Chương 3: Nowhere Left to Run

The three familiar faces waiting among the crowd belonged to my family, naturally. My father watched me with open disgust, while my mother wore the strained concern of someone more worried about scandal than the daughter about to burn. She was probably already imagining the whispers, the damage to their precious name, and every way my execution might threaten the future they had built for Elias at my expense. Then there was my brother.

That bastard stood near the front of the crowd with the largest smirk I had ever seen stretched across his face. He had inherited Mother's blond hair and the bright blue eyes of a storybook prince, along with the kind of handsome features that made village girls sigh whenever he passed. I had never understood their fascination, although one person's treasure had always been another person's trash.

Elias raised both fists to his eyes and rubbed them dramatically, pretending to cry before looking up at me and mouthing two words I couldn't hear over the crowd. Poor Helena… the world narrowed around him. The shouting villagers became distant, the man reading my supposed crimes faded into an irritating buzz, and the stones striking my shoulders, arms, and legs barely registered as they bounced away. All I could see was my brother, his smile, his expensive coat, and the future purchased with my life.

Heat began rising beneath my feet. When I looked down, fire had already taken hold beneath me. Smoke climbed around my ankles as the flames spread through the wood, accompanied by shouts of purification and cheers from the crowd. A witch trial... because apparently being reborn into a miserable fantasy world wasn't enough; I also had to stumble into Salem. Of course that was where my second life had taken me. I didn't know what year it was or whether this world was truly Earth rather than some twisted imitation.

The roads were dirt, the houses were timber, the law belonged to men with titles, and people still believed tying a young woman above burning wood made them righteous. The world was primitive, cruel, and unpleasantly familiar. When the fire finally reached my bare feet, I braced myself for agony. Instead, I felt warmth. Nothing more… That surprised me nearly as much as the fact that I could still hear the blood moving through every throat in the square.

Since my awakening, or whatever this nightmare had become, my body had changed in ways I couldn't begin to understand.

"Vampire" was the word my mind kept returning to, but vampires were supposed to be dead, were they not? My heart still beat. It was slower and strangely heavy, yet undeniably present beneath the hunger. Whatever I had become, I could investigate it later. I had no intention of dying before my family did. The ropes surrounding me were thick, while iron chains crossed over them and wrapped around my waist, wrists, and ankles as though the village had attempted to bind fear itself.

For several breaths, I believed the restraints might actually hold me. Then I pulled. The ropes split apart, iron shrieked, and the chains burst away from my body before falling into the flames in useless pieces. I dropped from the pyre and landed barefoot upon the dirt road below, sending smoke rolling around my legs as fragments of broken chain clattered at my feet. The entire crowd fell silent.

The curses stopped, the stones ceased flying, and the brave little speeches vanished from the mouths of men who had felt powerful only while standing behind everyone else. I raised my head and found my family among the frozen faces. Elias took one immediate step backward. My father remained where he was, though his face flushed red with fury rather than fear. Even after watching me tear through rope and iron as though they were thread, he continued looking at me as though I had embarrassed him during dinner.

"You vile, ungrateful creature," he spat, his voice carrying effortlessly across the square. My father had always known how to make any room belong to him.

"Even now, you find new ways to disgrace us," he declared.

"We gave you one chance to make yourself useful, and this is how you repay your family?" His lip curled as his gaze dragged across my bloodstained body, silver-white hair, and glowing eyes.

"Look at yourself… at what you've become. You're a demon wearing my daughter's skin." My daughter… The words nearly made me laugh.

"You were wrong from the moment you were born," he spat.

"There was always something empty in you. No charm, no beauty, and no obedience unless it was beaten into you. Your mother and I endured eighteen years of your sullen face, your uselessness, and your endless ingratitude." He stepped toward me. Somehow, the fool actually came closer.

"We gave you one chance to serve this house and repay the burden of raising you. Lord Vane was more than you deserved, yet you still ruined everything. You ruined him, you ruined this family, and now you have ruined us." His hand rose, one accusing finger aimed toward me like the point of a blade.

"Had I known what kind of monster slept inside you, I would've drowned you in your cradle." The square remained silent, allowing everyone to hear every word. I absorbed each ugly syllable and every ounce of hatred he had polished into righteousness until he finally paused to draw breath. Then I began walking toward him. I moved slowly, not because I needed to, but because I wanted him to watch me approach. My father held his ground, and for the briefest moment, I almost respected him for it.

Then I noticed the tremor in his jaw and the quick glance he cast toward the shattered chains that bound me only moments ago. Love what you're reading? Discover and support the author on the platform they originally published on. It was not courage keeping him in place, but disbelief. Even now, he couldn't imagine a world in which he stood powerless before me. I stopped less than a foot away, close enough to smell wine on his breath and see sweat gathering near his temple.

He opened his mouth, but my hand closed around his throat before another word escaped. His voice vanished beneath my fingers as I lifted him into the air. A collective gasp rolled through the crowd. My father kicked once, his boots scraping against nothing while both hands clawed desperately at my wrist. His nails dug into skin that no longer cared, and his face darkened as his mouth opened and closed around useless, strangled sounds. I stared up at him. All my life, that voice had filled every room I entered.

It had judged me, corrected me, sentenced me, and reduced me to less than human. It had ordered servants to beat me, named my suffering discipline, and sold my body while calling the act a family duty. Now he couldn't even beg properly. A low laugh escaped me.

"That's much better." Something struck my back, followed by another blow and then another. For a moment, I nearly wondered who had decided to give me a massage in the middle of my father's execution. When I glanced over my shoulder, I found my mother pounding both fists against me. Her face was twisted with the same demeaning fury she had worn whenever I failed to become the daughter she could tolerate.

"Put him down!" she shrieked.

"Put him down, you filthy creature! Look what you've done! Look what you're doing to us!" To us… echoed in my mind. My father continued kicking weakly in my grip. Beyond my mother's shoulder, I saw Elias turn and sprint toward the trees. A smile spread across my face. Without hesitation or regret, I twisted my hand. My father's neck snapped with a surprisingly small sound, disappointingly quiet considering how much space his voice had occupied throughout my life.

I released him, and his body collapsed into the dirt at my feet before the entire village. My mother stared down at him, and then slowly raised her eyes toward me. For one foolish heartbeat, I wondered whether she might finally see me as her daughter. She did not.

"You monster," she whispered before her voice rose into a scream.

"Monster! Demon! Curse! I should've known there was nothing human inside you!" Her insults spilled over one another. She called me wicked, unclean, the ruin of her house, the shame of her womb, and the daughter she wished had never drawn breath. I watched her without speaking. I didn't know what she saw in my eyes, whether it was the violet light burning within them or the complete absence of anything she recognized. When I raised my right foot, my mother stepped away from me for the first time in her life.

She was too late. I drove my foot into her chest. Bone collapsed beneath my heel, followed by the unmistakable crack of ribs and the crushing surrender of everything soft beneath them. Her body flew much farther than I expected, thrown across the road like a discarded doll before striking a tree at the edge of the square. She hit the trunk with a wet, final sound and dropped into the dirt without moving. The crowd erupted into screams, but I barely noticed. My attention had already shifted toward the forest.

Elias was running. The coward was actually attempting to escape. A sharp, breathless laugh tore from my throat as I chased after him. My first step nearly sent me crashing forward, not because I was weak, but because I was far too fast. The village blurred around me as wind struck my face and dirt tore beneath my bare feet. Trees that should've taken long moments to reach rushed toward me in mere heartbeats. Strength wasn't the only gift my awakening had given me. I heard Elias long before I saw him.

His frantic breathing carried through the trees, accompanied by panicked sobs, snapping branches, and boots crushing through leaves. Above it all, I heard his pulse. Each frantic beat thundered louder than everything else, the terrified rhythm of a rabbit trapped inside the chest of the brother who had once counted my punishments aloud. My smile widened.

"There you are." I followed the sound deeper into the forest without touching him at first. One moment, Elias was crashing through the trees while gasping, sobbing, and stumbling over roots. Next, I appeared directly in his path. He screamed. It wasn't a startled shout or an angry curse, but a full, terrified scream ripped from somewhere deep within him. Elias fell backward and scrambled away across the ground on his hands and heels, kicking dirt and leaves like a frightened animal.

I watched him for several seconds before smiling. Pure joy spread through me. I had never felt anything like it in either of my lives. There had been no happiness waiting in that house, at that table, or inside any of those cold rooms where I learned that silence usually hurt less than resistance. Watching Elias finally understand fear was different. It was delicious. He struggled to his feet and ran in the opposite direction. I allowed him six seconds. Then I appeared in front of him.

He choked on another scream and nearly collided with a tree, which dragged a laugh from me so unfamiliar that even I was startled by the sound. Again he ran, and again I appeared. Each time, he stumbled away with his face wet from tears and mucus, all that golden beauty dissolving into something red-eyed, filthy, and pathetic. I repeated the game several more times before the pleasure began to fade. That was when Elias, in all his desperate stupidity, reached the end of the forest.

A cliff opened behind him, dropping at least a hundred feet toward jagged stone and black water. Cold wind rose from the ravine and moved against my bloodstained skin. Elias stopped barely a step from the edge before turning to face me. There was nowhere left for him to run. The cliff waited behind him, while I stood between him and the forest. My brother stood trapped between me and the cliff, trembling so violently that the polished image everyone admired had finally cracked.

Beneath the charm, the fine clothes, and the handsome face, there was nothing left but a coward. A slow smile spread across my lips as I stepped toward him. He raised both hands.

"Helena, wait." I kept moving.

"I'm sorry," he blurted.

"I'm sorry, all right? I didn't mean any of it. You know how I am. I joke and say foolish things. That's all it ever was."

"A joke?" My voice emerged softer than I intended, and Elias flinched as though I had shouted. He nodded frantically.

"Yes, exactly… It was a stupid joke. I should never have said those things. I was only teasing you."

"Teasing me." My smile widened, and his entire body recoiled from it.

"If you're sorry," I asked, "why are you crying?" His mouth opened, but no answer came. I tilted my head.

"Is it a guilty conscience, or are you afraid your karma has finally caught up with you?"

"Please," he whispered. I moved closer, and he retreated until loose pebbles shifted beneath his boots and vanished over the edge. Their impact against the rocks below reached us several seconds later.

"Tell me, dear brother, what was it like to have everything handed to you?" His brow furrowed.

"What are you talking about?"

"The tutors, the warm rooms, the new coats, the horse, the inheritance, Mother's smile, Father's patience, and every future they ever promised you. They placed every good thing that family possessed directly into your hands." His expression tightened.

"Helena, this isn't the time for…"

"You had everything," I cut in, my voice carrying through the trees. His lips trembled.

"Do you remember what I received for my fifteenth birthday?" Elias shook his head.

"Of course you don't." A bitter laugh left me.

"They gave me a secondhand doll at fifteen years old. It had one missing eye and a dress that smelled of mildew, something I might have appreciated at five if anyone had cared enough to let me be a child while I still was one." I stepped closer, and Elias looked over his shoulder toward the drop.

"Meanwhile, I watched your magnificent life from the dark."

"That was our parents," he blurted.

"Not me." The words died as soon as he noticed my expression change. I stared at him slowly enough to make him swallow.

"You were worse than either of them."

"No..."

"Yes." I closed the remaining distance between us.

"You were the worst because you enjoyed it. Father ignored me, and Mother corrected everything I did, but you turned their cruelty into a game." His breathing hitched. I raised my voice into a sweet, mocking imitation of his younger self.

"Another gift for me, Helena… Jealous? Perhaps next time they'll remember they have a daughter." The color drained from his face. I continued before he could recover.

"Then there was my personal favorite… Why would a girl need anything important? You're only useful for getting married off." My throat tightened around the memory.

"That was Mother's cruelty before you decided to make it your own." Wind moved through the trees and carried my words toward the cliff.

"What kind of mother says that to her daughter?" I whispered.

"What kind of woman looks at her child and decides the cruelty done to her should be passed down like an heirloom?" Elias remained silent. My hands curled at my sides.

"And Father..." For a moment, I saw him again as he had stood in the square, red-faced and commanding, disgusted by the daughter he had sold while somehow still blaming her for the consequences. Then I remembered the small, final sound of his neck breaking. A smile returned to my face.

"Then again, neither of them needs to worry anymore." Elias stared at me as the meaning settled over him.

"Mother?" he whispered. My smile widened.

"Father?" His voice cracked around my name.

"Helena…" I took another step, and his heel slipped against the edge of the cliff. With nowhere left to run, his only remaining choice was to face me.