[Perspective: A Strange Girl]
I have no name. No one to speak to. No place to call home.
I exist, but it feels like I've never truly lived. The memories of a family, even the love of my parents, were a lie.
I never asked to be born this way. I didn't choose this pain. But they don't care. All they see is a curse.
The wind brushes past me. It is just another endless night.
Was it senseless to look for a place to call home? A place where I'm loved, not just forgotten?
I press my palms together. My fingers tremble. It feels like the only thing keeping me from falling apart.
My breath hitches. The silence feels heavy.
Living is supposed to be a gift. The world has endless skies, colorful flowers, rivers sparkling in the light.
A small smile tugs at my lips as I imagine it.
Sometimes, I wonder what life as a normal person would be like. Even in the darkest nights, the stars shine.
I sit alone in the dark, reaching up toward the stars.
Maybe there's a way out of this life.
But the thought is fragile. It is too far for me to reach.
I can't keep lying to myself. For me, life is just an endless punishment. Sometimes, I wonder if they're right. If I really am a monster.
I look down at my palms. They are worn and marked with scars.
Why?
The question echoes in the silence. Why was I born to endure this torment alone?
I never hurt anyone. I never wanted to. But they always see me. Every single one of them hates me.
The weight of it presses down on me. I dig my fingers into the dirt.
Their eyes are dark and sharp. I close mine, but I still see them.
Every glance strips away what little hope I have left.
I curl tighter, wrapping my arms around my knees. I wish I could disappear.
The cold wind whispers like the voices in my head. The darkness presses closer.
Maybe I deserve it. Maybe I'm meant to carry the vision of their disgust forever.
I want to scream at them.
I've begged them. I've told them I didn't want to hurt anyone.
But they are deaf. They never hear me. The certainty in their eyes is always the same. They think I'm guilty. Something to be erased.
I press my palms into my face to hold back the tears.
No one is coming to save me. No one ever will.
Every day is a battle to survive. They call me names. If I am close enough, they shout it at me.
"Monster."
They say it like it is my name. They tell me I bring misfortune. That I am the Queen of Curses.
Every time they say it, it feels like something inside me dies.
I look at my old white dress. The fabric is faded and torn from countless attacks. The short sleeves barely reach my hands. The hem brushes the ground. I feel like someone precious gave it to me, but the memory is faint.
The thin cloth does nothing to block the winter cold. I shiver.
But the worst part is my reflection.
My red eyes. They are a curse. They burn with a color that makes people see me as evil. I didn't ask for this. But they see the red, and they decide who I am.
I hate them. But I hate myself even more for not being able to escape them.
Instead of anger, I just feel empty. I don't have the strength to hate them back. I just want to escape. To leave this cruel existence.
I pull my legs closer to my chest. The cold air cuts through me. The emptiness in my heart spreads.
Is it even worth it? Maybe I am a curse. Maybe I am a monster.
"You're nothing but a curse! Go die, monster!"
Their words echo in my mind.
Maybe if I just gave up, they could finally rest. And so could I. I'm so tired.
Then, I hear it. Footsteps drawing closer. The crunch of boots on dry leaves.
Hunters.
I have faced them before. Searing fire magic. Sharp lightning. Swords flying through the air.
Unlike the villagers, these hunters find joy in it. They laugh when they torture me. They relish in breaking me.
I squeeze my eyes shut. I press my palms against them. The memories keep coming back. Twisted faces. The crack of a whip. The heat of fire on my skin.
They used to drag me back. They beat me until I could barely breathe. Leave me in a cell.
And then they tried to hang me.
I remember the rope burning into my neck. The crowd laughing as I struggled. I gave up and let the darkness close in.
But I woke up in the forest. My hands were covered in cuts. The rope was gone, but the pressure remained. Why?
Then they tried to burn me alive. The flames tore at my skin. I waited for the end.
But I woke up near a river. The burns were there, but the fire was gone.
Why did I survive again?
I draw my knees up to my chest. The night feels colder.
I wish I hadn't survived. I wish the darkness had swallowed me. But no... I always survive.
What did I do to deserve this? Why am I the one who has to suffer?
I look up at the stars.
I wanted to live. I wanted to smile without it being a lie.
But there is no happiness out there. The stars are distant and cold. Just like me.
The tears come again. I bury my hands in my hair. For four years, I have been drowning in this misery.
I just want it to stop.
Everything feels far away. I kneel in the field. I try to stand, but a sharp pain shoots through my right leg.
A rock had hit me earlier. The villagers had chased me, desperate to make me leave.
I lean against a tree to steady myself. I just want someone to hear me. But I am alone.
For someone like me, life doesn't exist. The only escape is death.
Maybe then, this nightmare will finally end.
The fear gnaws at my veins. It never stops.
Then I hear them. Heavy, uneven footsteps.
My heart stops. The sickening feeling tightens my chest.
They are coming for me again.
This time, to finish the job.