Descendants- A Mistake

Chapter 1

(Art is not mine)

Rotten to the Core

Mal stared out at the magic barrier from a rooftop on the Isle of the Lost.

She had just kept running today, not wanting to go back to her 'home' after what happened.

A sigh comes from her lips as she watched the sunset.

She was the only teen on the island, heck, everyone else was a stuffy old adult.

In other words there was no one she could talk to.

Not that she'd want to have friends or anything, because that would be weak.

Mal stared down at her arm, seeing the bruise.

Today her mother had 'accidentally' thrown her into a armor stand.

Yeah, great times.

She let's out a pained gasp as she pressed it lightly with her fingers, trying to hide the fact that it actually hurt.

No one was here to see her cry, so why was she holding up an act?

She knew why.

She wanted to convince herself that she was purely evil, tough, cruel...

But she just couldn't bring herself to hide it anymore.

She sat on the rooftop, not a single tear coming from her eyes.

After all, she never cries.

You'll never make her proud. She thought bitterly before shrugging on her makeshift jacket and getting up from the edge of the building.

She turned to face her duffel bag, scooping it up and shouldering it, letting it rest against her back.

The sound of spray cans inside clicked at the sudden motion, making her smile at her last joy.

Art.

Her mother still hadn't found a way to mess that up, and Mal hoped and wished that her mother never did.

After all, Mal did know about her mother hiding her.

She knew all the other kids were living happily in Auradon.

And she knew that to her mother and everyone else, she was just a plan.

A last hope of getting revenge.

Mal could understand that, after all she was told what she was everyday, but she still couldn't help but wonder where she would be, who she would be if she had been taken away from this stupid island.

With a sigh Mal walked across the rooftop, effortlessly jumping to the next, humming a tune she wasn't sure of.

Rotten to the core, rotten to the core.

She jumped to another building which lead to a billboard of King Adam, a speech bubble saying something stupid about being good.

I'm rotten to the core, who could ask for more.

Black combat boots met the platform of the billboard sign, letting her finally put down the bag of paint.

I'm nothing like the kid next door.

She took out green and purple, spraying two dragons in the shape of half hearts right next to each other, making a full one.

She painted over it a few times before looking at the untouched speech bubble.

She strutted over, looking at it with anger in her eyes.

Before she can even blink an eye, white paint has covered up the original writing.