Let me tell you a story, child.
It is quite heartbreaking, indeed. It is a story of cruelty and malice. This cruelty, however, is accepted by the people. This place is not safe for your kind. It is not safe for anyone, especially poor Meredith.
Oh, sweet Meredith. How she loved the birds and the trees, the lake and all its creatures. The sunlight that flittered through the trees each morn. Ever since she was a young girl, she loved such scenes in her secret place in the forest. However, she was terribly afraid of monsters. The monsters that shot her glares and bristled as she passed scared her, but not nearly as much as the ones cackling and pointing, or the ones who actually came and pulled on her clothes, her hair, and her books.
The townspeople were her monsters.
Meredith, you see, she was strange. There was a skepticism between her parents about if she was actually their child. They looked upon her with disdain. The maids held their heads high to her, never once stopping to talk to her. Her older brother Eden refused to acknowledge her presence. The rest of Meredith's family was of straight brown hair and blue eyes, while Meredith, with black hair cascading down her back in waves, held eyes of such deep brown, that in a certain light, they looked like brilliant red garnets. Her family was of ruddy complexion, while she was white as milk. Her family was of sturdy frame, and she, she was so small, so thin, so seemingly fragile, her big eyes just making her seem like a mouse. When she was old enough to understand the ways of church, her mother dragged her from her bed and suited her in her best dress.
"Come now, Meredith. You will learn the ways of the Lord."
And so she did. Meredith learned all that the church could teach her, but that did not stop the snickers, the sneers, or the crass comments about how strange she was. And when the other children would mock her, she would merely sit, wide eyed, alone, and afraid.
"Devil child! You should not be able to set foot in church, you heathen!"
"But I love God!" The poor girl would squeak.
"Well, God does not love you!" The other children sneered back.
Around age eight or nine, the other girls from Meredith's school began pulling at her detailed black lace dresses. They took her books and threw them in the well. They threw dirt at her hair. All the while, the girls laughed and pointed, screeching "misfit" and "devil child". The girls left her there, standing alone, covered in dirt and ripped lace. Not a single emotion could be read from her face for a few moments, before slowly, the tears came. Large waterfalls of crystal tears, rolling one after the other. Her favorite book had been thrown in that well. She stood there, watching the girls' retreating backs, until she heard something in the well. Meredith looked over and found the small bucket to be down in the well, the string shaking violently. Grunts were heard, until a hand reached up the rope. Mystified, Meredith dried her tears as best as she could and stepped closer to the well. Another hand clamped itself on the edge of the well, and a boy hoisted himself up. His trousers were soaked, but he payed no mind to Meredith as he worked the well's crank. Meredith observed him, this boy with a white, half buttoned blouse and black trousers, black wispy hair that hung down to his shoulders, and milky white skin.
"Pardon me?" Meredith whispered. The boy never looked up. Instead, he kept pulling the crank of the well until the bucket was at the top, and to Meredith's surprise, all three of her books were inside the barrel. He looked up at her for the first time, revealing his deep garnet-like eyes, and smiled, flashing a brilliant smile as Meredith ran towards him with glee.
"I saw what those mean girls did to you, so I got your books back."
"Oh, thank you, thank you so much! What is your name?"
