After her parents returned from their honeymoon, Martha noticed a subtle shift in dynamics. She now had to share her father's attention with Cassandra, his new wife. Martha couldn't help but feel uneasy around Cassandra, sensing that her kindness was superficial. It seemed Cassandra only showed affection when her father was present, leaving Martha with a lingering distrust. She found this behavior odd and couldn't shake off the feeling that Cassandra was being insincere.
Tensions reached a boiling point when Martha overheard her father sharing the news with Cassandra that they were expecting a new baby. The rest of the family was ecstatic, but Martha felt like an outcast, left to simmer in her own discontent. The thought of a new sibling, especially one who would be a permanent reminder of her father's new life with Cassandra, was unbearable. She couldn't help but feel replaced and forgotten in the midst of their joyous celebration.
Martha sobbed into her sheets, feeling betrayed and replaced. 'This woman stole my daddy's heart, and now she's trying to replace me with a new baby! I wish Dad never met her. Why is this happening to me? I wish my real mother was here to comfort me, why did she leave me?' she cried out in anguish. Just as she thought she was alone in her despair, she felt a gentle hand patting her back. Confused, Martha opened her eyes to see who it was, but to her surprise, she was completely alone in the room. The comforting touch seemed to vanish into thin air, leaving her with a sense of wonder and unease.
That was strange, Martha thought, as her sorrow suddenly lifted, like a weight had been removed from her shoulders. The presence of her stepmother and the upcoming baby still lingered, but somehow, they no longer bothered her. She found this newfound sense of calm perplexing, as it wasn't the first time she'd experienced such an unexpected shift in emotions. Memories of similar events from her past resurfaced, and Martha realized that she wasn't just lucky - she was blessed. A gentle, unseen force seemed to be watching over her, soothing her troubles and filling her with an unexplainable peace.
The new baby's arrival only reinforced Martha's feelings of resentment. In her eyes, the baby was a usurper, sent to steal her place within the family. Mr. Edward had finally secured his long-desired heir, and it was clear that he never intended for Martha to inherit his fortune. His disdain for her was no longer veiled, and he made it obvious that he didn't consider her worthy of his legacy simply because of her race and gender. Unfortunately, Mr. Edward's prejudice was shared by his new daughter-in-law, Cassandra, who also looked upon Martha with disdain, further isolating the young girl.
As time passed, Martha found comfort in knowing that her father, grandmother, and aunt would always be there for her, unwavering in their love and support. However, she was also aware that not everyone in the family shared their affection, and some even harbored animosity towards her. But nothing could have prepared her for the shocking rumor that spread like wildfire on her twelfth birthday: someone at school had begun circulating a vicious lie that she was black. The absurdity of the claim was stunning, yet it still managed to pierce Martha's heart, leaving her feeling vulnerable and confused.
Martha returned home early, seeking solace from the cruel rumors at school. Instead, she found her stepmother lounging on the couch, indulging in snacks as usual. The woman's gluttony was astonishing, and Martha couldn't help but wonder how she never seemed to gain weight. 'What are you doing here, you little rascal? Skipping school now?' her stepmother asked, her mouth full of nuts. Martha broke down in tears, revealing the pain she'd endured at school. 'Everyone was making fun of me, saying I'm black.' Her stepmother's response was heartless. 'Oh, that? Your father didn't tell you? Your mother was a slave, and you're a slave too, you're just a black girl who doesn't look black. Look at your hair, it's different from everyone else's here. Your mother was a black slave, and that makes you black too.' The woman's cruelty knew no bounds, and Martha felt a deep wound. In that moment, Martha realized that her stepmother was truly evil, and she wondered how anyone could be so heartless towards a child.
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"Martha fled to the old cupboard, filled with dusty books, yellowed papers, and forgotten letters. Amidst the relics, she discovered articles about her mother's court case. With trembling hands, she took the papers, locked herself in her room, and wept as she read the words that revealed her family's painful past. Cassandra's harsh words still lingered in her mind, but as she gazed upon the pictures of her mother, Martha's sorrow transformed into wonder. She saw her own features reflected in her mother's face and couldn't help but smile. Her mother was beautiful, and Martha felt a deep connection to her. With tears of joy, she kissed the picture and pressed it close to her heart, finally embracing her true heritage.
"I hate seeing you like this, Your Highness,' a gentle voice whispered behind her. Martha's heart skipped a beat as she recognized the familiar tone. It was the same soothing voice that had read her a bedtime story on that lonely night. She turned around, and her eyes widened in wonder. This time, she was certain it wasn't a dream. Standing before her was the mysterious woman, and Martha couldn't believe her eyes. The woman's face was etched in her memory, and now, she saw it again, filled with kindness and compassion.
'You're real?' Martha asked, her eyes searching the woman's face for confirmation. 'I thought I was just imagining you.' Memories came flooding back as she gazed at the woman. 'You used to change my diapers when I was little, sing me lullabies when I woke up at night... You're my guardian angel,' Martha exclaimed, her voice filled with wonder and gratitude. The woman's presence, once a comforting dream, was now a tangible reality, and Martha felt a deep sense of joy and relief.
'Yes, I am your guardian angel, and your mother,' Atika revealed, her eyes brimming with tears. 'I've watched over you every day, longing to reveal myself to you, but I feared that if you knew the truth, you'd speak out and be accused of witchcraft, just like I was. I couldn't bear the thought of losing you, too,' Atika explained, her voice trembling with emotion. 'So I remained hidden, always near, yet apart, protecting you from afar.
'But, Mother, were you really a witch?' Martha asked, her curiosity piqued. Atika smiled, her eyes sparkling with warmth. 'Yes, I was a witch, but a white witch, a good one. We use our powers for protection, healing, and guidance, never for harm or sinister intentions. You'll learn more about our ways as you grow older,' Atika explained, her voice filled with promise. 'For now, know that you come from a lineage of strong, loving women, and you'll discover your own gifts in time.
'Then why didn't you save yourself? Are you really dead?' Martha asked, her brow furrowed in confusion. Atika's expression turned solemn, her eyes clouding with a mix of sadness and resolve. 'I did it for you, my child. I couldn't risk your life, too. It's a complicated story, one I'll have to explain to you someday. But not now, not yet. Just know that I made the ultimate sacrifice to ensure your safety and well-being.'
'Why did you let Father marry that evil woman?' Martha asked, her voice laced with concern. Atika's expression softened, her eyes filled with a deep understanding. 'Your father was still loyal to me, and I wanted him to find happiness. But I knew that woman was not right for you, my child. Don't worry about them, though - we'll be leaving soon. Your true people still need you, and I'll take you to them when the time is right.'
'My people?' Martha asked, curiosity piqued.
'Yes, the witches,' Atika replied, a hint of a smile on her lips. 'All of them, good and bad. You, my child, are next in line to be queen. Queen Martha I.' The words echoed in Martha's mind, though she didn't fully grasp their significance. Yet, she felt a thrill of excitement at the prospect of being a witch, of having a kingdom waiting for her. The thought of her mean grandfather's inheritance no longer held any appeal; she was ready to embrace her true heritage.
With her mother's presence in her life, Martha was no longer lonely. Atika guided her every step of the way, filling her with confidence and self-assurance. Emboldened, Martha proudly declared at school that she was black, and anyone who had a problem with it could leave her alone. With her mother by her side, she felt untouchable, like nothing could ever bring her down. She walked with a newfound swagger, her head held high, knowing that she had found her true identity and a love that would never falter.
'So long, master!' Atika declared, her voice dripping with triumph, as she stood before her former master, Mr. Edwards. He turned, expecting a prankster, but his eyes widened in shock as he beheld the woman he thought he'd never see again. His heart racing, he clutched his chest, and a heart attack struck him down. Rushed to the hospital, he lay unconscious, his world turned upside down. When he finally awoke, his family had vanished, but one person remained - Atika, the slave he thought he'd owned, now standing over him with a quiet victory in her eyes.