warning: heavy violence/ grotesque imagery
🌹
she was ugly.
it didn't take looking in a mirror for her to know; she had never had access to any in her lifetime anyways.
but she could feel it.
from a young age, her memories were filled only with pain and misery. beatings that would last for hours and cruel living conditions not even fit for the lowest insects that scuttled across the floor sometimes.
her parents had given her up without hesitation when she was conceived, for she was a bad omen.
born in the year of the white horse and with the birth mark of a teardrop in the depression of her ankle, a sign of the god of death.
the villagers blamed all their problems on her, and so she took the blunt of their anger.
if the crops failed, it was her fault. if the wells went dry that year, or if there were forest fires it was because of her.
she was forced into what could only be described as slavery, under an inhumane master who took pleasure in disfiguring her.
her oddly bent fingers and ragged nails struggled to grasp the coarse wood handle of the stiff brush as she scrubbed the wooden floors with stunted movements. it was arduous and difficult considering her impairments- she couldn't walk, for a few of her toes were subject to frostbite in the freezing basement she was kept locked up in, and her legs had been broken and had never really healed right. her hips were prominent and nearly completely visible under pale, translucent skin that was stretched painfully thin over her bones. her spine was hunched and made it hard to even hold her head up, with thin, dirty hair that came out in clumps whenever her master or someone else grasped it hard enough.
her face, well.
she had never seen it but from the way her master sneered at her she knew it couldn't be much prettier than the rest of her.
she wasn't even human. less than an animal.
so why didn't she just die?
she could just end it and be done with this horrible life, go into whatever afterlife was waiting for her.
but something always held her back.
if she had gone through so much, things that others wouldn't survive, what made her think she could kill herself?
and it wasn't as if she was given much choice either as her master came tramping back in the room, footsteps heavy and ominous and threatening.
without thinking she let out a whimper of fear after he let out a sigh of frustration.
she heard it before she felt it, a large boot colliding heavily with her weak ribcage.
she rolled with the impact, emitting these inhuman whines and cries, bringing her disfigured arms up to cover her face and try and protect as much as possible.
her chest screamed in pain as he continued to inflict violence onto her, not practicing any restraint.
and yet, after what seemed like hours later, he left her alone bleeding on the ground- himself being surprised her body hadn't collapsed on itself yet.
she sobbed for a little bit, wishing she was anywhere and anyone else. she wished she could kill her master. take the iron poker and bash his head in or choke him to death. something. anything.
she wished to be something more.
a bird, maybe. or a small frog. something where she could see the sun everyday and not be constrained to anyone.
