When I turned nine, my father sold me to a woman everyone called a witch. She lived in a dark, creepy mansion alone inside the forest, dressed in all black, and never communicated with anyone. After a week, she took me out to do whatever it was she wanted to do with me, so I took that opportunity to run away.
When I returned, my father was angry at first, but when she didn't come looking for me, he saw it as an opportunity to sell me to another family and told me to run away. I did as he asked, and in elation, he granted me a wish—the dish I wanted to try but couldn't because I didn't have any money to get it. We continued that business, selling me to families that needed a child or a maid in different towns, then running away after a few days.
It ended after a year when I was sold to a family that, at the time, seemed better than all the rest. They showed me more affection than I had ever experienced; to them, they did it because I was 'cute.'
I didn't run away after the expected time; I stayed longer, telling myself I'd go later but never did. That changed after a month when the 'cuteness'-driven affection turned to obsession, then it evolved into something I can't name. They soon started deriving joy from causing me physical pain because I 'look cute when I cry.'
When the torture became unbearable, I tried running away, but that was when a realization dawned on me. Even if I had tried running away in the first week, it would have been impossible. I don't want to speak of the torture I experienced that day.
After five years of staying there, I found out I had a rare disease called Large Worm. It could have been managed, but I couldn't risk it. Those maniacs used every opportunity they got to hurt me.
The thing is, I don't know what happened that day when I was having one of my bad seizures, but I woke up as a kid—not just a kid, but nine-year-old me.
"Wha…" I tried speaking again, but it was hard. I was hungry, which was not a foreign feeling to me. I had been starved as punishment for my 'mistakes.' That wasn't a popular punishment; in fact, to me, it was mercy.
I walked out of the house and looked around. I used to eat anything I could lay my eyes on, but I don't know if that is possible anymore. I looked at the squirrel that was quietly eating whatever it was eating and drooled; hunting is also impossible. I'm so hungry; I feel like I haven't eaten in days. Have I eaten in days?
I walked back to the cottage and to my room. I lay on my futon and decided to sleep off the hunger.
I opened my eyes and stood up, walking to the sitting room. I looked at the battered door to my father's room and sighed in relief at the knowledge of his absence.
I went back to my room, brought out the books from under my futon, and opened one to read. I used to do that to get my mind off the hunger, even if it only worsened it.
"T… The a… apple is…" I understood the words. I could read since I was six, but talking was just proving impossible. Anytime I tried speaking, I was reminded of the times I was punished for speaking too low or too loud. I dropped the book and decided to go find something to do so that I could put something in my stomach.
…
The day was a tough waste of time and energy. I forgot that I'm a girl, and finding a temporary job, especially as a kid, is nearly impossible. All the nobles already have maids and servants, the people in the market assume I'm a thief any time I offer to carry their bags, and the shop owners are not interested in employing a skinny child in a worn-out dress because I look like a beggar.
I walked inside and was met with a sight that I didn't want to see or remember. The witch. She was here to take me away.
"Where were you?" my father shouted, and I flinched. He raised his hand, and I recoiled in fear, memories of my so-called brother flashing through my head.
"Don't touch her," the woman said, and he stopped.
"Pay up," my father said. He's selling me again; things are playing out the same way. That means yesterday was my birthday. Happy birthday, Faina.
She brought out a bag of coins and threw it at him. He caught it with a smirk.
"Good doing business with you," he said. "Kid, you'll be going with her," he said, walking past me. I couldn't say anything even if I wanted to, so I nodded slowly.
"What is your name?" she asked.
"I… I…" I tried speaking but was too scared to.
"Are you scared?" she asked. I might get hit if I don't speak up. "I'll call you Livi for now," she said, and I nodded slowly. "Do you want to pack?" she asked, and I shook my head. Does she really think I have any valuable possessions?
We took a carriage to the mansion. It was exactly as I remember: dark and scary. I remember being surprised to find out that there were other people in the mansion, but they were as dark and scary as their mistress.
"Clean her up and get her ready for dinner," she ordered the maids at the door.
"Yes, my lady," they chorused.
"And don't question her," she finished. I could really use dinner right now.
They took me to the same room I was taken to before. I remember being awed by the expensive decorations and how big the room was.
It felt like I shed off a skin when I was done bathing. Wearing something clean and feeling clean was just right for me. I sighed as they brushed my hair. Looking at myself again is still as surprising as the first time.
I have black hair like my father, but that was all. My other features were solely my mother's. I have blue eyes like hers with pale skin, though I look paler than she did, and very petite features. If I died when I was sixteen, even then, I was still tiny. It was one of the reasons why I was seen as 'cute.'
At first, I blamed starvation and poor hygiene. Then that changed, so I blamed the torture, but that didn't seem like a good excuse. Then I blamed the Large Worm. I have come to terms with the fact that I'm a shorty, and I can't change even if I tried. My mother was not this short; in fact, she was tall.
I followed the maids to the dining room where the lady was seated. She looked up and scanned me, then pointed to the chair opposite her. I sat down quietly and looked at my fingers. The food was served, and even though I was hungry, I was too scared to eat. What if she gets angry because I started eating without her permission?
"Why aren't you eating?" she asked, and I flinched. Is she angry?
"I…" I started but trailed off again. The sound of cutlery on the plate made me look up.
"My name is Myra Alden. I am a noble lady, and I am definitely not a witch and do not eat children," she said. Who said she eats children? "So don't be scared, Livi. I adopted you because I wanted a child. If you want to go back to your father, tell me, and I'll do that. I don't want you to be uncomfortable here. I don't expect you to feel at home immediately, but remember that everyone in this building is here to serve you," she said, and I nodded. "And if you really want to go home, tell me before I finish the papers," she said, and I nodded.
"I'm… I'm Faina," I said.
"Faina, that's an interesting name," she said with a smile. "But I like Livi better," she finished. "Can I call you Livi?" she asked, and I nodded.
I ate the food with joy because I was very hungry. Having not eaten for days, I couldn't taste the food; I just gobbled everything down.
After dinner, I was shown back to my room and helped into a nightgown, then they left me in the dimly lit room. I looked around it for some minutes before making my way to the bed. I closed my eyes and opened them immediately because of the images that filled my head. Sleeping yesterday was easy because I was hungry and basically passed out, but now I've eaten, my brain is functioning properly again.
I'm scared. All those things might be gone, but the memories are still there.