'The last relief,' she called it, smiling like a star.
Yet, that last relief has turned into an unattainable dream.
She kept blaming herself for all that had happened. In reality, it wasn't her fault.
She never had any alternatives except to head to her father's house.
Even if it meant she had to nearly die on a street. Getting back to her father—living with him and his fatherly warmth—was her God-given right.Yet, she still blamed herself for the one thing she knew would disappoint him, even if he were to return from heaven.
She sat down in the corner of the house, her chin resting on her knees as her back bent forward. Her hands hugged her folded legs.
Her eyes were wide open but unable to see. Her ears were very sensitive but unable to interpret the sounds she heard. That's trauma—she didn't want to eat nor drink, even move nor talk.
Finally, she breathed out her very first word after becoming traumatized:
"I should have never come... I should have stayed home with that worthless mother... I should have died in the street."
She had heard the conversation between the neighbors. The guy who had a shop next to the blacksmith shop her father had was telling them her father's history.
The moment he spoke of her stepfather, they told him, "He killed him; he does that a lot."
She finally realized it. Her father knew about it—he knew he would die, but he didn't stand silent when his daughter got trashed.
She cried. Her tears fell as a cascade from a fountain. Her horrendously raucous scream shook the local people's hearts.
She stood up, jumping and bouncing wildly, slamming her head against household goods, but mainly the wall.
They rushed in, grabbing her hands and holding her.
The town had alchemists who heal people from the town. They stopped her by using a temporary sleep potion.
It lasts for three days. They took her to her room.
The next day, the investigation ended; they received a letter saying her father's body had been sent to his house.
The local people helped in preparing the house for a funeral.
---
On the funeral day, her mother and stepfather were present. Her mother, wiping the evil smirk off of her face, went to see her daughter.
The town's local people, in addition to the villagers of the village where Eira and her father were from, were horrified. It then led to silent control over Eira's mother.
A young man with a beard on his face barged in. His face looked exactly like Eira's father. He was his long-awaited younger brother.
After paying his respect and gratitude for his older brother, he asked where Eira was. Her mother,happily holding her hands, came and told him, "My daughter is mine, and I have the right to do it my way since I have the paper."
He realized he was late; her stepfather and mother had arrived long before he came. No matter what he did now, it was futile.
It might even backfire with her stepdad chasing after him as he did for his older brother (her father).
So he approached her gently, patting her head and smiling. "Come, we have a long time."
Eira didn't recognize him—not at all. She didn't know him. So after he took her out back to the backyard, he gave her a small map. "If you ever get out of home and wonder where to go, I will be there. Remember to head straight."
---
The funeral ended, and her mother took her back to where she called it home, while it was hell.
The motherly love she was never blessed with had her go crazy by installing plans for Eira.
Eira, barely standing, had no way she wouldn't react, none fidgeting to such a disgraceful scene.
Armed and unarmed, naked men loitering in the house.
At this point, she was an 8-year-old girl.
The moment her mother opened the door, they all gang up on her, lusting over her body, pressing her chest and back, moving their hands all over her mother's body.
She was in such turmoil. Her stepfather patted her shoulder with an irritating look and said to her, "It's okay; they won't be here for a long time. It's just that your mother isn't experienced, so I wanted them to teach her."
She lost her mind. She is eight years old, and yet this happened.
At night, the annoying squeaks of the beds, the sound of the ladies that joined the house later that night, the lustful groans and sounds of the people left her mentally ill.
It kept repeating day in and day out. Until one day, her mother approached her and claimed that she had found a perfect place for her.
Eira, confused, asked what the hell she was talking about. Her stepfather noticed and told her mother, "Is she ready for this? And you are, too—after all, you are her mother, aren't you??"
But her mother smirked, "Why tell me I'm a mother when I'm playing better than a teen!! Honey!! She got this angelic look of mine, so she could sell for a pretty good price."
Her stepfather smirked and agreed, while Eira didn't know what was lurking between their thoughts.
Another door to hell opened.
Her stepfather knew a lot about underdog slave trade.
What he planned wasn't as bad as slave trade. It was way more devilish than it sounded, yet disguised as heaven.
He sold her to the very same church I grew up in—that hellish church. To be specific,to Father Athos. He wasn't that old at that age.
She was terrified; at the same time, she had a single thread-like hope streaming to the future she dreamed of.
What hurt her the most was that others had even crossed roads, succeeding in multiple things, while she had a thread barely holding on. If she moved recklessly, she would fall. If she sprinted toward her future fast, she would die. If she slowed down, the rope's external parts, slowly tearing apart, would snap.
The ladies lined up, welcomed her as a new sister. She learned how to become a 'NUN'. There is this sister who I personally hate as f*ck.She is pure evil. Her name is Darcy. She is so evil. She bullied her again and again. Not only her—even me.
Unlike other nuns, Darcy joined by her volition. No one forced her to do it.
The church isn't your typical holy church. It was a place where sin was created. Repentance was only for those who came to the church believing it was just a church.
Then finally, she grows up to do...
Her very first time...
It's been years... and now she is 15 years old.
So Athos, that worthless sl*t-loving *sshole old man, with a very holy title ingrained on his soul,
He took her v*rginity.