Paris

40

"Ladybug! What is the matter?" Chat Noir asked but I gave him no response. I was too busy watching the figure to see what its next move would be.

She stared down at me before her face where her mouth should be cracked apart up to the temple of her head.

A mouth.

Her lips were jagged as they were kept in a devious smile.

   I blinked again.

   She has now knelt right above me. I gasped when my body felt immobilized. My stomach churned to the point I wanted to throw up.

   I thought I was not afraid of my mother. I have rebelled against her wishes multiple times and stood my ground against her.

   I always felt angry when she did some redundant thing. I wanted justice for the innocent servants trying their best to meet mother's high standards. I wanted revenge for all the tears she made me shed from her cruelty and abuse.

I wanted...

I wished...

I wished my mother would treat me like an actual loving mother would to their child.

But...the only thing I am in her eyes is a tool to improving her reputation.

She will never love me...

...and I have to accept that.

Suddenly, my airflow was cut off. I felt myself suffocating and desperately tried to rip off the blackish-purple hand wrapped around my neck. The shadowy figure just stared at me with a void of emotion in those white oval-like eyes. That smile she wore seemed to mock me as if she was enjoying my conflicting pain.

"Ladybug!" Chat Noir yelled, dumbfounded. He tried to help me by attacking the threat (it being invisible to him) and tearing me away from the grip. Yet, it was not working. Was there even anything Chat could do to stop this from happening?

   Whatever this thing is, it was much too strong.

Is this something I have to do alone?

I was in distress, a mixture of different panicked emotions surging. Anxiety. Confusion. Sickliness.

"Darling."

I do not know why but I was taken aback by her voice. I knew she could talk. Before though, she had no mouth. Now that she does, her mouth only sat in the same smile that made my stomach nauseous without moving. Her voice sounded of sweet poison.

I felt myself starting to quickly lose consciousness from lack of air. My mind was growing hazier by the second. My vision was wilting away in and out. Chat Noir's desperate calls were starting to sound miles away.

Was this what people go through being choked to death? Whether it be by drowning or inhaling smoke inside a burning building or hands tightly gripping around their throat...or even being smothered by a tight-packed schedule daily.

"You have disgraced me for the last time." my mother's shadowy figure hissed with a chilling tone.

"I cannot believe something as degrading as you has my blood coursing through your veins. You will never measure up to be worthy of anything, whether it be my daughter or a heroine."

Each word stabbed at my very soul over and over and over again. My wounds bleeding sorrowfully as if they were tears running down my cheeks. The sheer anguish throbbed in my heart, leaving me a mess on the ground to suffer.

Feeling worthless.

Feeling disgraced.

Feeling alone.