The picture is Sang's necklace!
I wake up with blood on my hands.
Literally.
"What happened here?" I moan and roll over to look at the trembling maid who is whiter than white and standing in the doorway.
"Y-Y-Your-r—"
"Spit it out or die!" I sing out, pulling out the nine millimeter pistol I always sleep with under my pillow.
The maid faints and collapsed like a deadweight.
Looks like she'll have to die. Not by me, though. By the head maid who is standing behind her and is both furious and mortified.
"I'm so, so sorry. She is a new maid, I'll have her dealt with immediately," Sylvia assures me hurriedly.
"No," I order sharply. "First, you will explain to me why I woke up with blood on my knuckles."
Sylvia's eyes widen and she looks around nervously. Her silvery hair is pulled into a tight him like always and her navy and white maid's uniform is perfectly clean.
"Y-Your sisters came in t-to do something in here while you were sleeping, but you punched them both a few times in your sleep," Sylvia stutters out, her bright blue eyes bulging with fear.
Do something?
I scoff at the thought.
Clearly they meant to beat me in my sleep.
They've done it to others, but they haven't ever tried to hurt me in my sleep because they can hurt me while I am awake. I guess it wasn't enough.
My lips curl upward in vicious pleasure as I think of what I did in my sleep to Jade and Marie. Whatever I did, I punched them enough to make my scarred knuckles bleed.
Hey, now I can say that I have literally beat someone in my sleep, it is so easy.
I groan and climb out of bed, already missing the warmth of my blankets and where I had warned the mattress with my body heat. Stumbling from exhaustion, I make my way to the bathroom.
I guess I am just tired from being up so late last night. But everybody knows you have to kidnap people at night while they are sleeping. It is like an unwritten rule of dramatic kidnappings.
Once I am finished in the bathroom, I begin to get dressed quickly, knowing that Mother is in her way already. I fling open my closet and pull on a white lace dress that stops just above my knee, white flats, and white lace gloves to cover my knuckles. In short, I looking like a damn bride minus the veil. But Mother insists on me wearing this, saying that dolls don't talk back and dolls don't get to pick their own clothes out. I'll have to change out of it later, though.
Right on cue, Mother comes in, way too cheerful. Why is she do cheerful? She is never this cheerful, especially not in the morning and especially not around me. I sit ramrod straight at the dark wood vanity and keep my green eyes vacant and my body perfectly still. I definitely don't want to anger her.
"Start singing, doll," Mother orders with an overly sweet tone as she grabs the ivory comb off of my vanity.
I start to sing a lullaby as Mother works through my hair getting out all the tangles and snarls. I wince and tears come to my eyes throughout the whole time she is yanking the comb through my hair, but I do not let it affect my singing knowing that not singing or screwing up the song would be a grave mistake.
The lullaby pours out of me as I focus on the words paying attention so I don't mess up and ruin Mother's oddly cheerful mood. She takes her time and it takes her a while to finish with my long, thick hair. I don't like having my hair this long, but Mother is the one in control here.
"Now, my little doll, your hair is done. Do not leave the house," She orders me, her voice turning into steel with the last sentence.
I give the tiniest of nods to show that I am listening. But I am not really listening. She gives the same exact order everyday. The only time I have left the house since I arrived, was to go on missions.
When we use the word house, we mean it very loosely. This building is humongous and old, like a castle or a tower.
Mother looks me over and wrinkles her nose in disgust.
"I suppose it is the best I can do for a whore like you," Mother decides.
I don't say anything.
Her words hardly mean anything.
I do not value Mother's opinion because I don't ever know if she is lying or telling the truth. When she says that I am the most beautiful doll, I get proud and put too much effort into my appearance. When she calls me hideous, I get hurt and try too hard to fix myself. And normally, these two opinions can be stated in the same hour when I look the same! How can I sort out the truth in her lies?
Besides, there is no need to ever dress up, I know that I am not pretty, in fact I am quite ugly. No, my saving grace is in my unique coloring. My pale skin, my vivid green eyes, and my chameleon hair are the only things that keep me from being too big of an eyesore.
I personally couldn't care less about how I look, especially since I never leave. No. My parents are the ones that care. They call me ugly, but want to display my looks to others. Father says he likes to look at me, that my gross looks and scarred are intriguingly revolting. I have just come to accept that I will never be pretty like Jade and Marie.
Mother finally stops staring at me and stomps out of the room.
I tug at my gloves uncomfortable with them, before striding to Father's office.
He promised me a diamond necklace.
I wait outside the door, listening for the signs that someone else is in there.
Satisfied in the knowledge that he is alone, I push open the old oak door and slip into his office. I clear my throat gently to take his attention from his work.
Startled he looks at me before quickly concealing his emotions.
"You must be here for your payment," He surmises.
I nod, being careful not to let even a fraction of my excitement show on my face.
Father pulls out a black box and tossed it to me causing me to nearly have a heart attack.
Sure, I caught it easily, but you should never throw diamonds! It is as if he threw my infant child. A crime. An evil, cruel, malicious crime. A crime that only the most nefarious of villains would commit. A crime that deserves death. Well, that might be going a little overboard. For the baby. Throwing the diamonds should result in death by torture, obviously.
I push down my murderous thoughts, and merely fantasize about killing Father as I walk out of the room cradling my necklace.
Back in my room, I delicately take the necklace out of the box and sigh.
I carefully move my hair out of the way and put on the necklace before looking at my reflection and sighing again at the beautiful stones.
I leave my room once again to go to the library.
Soon, I arrive and push the door open and the smell of old books and dust washes over me. I allow a small smile, seeing the familiar place.
The library.
Also known as the most avoided room in the entire building.
And, because of its size, the library is one of the most fortified rooms because it can hold so many people. The size also allows for many hiding places among the seating and the shelves and the pieces of furniture and the decorations.
Light filters in through the large windows placed high on one of the walls.
I make my way silently to one of the tables in the empty room.
Pulling out one of the wooden chairs, I sit down primly and properly the way dolls like me should.
Because, really, that's all I am.
A doll.
Someone for these people to look at and feel better about themselves when they see my scars. Someone for these people to look down on constantly.
Trey Porter comes in a second later before confidently walking up to various shelves and pulling out books. His arms full of knowledge, he walks up to me and sets the books down.
"Hello, sweetheart," He greets me.
"Hello, Trey," I reply.
He calls me sweetheart, but we are not sweethearts. People rarely address me by my name, if they address me at all, because there I don't have a name. Some people call me Sang, some call me by my fighting name, and others call me their own nicknames, like Trey does.
Trey is a little taller than me with carrot colored hair and dark brown eyes. He is my tutor and has been for the last two years since Father killed the last one. Trey is twenty three and used to be ahead of me in my already advanced studies, but now we are learning the material together. According to Trey, I am a prodigy or a genius. I disagree because all I do is study other people's work, which isn't that hard to do or remember.
We dive right in and spend the next two hours purely studying, before Trey finally calls it good.
"Ugh," He groans leaning back in his chair and stretching his arms out.
I close my book and straighten my papers.
"Honestly, I don't know how you are able to study for so long," He tells me.
I shrug.
"Tunnel vision, I suppose."
I don't suppose.
I know.
Living here has taught me to focus on one thing with fervor, ignoring everything else.
Just lift the weights, ignore the burn and the shouting of the trainer.
Just scrub the floors, ignore your fatigue and the jeering remarks and disgusted looks from passerby.
Just sing for Mother, ignore the smacking for your movements and the curl of her lip that shows her hatred.
Just drink the poison, ignore the burning of it and the side effects and the crazed analytical look on Father's face.
Just smile vacantly like the doll you are, and ignore the fact that you haven't eaten in a week or slept in days and everyone you are smiling at has told you how much they hate you.
Tunnel vision is important and oh so helpful.
Trey smiles and asks, "Hey, sweetheart, so you want to join me for lunch?"
For some reason, he seems nervous about asking me.
"Sorry," I apologize , giving him my vacant smile, "It's not my meal time yet."
Trey looks troubled and immediately replies, "I'm sorry, I forgot that you aren't nor—that you are only allowed to eat once a day."
I blink slowly, not sure of how he wants me to respond.
But I know what he was about to say.
That I'm not normal.
He shouldn't have too worry about saying it, though.
I, of all people, know that I am far from normal.
I am below normal.
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Thank you for reading!
I will begin updating this more regularly now that Sang Insane is completed.
This is my first time using a banner, so please let me know if it is blurry or distorted on the device you are using!
The cover will be changed all the time, mostly because I love making covers!
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JadeQueen100