Life as a Villain

I wasn't always like this. I was different. I still have some similarities. No one likes me and I'm still beautiful. Now I am selfish, proud, arrogant and rude.  

Sometimes I forget my past. I forget who I am...or who I was. I wasn't like the other girls at school though. They would come to school in beautiful dresses, in pinks and purples, blues and greens, yellows and reds. Lace and velvet, silk petticoats and ruffles at their necks. I wore ugly brown dresses, informal and plain. The girls would walk past me and stick their noses in the air, covering their mouths to stifle their laughs.

They lived in mansions with balconies and gardens and fountains and servants. I lived in a small cottage on a farm with a stable. We had cows, lamb, sheep, a dog and four beautiful horses. My hands would be red raw from helping my parents around the house. It was small, but pretty and cosy. It was a place to call home. I was happy in it, but I wanted a bit more. I wanted to be like the other girls.

I only had one friend and he was our stable boy, Henri. He was my age, and he worked for my father. He earned a meal and a couple pennies a day. His mother was sick at home, his little brother and sister both had the measles, and his father had passed away five years ago. He was the man of the house, and he had to grow up from a young age so he could bring food and money to his home.

We used to spend the school holidays and weekends riding our horses. His horse was black as coal, and he named it Knight. I had a beautiful white mare, her name was Snow. We rode in the woods, away from the town where people would crowd around. Sometimes we would race, even though his horse was much stronger than mine. I didn't care about losing; I loved the feeling of the wind crashing against my face.

My father would tease me. We would all be eating and he would be asking me questions about Henri, such as what we talk about and what we do. But the worst thing was when Henri would eat with us, and he would be dropping hints about Henri getting a home ready for us. Henri would go bright red and I would hide my face in humiliation. My mother would laugh it off by saying that we are too young to be thinking and talking about such nonsense.

Little did my parents know, we were secretly falling for each other.

As we grew into our adolescent years, we still had feelings for each other, but we were too shy to admit it.

Henri didn't want to tell me he loved me because he thought that he would have too much responsibility for a young man to hold. Sadly, his little brother and sister had passed from the measles, and his mother was getting worse. He was working from a young age so he could buy the medicine needed to cure his brother and sister, but the morning before he was to go buy it, it was too late.

He only had his mother left, but he still needed two years of pay to buy the medicine for her. He knew she wouldn't last two more years. Even though he would reassure her that she would live until her 90's, he was trying to believe it himself. But deep down, he knew that she would die if he didn't earn more money.

So he also started working for the tailor in town. Henri was very talented at drawing and so he helped Sir Tailor design new clothing for women, men and children.

He said that just working for my father would have given him two years to buy the medicine, but he was determined to buy the medicine by the end of the year. I prayed that he was right; his mother turned a sad grey and her eyes had changed from an ocean blue to a milky blue.

We stopped going to school. He worked for the tailor and I became a seamstress.  It was tiring work, but it was something to occupy my mind and train of thoughts.

Sir Tailor passed away and Henri became head of the tailor shop. He was always busy designing and measuring while I was sewing and sewing and sewing.