In a dimly lit room, where the walls were unpainted and the only piece of furniture was a small bed, sat a young girl of fifteen. Her beauty was striking - with long olive hair, olive eyes, and fair skin that seemed to glow in the dim light. She wore an olive top and black jeans, but the beauty of her appearance was in stark contrast to the shabby surroundings.
As she gazed into a small, broken mirror, she couldn't help but feel a sense of sadness. "Beauty is a sin without power," she whispered to herself, as she began to cover her stunning figure with loose clothing. Although she tried to conceal her beauty, it was impossible to hide completely. The truth, like her beauty, could not be hidden.
She applied some black powder to her face, attempting to obscure her stunning features, and she tousled her hair to make it appear disheveled. Yet even with these attempts to hide her appearance, she still looked somewhat attractive.
"Beauty is a sin without power," she repeated, as she stared at herself in the mirror once more. Her words echoed in the quiet room, as if they were a reminder of the harsh reality she faced.
***
"Beauty is a sin without power." I repeated the phrase that my mother told me. I don't know where she is now, but I know that beauty is what take my mother away from me. She came from a good family, but because she lacked any powerful ability, she was married off to a merchant for a small gain. Unfortunately, my father's business collapsed. He too came from a good family, but they were unable to make amends due to not having powerful abilities. As a result, we had to leave the city and move to a small town because we could not afford to live in the city anymore. I closed my eyes as I remember that nightmare.
***
In the city, we did not face many problems, but in the town, we learned what it was like to live in a world where strength is everything. My eyes start to tear up as I remember my mother, my father, and our old life. When we first entered that town, we were happy, and we thought it did not matter even if we did not have money because we were happy together. But everything changed when we met the security chief of that town. In the small town, all the power was under the security chief, and before we could start living in the town, we had to get permission from the chief, and that is where our hell began.
I was about five years old when we first met the chief. He was forty years old with a bulky body, brown hair, and brown eyes. He had a scary expression at that time that made me hide behind my father. He was looking at my mother like a hungry wolf, which made my father clench his fists. I was so afraid at that time. I thought they would fight, but luckily nothing happened. However, the chief started to visit our home often, and I also became somewhat familiar with him.
One day, my father was not at home. He had gone outside of town for work, and at that time, the chief came to visit. I told him that my father was not at home, but he pushed me away and entered the house. Then he forcefully took my mother into the room. I tried to stop him, but I couldn't even touch him. He released his pressure, which made me fall to my knees. When he closed the door to the room, I knocked on it and even tried to break it down. It was the most difficult and painful night for me. I could only hear my mother's screams, even when I closed my ears with my hands, pressing them with all my force. I knew what he was doing to my mother, but I couldn't do anything because I didn't have any powerful abilities. I felt so powerless.
After a whole night, the chief left the room, but my mother still did not leave the room. So, I went inside to see if she was okay. What I saw shook me to my core. I saw my mother sitting on the bed, covered in bruises, and even blood could be seen in some places. Her beauty was nowhere to be seen. Her eyes were empty, and she looked so foreign to me. When she looked at me, she just said two sentences: "Beauty is a sin without power," and "Run away." I was so afraid that I ran away from my house.
After a day, when I returned, I saw that there was nothing left. No one was inside the house, and even the furniture was gone. I stayed there for two days. I cried, screamed for them to come back, and cursed, but nothing happened.
***
I wiped away the tears from my eyes with my hands. I had to go to work at a restaurant. I was living in a slum of a city in Silvermist state, near the Blackthorn border. I looked at my shabby clothes once again and left my small room.
***
I stood in front of the restaurant where I worked as a waiter. It was easy to find a job in the city, but I hesitated to enter. I was afraid of my manager, who harassed me every time, but I couldn't do anything about it. This was my second job, and the treatment was the same. I entered the restaurant hesitantly and saw my manager, who was the devil of my new nightmare. Sometimes, his face overlapped with the chief of the town who had destroyed my life. I moved toward him to greet him.
"Good day, sir," I said with a weak and fake smile. He looked at me and nodded his head.
"Start your work," he said as he passed beside me, pressing my butt. I did nothing, as this was his regular routine. He did this with every female worker under him.
...
I was clearing the table of a patron who had just left the restaurant when I felt someone touch my buttocks. I knew who it was.
"You can leave now or do you want something else?" he asked, while pointing his finger downwards. I looked at his mocking expression, mustered a small fake smile, and walked past him towards the exit of the restaurant.
...
In the evening, I was walking down a quiet road in the slums. It's very dangerous to walk alone on these roads because there are many crimes happening in the area these days. Slums are places where powerful people can do whatever they want, and the guards don't care about them. In fact, some even want to make the slums disappear.
As I hurried towards my house, I suddenly heard a sound from behind me. I turned around and saw a figure dressed in dark clothing. Before I could react, the person hit me on the head with something that made me lose consciousness.