4 03
"Ceasaria was brought into the Valentine house for her magical ability. " — The Lovely Villainess, Chapter Two.
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They hadn't been lying. Caesaria could use magic quite easily. It was almost laughable as I looked at the fire that tickled my entire hand. I experimented with the flame and found that the second it caught into something else, it would harm me. Yet, when it was still being conjured, I was unhurt by it.
No one had come for me in a couple of weeks. The bread had started to dwindle and my head started to hurt. Slowly, my back started to heal. I was worried that it would get infected but it didn't seem to be so.
Was this all because of the novel?
I didn't know but I couldn't help but scowl. What was the use of being the original heroine? No one cared for her. The Lovely Villainess didn't need a heroine; no they wanted a redemption arc.
When was my birthday? I was nine and I still didn't know. I would have liked to light a candle for myself even if it was just a piece of small timbre that I picked up from the wooden floorboards. It would be a makeshift candle but at least, I could celebrate it. Caesaria must have been such a lonely girl. I couldn't help but empathize with her; even if I was her. The line continued to get blurrier.
Yet, I still didn't know.
Apparently, I had been too lucky for the door flew open and my mother's hand flew to my face. Smacking me hard, my body shuddered from the shock. Her hand smacked me again, blood leaking from my nose as I tried to curl up. The smaller I became the harder it was to hit me. Her heeled shoe dug deep inside of my shoulder, grinding against the open wound.
I whimpered in pain.
"You! You're the reason!" She shrieked, "They all look down on me!" She yelled.
No one had asked for me to be born.
I couldn't help but feel bitter for Ceasaria's stead. It was unfair. I was bitter. The taste lingered on my tongue as the maids quickly rushed in, "Madam! You're going to get sick!" One of the maids urged as she heaved. Her green hair stuck to her forehead from sweat. My body begged for some solace.
"You insufferable thing!" She shrieked once more, slamming my head back into the ground. Silence. It had become horribly comforting and all the more beautiful. Perhaps, it was better than feeling a mother's touch.
Though, in some twisted way, I couldn't help but like it. At least, I had some human contact. My eyes widened at the insane idea. What was I saying? What was I thinking? Was I alright?
That didn't sound like me. Then again, who was I?
It was an identity crisis that I was experiencing. I didn't realize it until it was too late.
There was no Caesaria for I was Caesaria.
That was how my days continued.
My body slowly healing and my mind becoming groggier and groggier. Was I getting sick? My hand touched my forehead as I glanced at myself in the small piece of reflective glass. The shattered pieces were dangerous but I had kept them around to toy with to try and fill up the boredom of my listless days.
Finally, I glanced at my appearance. My cheeks were almost as pink as my hair. I was definitely sick. The cold didn't help as I shivered.
The sun was setting as I looked at my hand. My green eyes looked at the flame that erupted. "Hey," I mumbled to myself. My voice felt loud in my ears. How many days had it been since I had first discovered I had gotten sick, "What if I just coat my body in flames?" I asked myself. "Then, I can burn this house to the ground."
I wasn't thinking properly. I knew I wasn't. My entire body ached and all I wanted was to feel warm. I wanted to feel some type of heat.
Stumbling forward, I pressed my hand against the door. "Fuck it," I mumbled to myself. Lethargic, I wasn't thinking straight. I was thirsty, hungry, and desperate. All I wanted was to leave this horrendous place, even if it meant death.
The door slowly sizzled, before catching on fire. The door burned in a matter of minutes, my hands skimmed the hallways. The soft plush carpets touched my feet. It was a sensation I had never felt before. The wallpaper quickly caught aflame. The slow spidering grew as I watched the flames engulf the hallway quickly.
Desperate as if it was even more starving than I was, the flames traveled through the house. Eating through the wooden frames as I walked, trudging lethargically through the hallways that I had never seen before. Maids ran around, screaming, as I heard people desperately say to grab water.
If I lived, was I going to be seen as a criminal?
Anywhere was better than here. I would rather rot in jail.
My whole body felt hot as if it was enveloped in heat. My toes touched the soft fabric of the velvet as I walked, and trudged, forcing me to move my body closer and closer to the outside. The frigid cold never felt more comforting. I wanted to be outside, begging, pleading—I felt desperate.
"Woah," I mumbled as I looked at the burning mansion. I had done that.
"Oh," a voice crooned as I turned around, "Who is this?"
