Who I am

Prolougish

I was unwanted. A waste of space, A nuisance, I would never amount to anything. That's what they said. They always said that. And now their burning sentences have made an unwelcome home in my mind. Years ago I would cry and become depressed, but I have changed. I am not the soft centered girl I used to be. Now I am stone. Now I refuse to let them hurt me. Now I refuse to let anyone hurt me...

16 years ago my mother the queen and my father the king gave birth to a child, me. Moments later when my sex was announced to my parents, my mother wanted to disown me. However my father decided that I could be of some use to them and promptly decided to make me a servant. So I was given to a nice old servant lady and was brought up by her for the first 2 years of my life. Then I was given chores, and I was not so slowly integrated into the servant system. Therefore, I have been a servant since the youthful age of 2 years. The best part? Well because my parents never disowned me, I do not get paid. Oh and there is the fact that I do not technically exist. This again is due to my parents. The people who were supposed to love me. Sometimes when I was young and naïve I would wonder what I did to earn this neglection from my parents. Once when I was 5, after being submitted to a rather hard beating I had asked them why. I wish I hadn't. To this day I remember how my mother had looked at me like I was prey and very soothingly told me to come over so she could tell me why. Naïve little me, was overjoyed and ran over to my mother excited to have her being nice for a change. She then with a smile on her face, bent down to my tiny ear and whispered

" Because you are a failure, a disgrace, a nuisance. Don't you ever forget it."

Then with a smile still plastered on her face she took out a knife and I went rigid. Understanding that the look on her face meant that something bad was going to happen. I was in something akin to shock from her words. They had cut deep in my heart and I was numb. My 5 year old mind still not quite wanting to understand. My mother ran a finger across the blade and held it in the light.

"Oh child, I'm sorry that must have hurt your feelings... Here let mommy give you a present that will make sure you remember that I looove you.."

She stretched out the words I love you and was so sarcastic in her manner of speaking that even as young and uneducated as I was I understood the sarcasm. Motioning for the guards to hold me still she ripped away the fabric from my chest right about where my heart was and started drawing a heart with the knife into my skin. The pain was unbearable and I soon was crying out in pain. My mother laughed and smirked joyfully at my screams of pain. As I yelped she would make the cut deeper and deeper. Soon I passed out from the pain, only to reawaken again when my mother slapped me hard. In pain I looked down to see a heart shaped bloody wound on my chest. I felt faint again from both pain, exhaustion, and the sight of my own blood. But the queen was not done yet. She returned a minute later with blow torch. Being a servant I knew that the torch was used to seal open wounds and would hurt intensely. Whimpering in fear I struggled, desperately trying to free myself, but to no avail. My mother turned the torch on and started to seal my wound. Saying that she was only trying to help. This I knew was a lie. 8 years later and I still wear the scar. Both emotionally and physically. There has been worse beating since then, however none have hurt me as bad as my mothers words did...

On my 10th birthday, they moved my room to the top tower and forbade me to go out of my room except when they came and opened it. Not that I could leave anyhow. The opening was really a cracked stone in the wall. My mother had sneered and told me that they had a very special surprise for me. My father had jeered at me and the guards remained silent. My room was tiny and was an old library. They gave me nothing at all. No bed, no chest, no way to get food other than a planter with a few seeds and no water. I hated that room. There was no light and well I couldn't get out, others could get in. Rats would often scurry onto my feet and the insects were unbearable. I was half dead when a friendly guard had found the broken stone that marked my room, in hoping to escape the unbearable heat of the summer. He had noticed me laying feverishly in a heap and had took it upon himself to see me get better. When I saw him I had begun to weep and begged him to not tell my parents for fear that they would do something terrible. Troubled but respecting my wishes the guard had begun to help me covertly. 6 years later and I still am scared that my parents will catch on. One day they did. And this is where our story begins...

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Hello! If anyone is possibly reading this THANK-YOU! Please comment! I am really excited for this, as I actually came up with this idea while playing on minecraft. Yep, that's right I am Nerdy/Geeky. I built a whole huge kingdom and everything! Sooo excited! Again Thank-You