Broken Queen

Chapter 1: Mirrors Can Be Cruel𖤛-𝚅𝚒𝚘𝚕𝚊-𖤛

I wrap my charcoal black veil around my face over and over again. At this point it's been at least 5 years and whenever I take the veil off they always run screaming. Some find this humorous, in fact my maids always try to conceal their laughs as groom after groom pass by running. Now, I don't care anymore. I yell and scream and kick at anyone who is nearby. My soul has become as ugly as I am, and I hate it. I hate it all. If only I had a knife.
I always beg my father to not force me into contining this torture. He will never know of the suffering I go through. How could he? When he was my age, he was a handsome and dashing prince. I should know, he can't stop reminding me of his beauty. You see, although his looks may be dashing, his heart holds no beauty. I see his true colors, his face may hold light, but his heart is filled with pure tar.
"What do you think?" I twirl around in my dress looking down at myself in the mirror, avoiding my top half. There is, and will never be again, a reflection in my mirror, but the voices in my head responded. "Amazing! Lovely! As black as death himself."
As a young girl I broke my mirror into shards. I could no longer stand the unholy sight of my face. I still have a scar from where I shoved a shard of glass so far in my arm I practically broke through my bone. I scoff at the scar. What a mistake. I should've gone for my sister's neck.
My sister. The one human being who could possibly have an even blacker heart than my own father. I remember when she saw me bleeding out from my arm she couldn't stop laughing.
I hate her.
For more than just her cruel heart. But like my father, her looks have no parallel. Unlike me, she can't stop obsessing about the beauty she finds staring back at her in the mirror. I envy her for it. Anywho, enough about my sister. I turn my thoughts back to my dress. It is midnight black and has white flakes that speckle down from my bodice to the floor. I even have a matching veil. As if that's going to hide my impenetrable flaws. Gathering courage, I grab a mirror shard off my bed and look at my reflection in the broken glass. Many layers of fabric cover my face, so I don't have to bear the sight of myself, but it still stings every time. I can't help but break out a painful laugh, my soul resembles that mirror, they're both broken.
"Why do you even try? It's honestly pitiful."
Margret sneers.
I jump backwards and groan, opening my hand, my eyes widened at the bloody mess. The glass sticks out of my palm and is pulsing like fire. Margret, my sister, picks up a glass shard from the ground and twirls it around her fingers as if it were a simple pen.
"Why do you even bother? Your corset is about to burst."
I glare at her. Unconsciously, my eyes drift down to her waist and then to mine.
"Get out."
I say under my breath.
"Sorry? I can't hear you under all of that fabric."
It takes every ounce of my being not to lunge at her throat. I want to take the glass shard that is in my palm and cut her so she looks even worse than I do. I mean, if that's possible. I proceed to make the movement, but then scream at the pain that welcomes me instead.
"Leave me alone Margret. Now."
I yell, both in pain and pure hatred.
" Or what? Will you try to hurt me with those god awful hands?"
I lunge at her but it's too late. She's already out of the room.