Mom told me with my beauty, I’d make friends. She told me with my gift, I’d inspire. But she never imagined it’d cause me only pain. They wanted to take my belongings, my life, my beauty away. And they could. They could take everything but my essence.
I stood up, holding on to what was left of my pride with my uniform covered in mud. Mom wasn’t of this world anymore, but Uncle would come to pick me up soon. It was temporary, he said. On holidays, I’d be with him. I just needed to hold on a bit longer.
The sisters raced in our direction, breaking the circle to join me. For them, I was a spoiled child with vanity for sin. Vain and too proud, they called me. The other girls remained silent, a wicked self-satisfied smile on their faces.I hate them.
“It’s her.” One pointed her finger at me as the others followed.
Mother Anne grabbed my arm harshly to force me to go once again to the place of my nightmares for my punishment. Fighting was useless. We walked into the lifeless hallway, my tears not stopping.
“Conceited girl, you need to learn how to behave,” she yelled before throwing me into what felt like a cell.
It was a cold room with stone walls where at night you’d freeze sleeping on the floor mattress. It had no lights. That place was meant to break our spirit.
“Please don’t leave me alone here. I did nothing wrong!” I cried and begged so many times, but they were all pitiless.
“You’re not alone.” She was right. I was in hell, surrounded by demons. “You’re a sinner who deserves to be here. You need to stop causing problems, and you’ll learn how to behave the hard way. It’s for your own good,preciouschild.”
She locked the door behind her, leaving me with my horrors. I wished nothing of me remained in this world. The room was without scent but for the smell of chaos and despair.
My mom used to say we all had a guardian angel. So every night, I prayed that mine would save me. But instead, all I saw were monsters in the night. There were no scented candles to calm me down nor to protect me from them.
The hours passed. I felt my skin turning blue, my lips drying, and my essence vanishing. I was a flower born in the wrong field, and I was fading, losing each of my petals.
I thought my mind was playing tricks on me when I heard footsteps behind my door.
“Please…” I was so chilled with terror that even my voice shivered.
I inhaled the scent. Mostly strong and powerful, it had a touch of vanilla. The one carried on a pirate boat that had landed on a tropical island where men battled with swords and women wore corsets. The scent somehow smelled masculine, even though it wasn’t possible. No boys were allowed here. Apart from the Father, who was the director of the Institute for Young Ladies. All I knew was that it appeased me, transporting me to an adventure of a lifetime.
My guardian angel had come.
The stranger slid a bar of candy from under the door—only privileged children had those.
“How did you find it?”
My guardian angel remained silent.
“What’s your name?” I asked, ripping the candy bar’s paper open to eat it.
He or she started to leave before I implored, “Please. Stay. We don’t have to talk.”
The footsteps stopped, and my companion sat behind my door.
My guardian angel stayed silently by my side, that day, and the many others to come. Protecting me by watching over me, being my hope. Until that day.
The day when my guardian angel abandoned me.
Forever.
Iexhaled sharply, watching the last car leave through the gothic gates—with its two passengers standing and raising their arms above the convertible, continuing a madness of their own. That shitshow was finally over. I couldn’t handle any more social interactions with any of my guests. They were just useless pawns, thinking their blood made them royals or, even more delusional, gods. Little did they know, their cravings for fame, power, and lust enslaved them to me.
At 6 a.m. sharp, the cleaning team invaded my domain to erase any traces of the New Year’s Eve extravaganza before noon.
The first rays of sun peeked through the gardens, the smoke of my cigar fogging the light. That was my cue to go. I sank deeper into my courtyard, having no desire to be disturbed nor to see more of those grey uniforms. They contemplated my property as if it was some touristic haunted house, imagining they’d be the chosen one to have a look at the monstrous Devil.Imbeciles.
My eyes darted to the greenhouse, paused, then shifted again.What the actual fuck.
The transparent windows let me glimpse the potting soil that was spilled on the ground, alongside crushed flowers that had been thrown all over. Pots were broken. Saying that it was a bloody mess was an understatement.
