Another point in Time...

The Box

Amity watched as her parents' faces shifted from ones of seemingly concern to nothing but annoyance and unforgiving glares. Her father's fingers interlocked in the top part of her hair. The half ponytail she always wore just gave the man more traction and with a rather hard tug she was pulled from her seat at the table. She'd barely begun to eat her food, her stomach begging for more nutrients. She'd been living off water, adrenaline and scraps for a while and since she had thought she'd be getting to eat tonight, her body prepared for the feast she'd never receive and punished her like everyone else around her when disappointed. Her father went down the stairs first, pulling her down with ease even with her pulling at his hand trying to get free. Amity's cries and pleads to be let go weren't heard at all. Quite literally the man zoned her out completely and did as his beautiful wife commanded. She was following them down after all. She wouldn't handle amity, but she did touch a few stones on the back wall of the basement, opening a hidden cell behind it. There were no windows or light or anything. The air was cold and dry down there, some chains were resting in a corner, connected to the wall probably used for some sort of torture for trespassers. Who knew? Amity didn't. She was never made aware of this room or any others like it in the mansion. Her eyes were petrified with fear as she looked into the almost black abyss. Her pleads only became more desperate as she was pulled closer. Her father had no mercy, throwing her through the cell door and onto the ground. Once in there Odalia made the mistake of using magic to turn on the torches around the room. Amity was relieved to be out of the dark and looked at her parents, scrambling to her feet and going back to the now closed and locked cell door. She begged to be let free, promising anything and everything to just be let free again. She feared the dark and she feared being alone. This room was her worst nightmare and it seemed that everyone in her life knew it. Both her parents and her fiancé had one with her name on it. Against popular belief, the blight had no powers well, she did. They had just been dulled down to nothing. All the abuse over the years, not catching a break ever, it all crippled her into a witch that couldn't even summon a child's abomination and when she was scared like this, she couldn't start a fire. Her hands would spark like an old lighter but never lit. She spent most days with her arranged husband but on her 'vacation' days she was sent back to the blight manor for 'fine tuning.' Torture wasn't a rare thing in her life, her husband expected perfection that not even he could achieve and everything as small as a piece of hair on her coat could end in blood shed. Though it seemed his favorite was a small box/room in the back of their personal closet. The inside was big enough for a single person to stand and if amity laid in a fetal position she could lay down. The door to it required her to crawl into or be shoved into it and could be easily hidden by an illusion, box or a temporary wall. The walls on the inside of it were scratched down from the poor witches' fingernails, she'd scratch to the bone while screaming at the top of her lungs only for it to be in vain. She'd spend days there, weeks besides when he'd pull her out for his own needs but would be forced to return back to the room right after. Sometimes she was lucky and could seduce her way into getting to sleep in the bed for a night. It was by no means peaceful, but it was better than that dreaded box. Her eyes had dulled over the years into just blank balls in her head. Her husband took pleasure in seeing her so down and broken. He isolated her from friends and anyone that could help, just leaving her with the two of them. Her parents scoffed at her desperate and terrified begs. She sounded like if they left her, she'd die right there. The pleads came from deep in her and still, they didn't care. Odalia walked away without a problem, hoping this would fix their disappointment of a daughter. If they even considered her that. They didn't, to them she was just a loose end, the problem that would bring down the family name if they didn't prevent her from doing so. So, they married her off to a very wealthy and high-status man. She had no say in it at all and the argument she started then, did nothing. Amity watched as the torches around her slowly died off one by one. Her pleads only got more desperate as the stone wall started to move to close again, closing off all light. The youngest blight begged before finally letting out a frustration filled scream, hitting her hands on the stone wall that was protected by the cell door. Tears were pouring down her face as she was left alone in the dark, she hated so much. She didn't know how long she'd be left down there but at least the room was bigger than the one at home. She tried to let her eyes adjust as she sniffled and looked around, but it was pure black. She couldn't even see her hand in front of face. Amity let out a few blood curdling screams, listening to them taunt her, echoing in the room. No one listened to her words or body language. No one ever listened! She tried her very best in everything. She always had to. Still, it was never enough. Even when she'd beat the twins in something, it wasn't enough. She'd never win, and it was frustrating. The twins were never punished, and they always were better no matter what. Her parents did a good job at keeping amity away from the twins, not wanting them associating with a witch like her. She was a disgrace to all and didn't deserve the surname of blight nor did she deserve loving siblings or parents. The twins loved their sister and wouldn't ever think of their parents being so cruel to her. They did a good job at keeping them from reaching out to amity and the young blight had no way to connect them. Her scroll was controlled by her fiancé and if someone nice did reach out, he would send back a horrible message that would make anyone hate her. Screaming into the darkness was her best way of getting emotions out at this point and even then, no one cared. Her husband might have heard it, but he took pleasure from it so why stop? He liked treating her like an object, something that could be hidden away so easily. Put away in a box and just enjoy the reactions he got from the girl that just wanted any form of affection. A 'good job'. A hug, a high five, just a simple touch that wasn't her husband using her for his own sexual needs. She curled up in a corner once she was done and just cried and whimpered herself to sleep. Her heart ached nonstop from the pain and just tried to comfort herself. Telling herself that she did her best and she did well, but it was hard when you're told over and over and over, daily that you're useless and a disappointment. The sleep deprivation, the lack of food, the energy it took to perform the 'wifely duties', the emotional drainage from it all. All of it and more left her, well useless. She couldn't fight, she didn't have magic or anywhere to go. She spent 5 days in the cellar and food was put in only when she was asleep. Around day 3 she realized this and slept by the door so she could see the light and eat whatever they gave her. It might have been things you'd give to a dog or worse, but she needed anything she could get. The darkness made it impossible to really know what it was. She was honestly just happy to receive anything. At home she was forced to sit at a full table but was allowed nothing. She was there to sit pretty and make small talk. A small meal was allowed every three days but if amity ate too fast or used incorrect manners, she was forced to puke it all back up and she could try again the next meal day. Amity had invented a small trick that helped sometimes, chocolate covered fruits were liked by her husband so when she was performing her duties, she'd suggest those to help set the mood. It was small but again, anything helped. Even with her being so small, she was constantly put down for being so. Her parents found her frail frame repulsive and so did most people, but she couldn't control that. Her husband put all the blame on her, telling those who asked that she had an eating disorder and how he was the saint that tried to get her to eat more. This normally made them just look at her with disappointing eyes. Her parents did the same. She considered these 'vacation' days because she didn't have to deal with her husband. No wifely duties, no events. She would be given food throughout the day and wasn't made to hide anything. Her parents wanted her to when she would be hurt by them, but she couldn't. Yes, she was tortured but it was the tiniest bit better than at home.

(Picture Credit goes to Swiss.sides on Instagram)