THE VILLAINESS

ONE

MY EYES flickered open which made me instinctively force them shut. Yet unfortunately, I was left with no choice but to adjust my irises to the painful light rays that caressed me. Surely, I am dreaming I thought. I found myself back in my old chambers, my hard bed remained as still as I was. And familiar large ivory pillars adorned in thick tapestries with my families crest surrounded me. The only sound in the room was my weighted breathing.

I had died, for certain I had died. I kept repeating to myself as I clutched my body tightly. The execution grounds, the guillotine, it was all too real.

Abruptly, a choked sob erupted from someplace within the chamber and I didn't dare locate it. ''Your Highness, m'lady,'' the voice continued, '' your face—your face was so grave, and your skin felt like hoarfrost.''

I jolted up at an instant after identifying the voice belonged to Mali, my former maid and companion. Perhaps the gods were toying with me for Mali had been dead years. This is not true, I tried to convince myself as the thoughts in my head began to swirl. Maybe this was the afterlife?  The young maidens light touches encouraged me to open my eyes completely and with great hesitance, I had seen it were no doubt Mali in the flesh. Cautiously, my callous fingers cupped her cheeks; shoving away the tears that slipped out of her honey jar irises. It had been a long time since I felt another's touch.

Still, in my joy and shock at seeing her, I could not help but notice how youthful Mali looked. As if the hardships of life had not yet feasted away at her innocence like a disease. Towards her death, I could never forget how her eyes carried the burden of anguish everywhere she went. Even when she knew our final moments were approaching; she would feign a smile but her eyes never lied.

''Fetch me a mirror.'' I quietly whimpered in my disorientated state, intrigued to see my own visage. But my interest was met with a frightful feeling floating down to the pits of my stomach; upon seeing a younger version of myself staring back at me. How could this be? I looked nobut eight and ten years of age, my eyes appeared brimful of life similarly to Mali's. The only peculiar thing I noted was a bandage draped firmly around my neck.

The words ''What might the date be?'' fled from my lips before I had time to think them.

Puzzled, Mali replied ''Why, it's the great year 1614," and she paused with a pensive look, "I mean, well—forgive me my lady but perhaps you should continue resting."

My head rocked backwards, and I snickered after realisation struck me. My actions left a confused expression on Malis's face. Six years from now I would be dead, my monotone cackle filled the room. Perhaps death had given me a second chance or maybe the gods took pity on this poor mortal. 

Slowly, I brought my fingertips to my chest the sensation of feeling was new. How could I forget how they sliced off my limbs? Traitor, witch, undeserving of anatomy they said. Aggressively, I forced the memory out of my mind, regurgitating it from my system. Why should I continue to punish myself with reminiscences from my past life? As my fingers dawdled across the ruffles of my nightgown there was a silence in my chest. I was breathing, yes, but I quickly realised my heart was not beating.