1 1

My detention cell's window had been illuminated by the moonlight. My platinum-white hair mirrored the moonlight. Tears roll down my cheeks as I recall my mother telling me to live a decent life. I stood there withdrawn, staring at my sore feet. The blood seeping through the flesh of the feet. I took a seat on the cold floor. The moon was obscured by clouds, and my eyes were lifeless. I trace the tear tracks on my cheeks with my fingertips.

"HEY!", a voice shouted following the sounds of the metal door opening.

As I slowly turn my head, I notice a distorted person staring back at me. My vision is blurry from being tortured every day for however many days I've spent here.

"Here. Drink it," the guard scoffed.

He threw a little bottle on my lap. I stared at it for a moment before cautiously lifting it to my mouth. I leaned back and poured the drink into my mouth. It was unpleasant and painful as it passed down my throat. The guard laughed at me and told me I deserved what happened to me. I couldn't see his face, but I could feel his hatred for me. He shackled my hands and dragged me to my execution stand. I'm not sure when things started going downhill. My life has never been particularly interesting. I spent most of my time in agony. My so-called family caused me pain. I've never stepped outside of the house. I was confined to my room until I was forced to marry a dreadful man. He was discovered to be having an affair with my sister. They swiftly called off my engagement to give him to my so-called sister. I was nothing more than a tool to be used and discarded as needed.

As I was being led to the guillotine, I could hear the audience cheering. It was almost as if a festival was taking place. As we approached the execution stand, the guard hauled me with such force that I collapsed to the ground. I didn't want to convey any emotion to these people, so I kept a neutral expression on my face. The executioner approached me and simply stared at me as if I were a pest and he was the exterminator.

I knelt and pushed my head through the guillotine. As a result of the toxin, my cloudy vision progressed to blindness. I could taste iron in my mouth and feel the blood flow down my cheeks in place of tears. People around me are giving me hateful remarks. They are ecstatic, as though they had been freed from horror.

"Any last words?" The executioner asked.

I looked in the direction of the seats where my supposed family would be.

I uttered with a soft sore throat and hatred that had been building in my heart, "I curse you all, you pigs."

I closed my eyes and waited for the cold blade to touch my neck. The sky wailed as a storm raged.

*SLING*

The blade fell.

***

"That's warm...warm...warm?"

I gasped as I woke up with the sun beaming brightly through my window. Tears streamed down my cheeks uncontrollably. I stared at the palms of my hands, shaking, unable to believe I am still alive. I was given another chance to change myself.

I wiped my tears and stood up to look for a hint as to what day it was. I noticed a newspaper on my desk. I dashed to get the newspaper.

"Let's look at the primary event here. 'A pack of monsters has been detected near the capital'. In my former existence, I was seventeen at the time of this event." While reading the newspaper, I mumbled.

I'd regressed to seventeen, a few months before my eighteenth birthday.

"This means I have about a year and a half until I die," I said as I collapsed to the floor.

Something caught my attention from the corner of my eye as I sat on the floor. It's a reflection. A mirror that appeared to reflect my apparent situation. I stand up and approach my reflection to get a detailed look at myself. I stare at myself with sentimentality, at my worn-out clothes, at my petite and frail form. My wavy hair, dark as the night sky, had been neglected. My mind is filled with images of my mum. She used to color my hair to make me look like one of my so-called siblings. My eyes are as stunning as obsidian. My skin is as smooth as porcelain. I recognize my mother in myself. She died in vain, hoping for someone to help her.

My brother barges into my room as I look away from the mirror. He, like his father, has ebony hair and blue eyes. Despite the fact that we share a mother, he has never treated me as his sister. He has always seen me as a foe. Someone he can berate and bully without consequence. He's not that much older than me. We are only a year apart. He is around average in height among his peers his age.

"You," he says with a cold tone.

"Don't you ever get tired of this?" he questioned.

'What is he even talking about,' I thought.

"It wasn't enough that you ruined the day by waking up, but you pushed Lisette on the ground. You think I wouldn't find out? Huh?" he proclaimed angrily.

He walked towards me, fuming. He raised his hand and punched me in the stomach. I fell to the ground, coughing. I looked up and saw anger in his eyes. He turned around and walked away without saying a word. I lay there, trying to catch my breath.

"Damn, that hurts like a bitch. It will definitely leave a bruise. I have to hurry up and come up with a plan." I complained as I struggled to get up.

"Phew!"I managed to get up and started tending to my wounds. I stroll over to the balcony, feeling the breeze in my hair.