. Life, I mean. It's so short. Little moments expand like a patient, heaving, thirsty beast and explode like a balloon. It lands all over. Like confetti. Sprouting in the darkness and prowling around blindly searching. For someone to devour. Alone in the dark, it's so— Well, it was quiet. My entire being is crushed. Squeezed. Juiced.

I'm yanked by my stomach into a blender and pushed out. Then in. Then out. Terrible. This awful thing is happening to me and it's so loud. So bright. I hate this.

"One more!" A final cry rings out and my torment ends. I'm completely ripped out of the blender and into warm hands. Scratchy fabric and rough hands wrestle with my flailing form. Sensitive and wet. The towel I'm wrapped in is pulled away and a chorus of shouts begin.

"A girl!"

"Is it true?"

"Lillie, go tell the master. Madam? Madam? Get help! Get the doctors!" I'm carried away by those who scream and those who cry. Warm hands pat my back and make me cough up this burning fluid. I hate it. I hate this.

"There's too much blood..."

"There. Good girl. A fighter aren't you?" Strange words. They're not English but I can feel them. I can feel their intent. I know what she's saying. But why? I don't understand. Why is this happening to me? I can't comprehend this nightmare. She soothingly pats my back and rocks me gently. Who are you? There's a loud bang and I can hear footsteps.

"The master has decided!" All noise ceases. Even the hands holding me still and the woman's breath catches in her throat. Her chest stills and her heart speeds up. Decided what?

"The master has given her life and the first mistress has bestowed a name. Miseria." Given life? Mistress? Cheers erupt in the room and the hands holding me tighten. My sensitive skin burns from the contact and I let out a wail. No. No. No. I think I know what this is. It's impossible.

"Good girl. Oh, it's ok. You have such strong lungs." Just like before. The first time around. I'm starting to understand it. Just like how I died I was reborn. I'm alive again. I scream and wail. Let me go! I hate it here! It's not fair. She shushes me and places a soft kiss on the crown of my forehead. She rocks me underneath the moonlight. Letting me bathe in its glow. It's everything I never wanted but from the wrong person. At the wrong time. In another life. The wrong life.

Sleep takes me and I surrender in hope that I'll never wake up again. And like most hopes. That's crushed. Over and over again. It's like I'm a piece of laundry in a dryer. Just let me go already. Spinning with confusion I tried o open my sticky eyes. When I woke up again, I was in a bassinet or some type of cradle. My skin itches from the clothes I'm wearing. I tried to hold it in, but I eventually let out a few whimpers.

"Oh, is it that time? Come here." Warm hands reach down and pull me from my decorated cage. They settle me against warm skin and a drum. No. A heartbeat. It thuds in my ears just like a drum and in response my own joins the drumline. Something is shoved into my mouth and I chew in curiosity. Is that— I spit it out and gag. No way. No freaking way. Tears sting my eyes and I refuse. Absolutely refuse to be humiliated this way. I try to move away but whoever's captured me won't budge.

My eyes open briefly and I shut them. Sleep. Sleep. Sleep. Leave me alone.

"What's wrong?"

"She's refusing my lady. She wants to go back to bed I believe."

"That won't do. Give her to me." Familiar rough calloused hands pried open my mouth, forced me to latch, and held my tiny nose until I just couldn't breathe. I suck in the air reflexively until what I'm sucking hits my tongue. Chalky sweet milk. Kill me. Kill me now. The traitor lets go of my nose, and I let go again. The process is repeated until I learn my lesson, which is to bide my time until I can take revenge. Mark my words: I will avenge this.

"That's a relief. Hungry weren't you? Thank you, Lady Helen."

"It does not matter. This is our duty to our Madam."

"When shall we…?" They converse with each other and I fall asleep to the steady rhythm of her heart. The next day I did the same. Next week is no different. Every day I drink, get burped, get changed, go to sleep, and wake up. That was my life for a month. Things changed a lot after that time. For better and for worse. Any shame I previously had is stripped from me with every passing second. At the same time the amount of mobility and control I have increased over my useless infant body. Like my eyes.

It was weird completely opening them for the first time. What used to be so blurry was now much clearer. Especially faces—for instance, those who attended to me. My biological family is either royalty, an occultist, crazy, or just plain weird. Who calls themselves masters and enlists servants? Not a sane person. I can recognize some of the aspiring mental cases now. Take, for instance, Lady Helen. My nemesis. Who looks tough to the bones and ripped to the gills.

Short cropped brown hair and an eyepatch over her left eye socket. Masculine features and the physique of a bodybuilder underneath the complicated layered garments she wore. Belts strung around her shoulders holding armor snug around her waist. Draping gauze, braided leather, and silk straps completed the odd sight. However, she's got strange-ears-itis too. But her ears rest on her crown and are canine-shaped. Lillie the short blond maid with strange features.

Who popped in every now and then to poke at my cheek or coo at me. Her bright emerald eyes and pointed ears always caught my hard-earned attention. Then there was her. My second nemesis after Helen. Sarabse. My nursemaid. Milkmaid? Nanny? Something like that. She's my main caretaker in whatever language they speak. Her light green hair is cut short in a bob to her chin and her kind chocolate eyes are always on me when I wake up.

"Awake already? You must be able to sense all the excitement. Shall we get started?" She scoops me up out of my cradle and settles me in her arms. She talks to me a lot even though I can't respond. Like right now.

"Do you know what day it is? No? Then I'll tell you. It's your three-month anniversary of being apart of this glorious household. In other words, your Moon's celebration. Tonight you will be celebrated by your entire family and granted the family name. Are you excited?" I snort and bury my head in her shoulder. Who would be excited about being alive? This is the single worst thing to ever happen to me. Also what family? Am I finally going to meet these mysterious parents? The rest of the day flew by in a flurry.

Sarabse dressed me in a softer puffy gown, so that was a plus. Nervous energy hung in the air, and I ignored it as usual. Only one thing did attract my attention as we headed down a dark hallway I had never seen before. Large stained-glass windows cast colored lights on a dark floor. At the end of the shadow-laden hallway was a woman dressed in a gorgeous black, gold, and lilac gown. She was tall in comparison to Sarabse but short in comparison to Helen, who was escorting her.

She slowly descended out from the darkness and stalked towards us with a chilling aura that sent shivers down my spine. All except Sarabse who held me tighter in my arms kneeled at the sight of her. Impassive. A fortress. The closer she got the more details I could discern and she was beautiful. With skin the color of grapes, hair the shade of milk, and strands so long that it brushed the floor. She was a living breathing statue of unearthly beauty. Her dark eyes laid upon me.

The iris was mauve but the pupil was white and extended outwards like branches. She's a beautiful alien. Sarabse's voice takes on a reverent tone.

"I present to you Miseria Noxcissa. Rejoice, madam. She is perfect." Her hands propped me up and she faced the monument herself. Almost reluctantly the statue gingerly plucked me out of Sarabse's embrace. Her hands were delicate. Soft. Uncalloused and cold. She inspected me up and down before whisking me away.

"Rejoice." The hallway was filled with sighs of relief as she carried me towards double doors made of black wood. I played with her hair and inspected the woman. From what I could glean from passing conversations and my overall experience in this life. This was my mother. Helen whispered to the guards at the end of the hallway and they bowed and opened the doors for us. Light streamed in and my name was announced after hers.

"Announcing! Rejoice in the presence of Naithe Noctiluca Lark. First of her namesake, Queen of the Sunless Forest, and treasured wife of Duke Eligia Duccanes. Accompanying her is Miseria Noxcissa. First of her namesake, daughter to Princess Naithe, and Duke Eligia. Rejoice!"