Voice, a familiar sound

When I was little, my nickname was Helen. Why?

Because everyone I knew believed that one day, just like that fabled woman of Troy, I would turn the head of every captain on every ship.

My real name is Fae. My last name doesn't matter.

I was born beautiful.

At least, beautiful to others.

I had glowing, creamy skin that matched perfectly with my red lips and rosy cheeks. They harmonized with my brown hair, light freckles, and amber eyes.

"Beautiful."

"Pretty."

"Gorgeous."

But for reasons I can't fathom, one person, who I didn't even know, hated me.

I should've never walked down that dark alley.

When that cloaked figure with a knife in his left hand appeared out of nowhere, I could see the hate in his eyes.

He held me captive while he cut each side of my face with a single, deadly stroke.

Then, he left me to bleed.

I survived that day, but I didn't get away without two identical scars on each side of my face, an evil, twisted contour of my high cheekbones. I was thirteen years old.

My parents hid me. They assured me it wasn't my fault.

But gradually, at home and when others were around, they acted like I'd never even existed. It was as if they didn't know how to deal with a defiled, marred daughter.

I had never felt so worthless, so sick of myself and my parents, that I ran away when I was fifteen.

They didn't find me for two weeks.

And finally, when they did catch me, they had to almost drag me back while I screamed and struggled, crying my heart out, begging to be treated like a normal girl.

They never listened. And there weren't many people in the middle of rural America who could've.

No phone, no hotlines to call, or people to talk to.

But there was one.

We lived in a small, two story house, with a small single room upstairs. That room was mine.

Most of the time I'd fall asleep crying, wishing the world was different and that I wasn't treated like a bird in a cage.

Then, one night, when I was crying in bed, I heard a strange young voice on the other side of my bedroom wall.

"It wasn't your fault, Fae. He will only hurt you if you let him."

I stopped and sat up, wondering where the voice could've come from.

It came again.

"You're still beautiful, inside and out, you know. No amount of scars can take that away."

And then the voice left.

It would come back every so often, saying different things, slowly getting rid of the lies I believed about myself.

"You are priceless, Fae. All the gold in the world couldn't even come close to your value."

"You are worth it, Fae. The world wouldn't be the same without you."

"You did nothing to deserve it, Fae. No one deserves to be hurt based on their looks. Don't believe that lie."

I stopped crying at night. I'd lie awake sometimes, waiting for that young, masculine, gentle and reassuring voice to speak. Sometimes I'd fall asleep waiting, having no troubled dreams or scary nightmares.