The water consumed me, swallowing every last breath as I thrashed desperately, my limbs flailing against the merciless current. My screams were muffled, lost in the abyss as the weight of the water pulled me deeper. No matter how much I kicked or struggled, it was useless.
Through the suffocating silence, I could faintly hear joyful cheers coming from inside the mansion.
A celebration.
They were celebrating while I was drowning.
I had always known that to them, I was nothing—a shadow, a mistake, an existence only meant to serve. But this? This was beyond cruelty.
I felt my body grow weaker, the fight draining out of me as the cold seeped into my bones. My mind clouded, my consciousness slipping away. This was it. This was how I would die.
Then, a voice.
"Elyria! Open your eyes!"
It echoed from the darkness, pulling me back just as my vision blurred. Suddenly, strong hands dragged me out of the water, and I coughed violently, gasping as air flooded my lungs. My body trembled as I inhaled deeply, choking out the remnants of my near-death.
I blinked against the blinding lights, and my savior's face slowly came into focus.
Mira.
Our maid. The only person who ever showed me a shred of kindness.
"Th-Thank you," I managed to whisper as she helped me to my feet. My body ached with exhaustion, but she supported me as we made our way back inside—the place I hated more than anything.
The hell I called home.
Stepping through the grand doors, the celebration continued as if nothing had happened. Laughter filled the air, glasses clinked together in toasts, and voices rose in cheerful excitement. Everyone was gathered around her.
Anamis.
My elder sister. The golden child. The one they adored.
Her eyes found mine, and her lips curled into a smirk. "Oh my, you're back," she said mockingly, making sure everyone turned to see me.
I stood there, drenched and shivering, as my parents' eyes locked onto me.
My mother's face twisted with disgust. "Why are you here?" she sneered. "And why are you drenched like a common whore?"
I lowered my gaze to my soaked clothes, and the memories of what had just happened flooded back. My hands clenched into fists as I stepped forward.
"Anamis pushed me—"
SLAP!
A stinging pain exploded across my cheek before I could even finish my sentence. The sound of the impact echoed in the grand hall, and I felt the heat radiate from my skin.
I slowly turned my head back to face her—my mother—whose eyes blazed with fury.
"You filthy rag, how dare you talk back and accuse your sister?"
I wasn't shocked by the slap. I was used to this. But her words… those cut deeper than any wound. I turned my gaze to my father, silently pleading for even the faintest sign of concern.
He scoffed, his expression cold. "Don't look at me like that. You're just seeking attention. Did you forget what you are?"
I swallowed hard as the familiar phrase pierced my soul.
"Well, allow me to remind you."
I knew what was coming next.
Panic gripped me, and memories of past punishments flashed through my mind. The beatings. The blood. The pain.
I dropped to my knees, my hands clasped together in desperation. "Please… please, I'm sorry! Forgive me!" I begged, my voice trembling.
But my father only smirked, glancing at his bodyguard. "Dante."
Dante, the man who had carried out my father's orders countless times before, left the room for a brief moment. When he returned, he held a whip.
A black, bloodstained whip.
I screamed before the first strike even landed.
The leather cracked against my skin, and agony burst through my body. The pain was unbearable, each lash tearing into me as I curled into myself, trying to shield what little dignity I had left.
"What are you?" my father's voice boomed.
I clenched my jaw, refusing to answer. Another brutal strike landed, knocking the air from my lungs.
"Speak!" my mother snapped.
I gasped, my voice barely a whisper. "A… a donor baby."
Laughter erupted around the room. Anamis. My parents. Their guests. They all chimed in, amused by my suffering.
"Louder!" my uncle Carl shouted, grinning with sadistic pleasure.
I squeezed my eyes shut, bracing myself.
"A donor baby!" I screamed as another lash struck across my neck.
"Ay. Pick the trash up and clean this place," my father ordered.
Dante and another guard, Errie, grabbed me without hesitation. My body was too weak to fight back as they dragged me across the floor. Blood smeared against the pristine marble as I was hauled away like a broken doll.
As we left, my mother turned back to the crowd and raised a glass. "Everyone! A toast to my beautiful daughter, Anamis, who has officially turned eighteen and graduated high school!"
Cheers erupted. Laughter resumed. As if nothing had happened.
I jolted awake to the overwhelming stench of blood and dirt.
I knew where I was without needing to look.
The basement.
I sat on a filthy brown rag, my body aching with every small movement. The dimly lit room was damp, cold, and covered in stains of old blood.
I turned my head towards the tiny clock on the wall. 11:55PM.
My birthday was in minutes.
Fear paralyzed me.
I knew what was coming. I knew what they would do.
You can't do anything.
A voice whispered from within me. My throat clenched, and silent tears began to spill down my cheeks.
The door creaked open.
Mira stepped in, carrying a small tray. She carefully placed it in front of me, revealing a thin slice of stale bread and a glass of water.
"I'm sorry… this is all I could sneak in today," she whispered, her voice filled with pity.
I gave her a weak smile. "Thank you."
She nodded before quickly hurrying out.
I clasped my hands together, murmuring a quiet prayer. "Lord, bless this meal."
I downed the water in one go, then took small bites of the bread, savoring every crumb. It wasn't much, but at least I had eaten something today.
Then—
A voice from the top of the stairs.
"Ohhh, Mary…"
My body stiffened.
Anamis.
Her voice was like nails on a chalkboard, sweet yet laced with malice.
She sauntered down the steps, her heels clicking against the cold concrete. When she reached me, she scrunched her nose in disgust.
"Filth," she spat.
I remained silent, my heart hammering.
She knelt beside me, her lips curling into a cruel smirk. "Guess what time it is?"
Dread coiled in my stomach. I glanced at the clock.
11:59 PM.
She giggled, her laugh sharp and chilling. "Bare night."
The blood drained from my face.
"Dante!" she called out. "Fetch our parents. Bring the tools."
She bent lower, whispering into my ear.
"Happy birthday, sis."
I couldn't breathe.
I couldn't think.
But I knew one thing for certain.
Elyria, you're done for.
My mind was in chaos as I struggled to make sense of what was happening.
"You know, I never liked you," she stated.
Well, that's nothing new.
"Don't cry over nothing, okay?" she said with a smile.
"The devil's time is here," I heard my mother declare as they walked in.
She signaled to Errie, and he grabbed me by the arm. Tears flowed freely as he dragged me outside and threw me to the ground, making me land hard on my already bruised back. The three of them lined up while the crowd behind them applauded.
My mother cleared her throat. "Shela, Leah. Dispose of her rags now."
In an instant, both maids tore off my clothes despite my protests. I was left in only my underwear as the cold breeze lashed against my skin, making me shiver. This time of year, London was bitterly cold.
"Now, who goes first?" my father chirped, sounding eager to be entertained.
"Anamis!" the crowd, dressed in all black, roared from their seats.
I kept shivering as Anamis strolled toward me with practiced elegance.
"Don't worry, I'll make it quick," she whispered before pulling out a long black whip lined with sharp nails. Her deadly glare sent chills through me.
"Ahhhhhhhhhh!" I screamed bitterly as she brought the whip down on my skin.
The pain was unbearable. I collapsed onto the grass while the crowd erupted in applause, satisfied.
"Now it's Gardlair's turn," my mother announced.
My father stepped forward, his signature smirk stretching across his face. He dangled the chains in his hands.
"No, no! Please—please, I didn't do anything!" I begged, but it was useless.
Annoyance flickered across his face before he suddenly sprang into action, wrapping the thick chains around my throat.
"A-ah—!" I gasped, struggling to break free as my oxygen slipped away. Darkness quickly consumed me.
Splash!
Ice-cold water jolted me awake. I panted heavily, coughing and shivering.
"The star of the show is awake!" my mother announced. The crowd fell silent.
She approached me with calculated steps. Before I could react, she grabbed a fistful of my hair and yanked me up.
I cried and pleaded, but she only laughed. "You filthy murderer," she snarled.
I had always known they blamed me for my mother's death. She died giving birth to me, and so her sister had been forced to marry my father, becoming our "new" mother.
"This Mafia isn't big enough for traitors," she spat before flinging me aside and spitting on me.
I lay there, half-naked, covered in bruises and sweat, sobbing uncontrollably.
"Pathetic," she growled.
"Take her back," my father ordered.
I was dragged away, thrown back into the mansion's basement. The door slammed shut, leaving me alone in the dimly lit room.
I crawled to the rag on the floor, curled up, and cried.
"Why? Why? What did I do to deserve this?"
Ely, be brave.
But how could I be brave when the people meant to protect me were the ones causing me the most pain?
I lay there, sobbing, wishing for it all to end.
Hours passed before the door fluttered open.
"Where are you..."