The Arwain Chronicles Book I

Chapter Four.

The Arwain Chronicles: A Broken Mind...

She sat silently at the bar lost in thought. She by all indications of appearance, looked no older than eighteen years of age. The index finger to her right hand moved idly round the rim of the glass with her drink.

Once again she found herself drowning in the feeling of an empty existence. Trapped in the feeling that she wasn't really living just simply existing. The irony of this feeling wasn't lost on her, considering she had been dead for the past six thousand years.

Her head turned upwards as her eyes focused on her reflection in one of the bottles behind the bar. She studied the young girl looking back at her. Long thick curly locks of golden blonde hair that fell gracefully down her shoulders and over her ample bust. Like curtains that were pulled back to reveal the bottomless chasm that was her cleavage.

A pair of startlingly Deep ocean blue eyes that were forever keen of all that was around her. A nose that was only a bit longer than she liked but had received more compliments than she actually believed. A pair of naturally pouty rose pink lips that she could at choice, transform into one of the most breathtaking of smiles most had ever seen. She'd however had very little reason to smile for the past two thousand years.

Everything about her, she once again noted for what was probably the thousandth time, hid the monster that lurked beneath the beautifully calm surface, but was never too far from it.

Her mind once again began crawling back down the dark murky hole that was the memory of her past. Reviewing all the events in her life that had brought her to the present she now found herself in. Her teeth gritted hard in self-disgust, no matter how many times she'd promised herself she wouldn't come back to this part of her mind, she always found herself back here.

Her mother had died from a complicated child birth as she brought forth her younger sister. Her father didn't last long after that as he tried to drown his sorrows with every alcoholic drink he could find. Less than a month later he poisoned himself as the pain of existence finally became too unbearable. The death of her father left both she and her younger sister in the care of their swine of an uncle. He couldn't have cared any less for them if his life had depended on it. To this day, she still wondered whether they would have been better off living in the streets.

Being the only one who actually cared for the life of her younger sister, she'd been forced to find a mother who was nursing at the time and beg her to feed her sister too. She would then work herself to the bone to pay her for this service, short of which, her sister would starve to death. All the while their tyrant of an uncle expected all chores in the house done without fail. To him, they should have been kissing the very ground he walked upon for letting them share a roof with him.

She couldn't, neither had she ever bothered to try to count how many sleepless nights she had spent trying to keep both she and her sister from starving to death. To her each and every last one of them had been worth it if only she got to look down at the smiling face of her younger sister as she laughed at the faces she made at her.

Life had been pretty much the same for years to come, that is, until she turned fourteen and hit puberty. Then, a miserable life turned to hell. She'd been a late bloomer, not that she had even noticed or cared about this. Despite what men, most especially her uncle, believed about women at the time, she did have a sharp mind. It did not take her long to notice that the way men looked at her had changed, it made her skin crawl.

Despite the fact that she'd had no one to explain to her what was going on, the subject being taboo to be spoken openly at the time. It didn't take her long to figure out what was happening to her. She'd have to have been dumber than a rock not to figure it out after cleaning the town's brothels more times than she could count.