What would you do if you ended up in a world beyond yours, in a body broken and bruised?
I did what I had to do: I survived.
My plans and goals are my only focus. My protection and loyalties lie with only those in my close circle and the ones who h...
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"Girl with a life more wretched than my own."
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My eyes flutter open, the world a hazy blur before me. Gradually, the darkness clears, revealing the grim reality of my surroundings.
Where am I?
I... am I still alive?
My head pounds in a headache for the ages, somehow managing to distort my sight even more than when I opened my eyes. But even through the uncertainty and bleariness, I can make out enough to know I'm not in the alley I closed my eyes in.
I find myself in a dreary, dimly lit cell-Dark walls, no lights. Cold air. The air is damp, heavy with the stench of mildew and decay, assaulting my already weakened senses.
Was I captured?
I try to move, to rise from the cold stone floor, but a searing pain courses through my body, reminding me of the injuries that bind me. Something restricts my movements and I blink to see what's holding me. Chains encircle my wrists, securing me to the unforgiving wall. The metal bites into my flesh, and it's coldness does nothing to sooth the burns of my damaged skin.
Just as I think that I was caught on my death bed, I look down at my abdomen with a frown. I'm wearing some sort of dress, made with fine silks and cottons I don't typically wear. I expect to see blood leaking onto the fine fabric, perhaps bandages holding back the red liquid.
Nothing.
I force myself to ignore the pain surrounding my body, and lift myself to a sitting position. It takes all of me to ignore my attire, a problem for another moment once I check beneath my dress. As fine as the material is, it's drenched in what smells like urine and is easy to pull off.
My body is littered with bruises.
But...there's no stab wound to my chest.
How...how is that possible?
As if on cue, I fall forward down to my elbows with a gasp of pain. Memories that I know aren't mine bombard my mind like fire ants with a vengeance. I see flashes of a life beyond mine. Of a young noble girl.
Nirvana Sigrid Sinclair.
Wretched images of a life none would envy emerge deep into my mind's eye. It makes the pounding pain and the disorientation so much worse, leaving me at the cusp of hurling onto the already filthy floor. When I manage to breathe long enough to not cringe in pain, I notice my hand laying before me. They're thin. Delicate.
Not mine.
"What?" My eyes widen as I lift my hands.
With a cold determination, I sit up, despite the pain that lances through my body. I refuse to succumb to weakness, to let the agony break me. My eyes narrow, filled with a steely resolve. I scoff at my injured state, thinking how despite being alive, i'm not so sure i'm better off right now.
