𝕸𝖆𝖈𝖆𝖇𝖗𝖊 ➳ 𝙃.𝙋

02

[2]

LITTLE LYRA

Persephone's childhood was not an easy one, and she has never really told anyone about it. The truth was that it hurt and she was scared. Her childhood was a story that she didn't want anyone to read; it was painful and made her the person she is today. She didn't want to tremble with the weight of it any more.

As a child, all she wanted was a strawberry lollipop.

Persephone never knew her father. Her mother told her that her father disappeared before she was born. She did doubt it at first from the pained and longing expression of her mother, but she never went on to question it. She had been a quiet and obedient kid. When the little girl turned five, her mother, her only relative and guardian, Capella Black, died in front of her eyes. Her mother only left her a locked diary. She remembers that day as clear as crystal. She had never felt so alone. She remembered staring at her mother, who had laid on the hospital bed, so pale, so lifeless and so utterly alone. Not one even came to see her off to Heaven. Her mother was dead. The five-year-old girl remembered closing her mother's eyes and telling the nurse, "don't worry, she's just sleeping. She will just sleep for a very long time."

Persephone remembered feeling hopeless, while all her mother left her was a locked diary that Persephone could not open no matter how many times she tried.

Thump.

Thump.

Thump.

Thump.

Silence.

A piece of her heart stomped over, shattered, destroyed forever.

She remembered being tossed into an orphanage. No one cared about her. They were all scared of her because bad things happen to those who hurt her. Brian, the boy that called her a 'freak' became mute magically the next day. Lila, the girl that pushed her onto the floor while laughing, tripped over thin air and rolled down the hill, breaking her arm the next day. Ted, the boy that stole her diary had his fingers squeezed between a door that closed itself and became incredibly paranoid of ghosts. She was a bad omen, and it was a known fact in the orphanage. No one bothered her, but she could feel and hear the whispers and glares thrown at her across the dining halls. It was safe to say she kept to herself.

At five, she could already control the extremity her magic.

On her sixth birthday, she remembered a worn-looking young man looking for her.

"I'm looking for Ca- Persephone," the young man said. The man was attractive, the rebellious type of handsome with his mysterious grey eyes. His hair was ruffled, untamed and his voice was hoarse, a nervous sort of hoarse.

"Persephone Lyra Black?" To that, he nodded unsurely. He didn't know the little girl took after her mother's maiden name. "You are her relative?"

"I- I, I am her uncle," he stuttered. He sounded almost as if he was questioning himself.

"Wait a minute Mr Black while I get Persephone and, please sign these forms," the orphanage staff said, slightly relieved at the fact the young girl was finally gone. The bad omen was finally leaving.