The Moonlight Lilac (UNDER MAJOR EDITING)

67 - The One With HER Point Of View

Author's note: This version of the story is UNEDITED. Apologies for the incorrect grammar, spelling, and other writing flaws. I will fix this at a later time.

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Chapter 67 - The One With HER Point Of View

-Cythera's Point Of View-

Skylar...

Her name sounds like something out of a computer game. Something you'd only hear from the mouth of a gamer. Something from a lore of a popular RPG, but to me, that name is everything. It's everything that I couldn't even bring myself speak it aloud.

Even though her name rolls off so well in my tongue, I feel like I don't have even the littlest right to say it.

My life is a boring cycle of upholding the legacy has been bestowed upon; hardly placed on top of my shoulders. I feel like a robot programmed to keep an empire succeeding, that even if I die, our last name will never be forgotten and that the power it yields will keep on going.

Everything transpired so quickly. I slept as girl who was abused emotionally and physically, and woke up the other day as a woman with soul-breaking responsibilities. It was my birthday when that happened.

Oh, how much I detested every moment of that memory. Every time the recollections of that day pass across my mind, my palms get cold.

That day, another year was added to my life. I was forced to mature in a snap of a finger and I had no choice but close my eyes, tear, opened it, breathe...but accept.

This is my life. I was born to suffer it.

Some folks who are not in my situation would find it hilarious. If I speak my truth about the life that I have, I'll bet people will laugh and call it "OA", a term I constantly hear from individuals who lead more normal lives.

Mine's a bit of a movie, but it isn't. It's my reality.

I've consequently made the decision to keep my tale to myself rather than sharing it to others. Instead of allowing people to enter my life and give them a chance to know me, I've decided to push everyone away. Because I'm afraid...

If my life is a book, the cover will be eye-catching. The pages will be vintage and notable, but the contents will be tedious. A lot of people will be intrigued. They'll browse the parts until hackneyed, but I'm scared that no one will really take time to know the pages by heart. So I closed the book of my life and kept it to myself.

But then I heard you...

I shall never forget the first time your existence became known on my guarded territory. You came as different shades of colors spilled on a drawing printed in white and black.