Your father pushed you down to your feet, his heartless chuckle blaring through your ears like a the melodic tune of a church bell.
Wait, that is a church bell-
Your father kicks you back down to your feet before you could remember what you were thinking.
You squeezed your eyes shut and held back a whimper.
He scoffed and rolled his eyes as if you were some unamusing toy that stuttered before him, rather than his own daughter. His own flesh and blood.
"D-dad..." you grumbled, pushing yourself off the floor, your stomach aching with pain.
"Down," he said bitterly, kicking you back onto the ground and hitting your torso.
You squeaked out in pain.
He rolled his eyes and straightened his tie. "I'm going to go out there. And by the time you come out to meet everyone, you'll be cleaned up and disciplined," he said sternly, raising your blood-stained chin to his face.
You pushed yourself up and hobbled back to your vanity chair. "F-fine..." you groaned.
He narrowed his eyes at you.
"I mean- yes, sir," you said, straightening your posture.
He gave an approving nod and turned on his heel, walking out to meet the guests.
You waited until the clicks from his shoe faded out into the empty corridors. You turned to the mirror, taking a big breath before letting all your tears out.
You silently wept into your hands, careful not to make too much noise.
Your tears streamed down your cheeks and nose, nearly turning your makeup into a messy nightmare.
After a solid ten minutes or so, you wiped your face with a handkerchief and cleared your throat.
Glancing up at your reflection, you groan to see your eyes are all red and puffy, your makeup smeared, making you look like a melted monster. "Yvette!" you call out.
A tall, fair skinned woman with light blonde hair comes scurrying out in a maid outfit. "Yes, dear?" she inquires in an English accent.
You offer a small smile to her. "Can you help fix up my makeup?" you ask her. "Please?"
She smiles back at you and nods, turning around to grab a wooden chest stored at the top of a shelf.
She pops it open on her lap, scooping up every product she could get her hands on.
Yvette applied a generous amount of powder onto your face, helping you cover up the puffiness as she hummed a cheerful tune.
You internally scoffed at her peppy nature. As if there was anything anyone could be happy about today.
If the world revolved around you, everyone in this palace would be moping just the same.
After a while, she leans back to admire her work. "You're all done," she says.
"Thanks, Yvie."
She playfully rolls her eyes. "I told you not to call me that when I'm working..." she mutters to you.
You chuckle and watch her store all the compacts and brushes back into the wooden chest. Your eyes catch a flash of silver light from the box, and you furrow your eyebrows. You open your mouth to ask her what it was, but before you could, Yvette closes the box shut and returns it to you the high shelf.
She turns back to you and smiles. "Ready now?"
You let out an empty chuckle. "Yvie, I was never ready. And I never will be..."
Yvette offers a sad smile. "Perhaps it could be the start of something new?" she suggests, closing the door behind her.
You sat there on the edge of your chair, sinking in her words.
She could be right...you thought.
You smiled to yourself, now getting an idea.
Standing up from your vanity stool, you walked over to the wooden chest Yvette had stored the makeup in.
You stood on your tip-toed and inched the box into your hands.
Popping it open, you smiled to see upon what you saw.
This could be the key to a brighter future. Well, a bloodier one. For some.
"I'll make it a new beginning," you uttered to yourself with a smirk, gingerly taking out a sharp, silver knife from the chest.
✶✶✶
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A/N: Hmmm another flashback?? Any of you guys got some leading theories as to what is happening? I'd love to hear them!
Sorry for the brief chapter—flashbacks are usually shorter than the main storyline.
