The Crimes of Love and Hate

Chapter 1

SERAFINA- I had been working on the same stitch for approximately six months, and the pinpricks on my hands displayed my lack of talent. Father was angry, as per usual, and was bitter that I had outsmarted him once more. I had switched the salt and sugar in the kitchen, making a desert course for a potential client virtually inedible. He couldn't prove anything, yet that didn't stop him from forcing me to do the most torturous and vile thing: embroidery.

"Serafina," Elizabeth, my maid, called for the fourth time, "Look at your stitch once more, you don't have any thread attached to your needle! You've practically destroyed your fabric!" She shook her head, removing the patch of fabric from my loose grip. Truthfully, I knew there was no thread. I just grinned.

"The fabric will be much more useful that way." I commented, matter of factly.

"But it has to be thrown out, you've ruined it!" The maid said, becoming more and more frustrated.

"Exactly," I grinned wider as the maid shook her head, shuffling from the room, muttering under her breath. I reached down to find a pair of trousers with a large hole in the knee. I felt a faint abnormality on the waist band, and twisted the pants to find out what changed the texture. It was an embroidered name, probably so the staff knew whom it belonged to. The name read Giovanni Romano in beautiful lettering. I rolled my eyes at the thought of my younger brother's perfect skills, but an evil idea set off like a spark through my brain. I picked up an embroidery needle and blood red thread, sneaking through the hallway to the laundry room. If I was lucky, I would never be permitted to touch another sewing needle after this next act of defiance. I walked confidently through the hallways, and hoped to avoid suspicion. When I finally arrived, I smiled a little too wide for just a normal visit to the laundry hall.

"Serafina?", a young servant doing laundry questioned.

"Yes, Mary?", I responded innocently.

"Is there something I can assist you with?", the girl asked politely. It was a masked accusation, as I really had no reason to be in the laundry room. As you can imagine, with a mischievous reputation like mine, the woman began to grow worried at the prospect of trouble.

"Oh no! wouldn't dreamt of interrupting your work!" I flashed the most convincing smile I could muster, "I'll just be picking up one of my dresses a little earlier than usual. Carry on!" I responded cheerily, swooping up one of my brand new dresses. I walked slightly faster towards the door, before Mary could suspect something more.

There was a reason why many of my tricks ended in disaster. I'll be the first to admit that my impulses are not very controlled, and that I have a tendency to not plan accordingly. However, what was I if not impulsive?