Page 1 of Heart of the Villain

Nine Years Old

“Mother!” Marlena’s tiny fists slammed against the door, over and over and over again until they were sore. “Father?” Her voice quieted.

Marlena swallowed hard, panting from the panic seizing control of her body. She hadn’t kept track of how long she’d spent screaming. Spinning on her heels, Marlena let her tear-swollen eyes wander over the small room.

There was nothing but her reflection in the mismatched mirrors covering nearly every inch of wall space. The rest of the room was barren. Not a chair, a bed, blankets. Nothing.

It was just Marlena and the mirrors.

“You must learn to perfect your craft, Marlena, and this is the way my mother taught me. It’s the way I’ll teach you.” Her mother’s voice rang in her ears as she stared into her vacant eyes in the tallest mirror.

She’d been working so hard. So hard.

Marlena would have worked harder if they’d asked her to. She would’ve done anything not to be locked in this room where all she saw was herself and her flaws.

Marlena, work on your posture.

Marlena, work on your power.

Marlena, work on your presence.

Marlena, you must be better.

Marlena, if you’re not strong enough, you’ll be nothing.

Marlena. Marlena. Marlena.

A sob escaped her already pursed lips. “Vega!” The release of her little sister’s name racked through her body. If her parents wouldn’t help her, she knew her sister would!

“Vega!”

Her cries for her sister weren’t panicked; they were full of sorrow. Marlena wanted the comfort of the only true friend she had, the sister she would do anything for.

“Vega, please! I’m down here!” She jumped as hard as she could, trying to rattle the mirrors. They stayed frozen against the wall, locked in place, and she finally noticed the reverberation of her voice bouncing around the room with her.

A sound shield. Her parents had the closet-sized room safeguarded from any sound entering or exiting.

Marlena was truly locked away where no one could find her. She fell to the floor and started sobbing again.

How many more tears do I have left in my body? she wondered to herself.

Hours passed, maybe days—Marlena was nine, and she couldn’t tell the passing of time well—before the sound of a door opening caught her attention. She flung herself up from the floor, and before she could see who was on the other side, it closed again. A small cup of water sat in front of the door.

Marlena scrambled to reach for the water and chugged it down in a few fervent swallows. Her thirst was hardly sated, but it was enough to rid Marlena of the drought in her mouth.

A small part of her wanted to start screaming again, to see if maybe the door opening had weakened the sound shield, but when Marlena opened her mouth to test its strength, nothing but a peep came out.

She tried again, but still, nothing but a quivering breath exited.

Even the sob that shook her body had no noise. Marlena fell to her knees, and the cup skidded across the cold, hard floor until it stopped in the corner.

Sleep came and went, but it was the only constant Marlena had. No food, barely any water, and if she needed to relieve herself, the corner with the cup became the place to do so.

Marlena learned time had no meaning when you were locked up without a way to tell how long had passed.

Eventually, Marlena realized the only way she was going to get out of this room and return to her normal life was by doing what her mother said—perfecting her craft.

Marlena took a long, heavy breath and released it through her nose.