Seven Deadly Sons

Insert 2: She's a Witch! Burn her!

The weather had got much worse as winter drew near, and with it, Melanie gradually lost all hope of the mysterious couple coming back to rescue her. For many days she had dreamed her parents were not dead and that they would come back one day to save her, Father would grab her by the elbows and spin her around as he would when she was a child in their kitchen gardens during spring. Melanie did not feel like a child anymore, though many of the staff here still called her one.

They called her other things too. Much scarier, treacherous words.

Knowing now what a witch was, and the punishment for being found as one, she did everything in her power to make herself normal. The other children had given her the idea of changing her eye colour, and Melanie had religiously put any and every tonic she could find in her eyeballs, though honestly, this method had not worked thus far and oftentimes made the situation much worse — her eyes fully bloodshot. She'd walk downstairs with white eyes, and once the oil had soaked in they would be bloody. This paired with the black and blue of her sockets - a result of sleepless nights - and her ashen skin had made her a fearsome and ghostly sight to her peers.

The matron had stopped bringing her food after the couple had left that day, weeks ago. Perhaps it was days? Melanie didn't know the time anymore, she was no longer permitted see the sun. In actual fact, Melanie was not allowed to see or do anything at all.

The robin sometimes sang to her, but when it could not see her it quickly departed, too.

Someone was coming up the ladder now, probably to check if her eyes had gone back to the purple they were before. They always seemed disappointed when the colour never returned, permanently stained black from Melanie's meddling, but she was glad of it. It was one less thing that made her different, that set her aside from the pack.

If she was right, at some point soon it would be her birthday. Was she twelve or eleven turnings? Again, she could not be sure. Nothing was certain.

The visiter, matron, did not knock when she came in, but stood tall and told her someone was here to take her away. She did not say this like it was a good thing, but it must have been. Anywhere was better than this room, better than her limp arms, swinging like the arms of a clocks gone loose. It could not possibly be worse.

Matron made her walk down the ladder before her again, using her skull for balance. The tips of her fingers tingled as her blood rushed at the sudden exertion and Melanie thought it felt quite bad, her head felt foggy and her eyes would not keep the hallway straight. the curtains were spinning so fast she had to sit down, but matron would never wait for her.

Grabbing Melanie by the forearm, she practically dragged her through the blur and to the front door. The couple who had expressed interest in her was there with another man, before the huge block of wood that was the front door. They stood in an odd triangular formation to leave room for the metal box on the floor, some kind of fox trap - she had seen something similar back on the estate in Surrey, the farmers had used a smaller version for vermin.

Five circular holes were shot into the flat surface facing Melanie, and when they opened the door - half of her own height - she could see a collar inside.

Melanie was characteristically not surprised when they said it was for her. Wasn't it obvious her new family saw her more as vermin than child? She still got on her knees and crawled inside, still complied when they told her, "Sit still, child," and wrapped the collar around her neck, gently, like they were bestowing her with a fine necklace.

Remembering how her mother had sat up straight like an iron bust, how it had made the amethyst gems shine on her chest, Melanie did the same. This was not a collar, this was something only an heriess should wear. When they closed the door back into place, however, and all she could see was pin-holed around those circles... Melanie was ashamed to say she did panic a lot. Her mother would most certainly not have panicked - Melanie tried to remember the stories mother told when she was much more of a child; how her mother was born in rubble and made from the smell of metal and war around her.

By contrast, Melanie was born on a soft bed. With fire, and some cosy blankets. She supposed that's why she panicked now.

It felt like it took forever, but eventually, the three people holding her cage waltzed her all the way into town - rolling her down the hills on the little wheels - onto the quayside and into the King of Prussia's cellars.