And, We Disappear

Origin: Mirror

Mirror, mirror, on the wall. . .

Can you tell me who I am?

Mirror, mirror. . .

Am I a monster?

_______________

Thin fingers picked at the loose threads of a dress that was at the cusp of falling apart. Dull eyes traced over the faded pattern of delicate flowers on a soft rose that was once much brighter and alive. Now that the dress was in her hands, Elita knew that the dress was old and out of style. 

Only the best for the family's greatest shame.

She looked outside her window and down at the gardens below. The faint sound of children 's laughter reached her ears. Elita watched her siblings play underneath the warmth of the sun and she felt herself grow envious and bitter.

So very bitter. . . 

A tear traced her pale cheeks and fell down onto the gardens under her window and idly, Elita wondered if her sorrow alone was enough to water the thorny roses and vibrant hydrangeas blooming below.

A knock sounded at the door and Elita hastily closed her window and stood in the middle of an empty room. She kneeled and kept her head bowed down, keeping her eyes fixed to the floor and to the polished black shoes that made their way in front of her.

A white-gloved hand made its way to her face and cupped her cheek. A thumb gently traced her cheekbones, her nose. Fingers traced her lips, forcing them to part slightly. Elite closed her eyes as she felt her face being turned upwards and stifled the urge to flinch when the foul breath of the man in front of her hit her nose.

Even without her eyes to see, Elita could sense the greed and hunger inside the man in front of her. She could feel it, almost tangible and sickening. But she endured nonetheless. It wasn't as if Elita had any choice after all.

The gloved hand left her face and moved to her waist. Elita was pulled flush against an older man's body and his foul breath brushed the skin of her ear. Goosebumps rose on her flesh and she tried to stop shaking. She tried to stop trembling as large hands gripped her shoulders and made their way down her sides. She tried to ignore the way rough hands cupped her breasts and played with the hem of her thin dress.

Beady and dark eyes looked at her and thin lips spread to reveal cracked and yellow teeth.

"This one will do perfectly."

The man let her go and Elita sat on her knees, looking at two pairs of shiny black shoes and two voices. One voice was of a stranger that groped her and hungered for her youthful body. One voice was of her father. Her father who hated her since the moment she opened her eyes for the first time.

"I'm glad to hear that Lord Gifre. The price you have to pay for her is low. Just 100 gold."

"100 gold for a girl as beautiful as her? Are you sure you're not giving me a discount?"

"We've been wanting to sell that girl for quite some time now but we had to wait for her first bleed. As soon as she is out of our hands, the better."

"I'm not complaining. Will I see you next week for the exchange?"

"Certainly Lord Gifre."

Two pairs of shiny black shoes made their way out of her room and left her on the floor.

Elita's eyes began to fill with tears as she processed what had just happened. She was about to be sold to be a slave.

Quiet sobs were muffled by small hands as Elita cried and cursed her eyes.

Silver tears filled her palms and overflowed, staining her floor and dress. The silver spread out, forming a sort of mirror for Elita to see her reflection and she tore her rag of a dress and wiped the tears away but not before catching a glimpse of her eyes.

Thick, dark lashes framed almond-shaped eyes. A pale blue surrounded silver, reflective pupils. The fractals of pale blue floated in silver and a darker blue separated in shattered mirrors of her eyes from the off-white of the sclera. 

Elita hated them. She hated her eyes and what they represented. What they did to her the moment her parents saw them. 

"Shattered Mirror on the floor...."

"What am I?"