She knew nothing.
But my stepmother always liked to think otherwise, to pretend that she knew everything, to feel as though she had control over every aspect of my life.
Her arrogance and cruelty were like venom, seeping into every corner of my world.
Yet, deep down, I knew she was empty, a hollow shell trying to fill the void with power over others.
I missed my mother. Life had been so different when she was here—warm, full of love, and laughter.
Sometimes, I'd close my eyes and try to imagine what my life would have been like if she were still alive.
Would I have been happy like Lily, free to dream and live without fear? Or would nothing have changed at all? Maybe I'll never know.
"Well, I'm glad I'm rid of her, and I'll be happy if you follow in her footsteps," my stepmother sneered, her face twisted into a hateful scowl.
Her words cut through me like a blade, but I refused to let her see how deeply they hurt.
I stood there, shaking, trying to hold back the tears as she continued her cruel assault.
"With all that blood on you and the way you're walking like some broken creature, who was he?" she demanded, her voice dripping with malice.
"I... I don't know," I whispered, my voice barely audible.
"What do you mean you don't know?" she snapped, her eyes narrowing with suspicion.
"He violated me. He came out of nowhere, and... and..." My voice cracked as I struggled to get the words out.
The memories of that night were too painful, too raw. Before I could stop them, tears started to fall, streaming down my cheeks.
"Well, go and get yourself cleaned up," she said, her eyes gleaming.
"You look like something the ground coughed up".my stepmother sneered, a twisted smirk playing on her lips as her eyes sparkled with cruel amusement.
Her words stung, cutting through me like a blade, but I bit my tongue, refusing to give her the satisfaction of seeing me break in front of her.
I had grown used to their mockery, the way they looked at me with disdain, but that didn't make it any easier to bear.
The weight of their judgment, the constant whispers and pointed fingers, had become a heavy burden I carried every day.
With tears threatening to spill over, I turned on my heel and fled the room, my heart pounding in my chest. My feet carried me up the stairs, down the dim hallway, and into the small, cold room that had become my sanctuary—a place where I could hide away from the world, even if only for a little while.
As soon as the door closed behind me, the dam broke. I collapsed onto the hard, unwelcoming bed, burying my face in the pillow as sobs wracked my body. The walls seemed to close in on me, the room's icy chill only adding to the overwhelming sense of despair that had settled deep in my bones.
The silence of the room was deafening, broken only by the sound of my muffled cries. The coldness of the space seeped into my skin, mirroring the emptiness I felt inside. The melancholy of it all was suffocating.
How had my life come to this? How had everything gone so horribly wrong?
I missed my mother more than ever. If she were still here, none of this would be happening. She would have protected me, shielded me from the cruelty of the world. But she was gone, and with her, all the warmth and safety I had once known had vanished too.
Now, I was alone in this cold, unforgiving world.
....
The months dragged on, each day heavier than the last. My swollen belly grew, a constant reminder of the life inside me.
I became an outcast in my own home, shunned by the villagers, whispered about by everyone.
Even the servants avoided me, their eyes filled with pity—or was it disgust? It didn't matter anymore.
All that mattered was the tiny heartbeat I could feel within me, the small kicks that reassured me I wasn't alone.
I held onto that connection, my love for this child growing stronger with each passing day, despite everything.
I would protect it with all I had, even from my stepmother's relentless attempts to get rid of it.
She never missed an opportunity to remind me of how much of a burden I was, how much shame I had brought upon our household.
But I endured it all, clinging to the hope that once my child was born, things might change.
Maybe, just maybe, I could find some sliver of happiness, some semblance of peace.
The ninth month came, and with it, the pain. It was excruciating, unlike anything I'd ever felt before.
My body felt like it was being torn apart from the inside, but I didn't care. All I could think about was the moment I would finally hold my child in my arms, the moment I could prove that something good could come from all this suffering.
But that moment never came.
I woke up to the sound of hushed voices, my vision blurry and my body weak.
The pain was gone, but so was the weight in my belly. Panic surged through me, and I tried to sit up, but my body wouldn't respond. Everything felt numb.
"Where... where is my baby?" I whispered, my voice hoarse, barely a croak.
The room was dim, and it took a moment for my eyes to adjust. My stepmother stood at the foot of the bed, her expression unreadable.
For once, there was no malice in her eyes, no trace of the cruel woman who had tormented me for so long.
But that only made the dread inside me grow.
She took a step closer, and I could see it—the faint hint of satisfaction in her eyes, buried beneath a mask of false concern.
"You lost the child," she said flatly, her words cutting through me like a knife. "It didn't survive."
I stared at her, my heart pounding in my chest, disbelief washing over me. "No... no, that's not true," I whispered, shaking my head. "You're lying."
But she didn't flinch, didn't blink. "I'm not lying," she said coldly. "It's gone. It's better this way, for everyone."
Her words echoed in my head, and I felt the world around me crumble. My child... my baby... gone? How could that be? I had felt the life inside me, the kicks, the heartbeat—how could it just be gone?
I wanted to scream, to cry out, but no sound came. My body trembled with silent sobs, my heart breaking into a million pieces.
She left the room without another word, leaving me alone in the suffocating silence. The emptiness in the room was a reflection of the emptiness inside me, a void that could never be filled.
The days that followed were a blur. I drifted in and out of consciousness, my mind numb with grief. The world continued to move around me, but I was stuck in place, frozen in that moment of loss.
I didn't know how I would go on, or if I even wanted to. All I knew was that nothing would ever be the same again.
The child I had loved, the only thing that had kept me going, was gone.
And with it, a piece of me had died too.