That night when Lucy died, the Lunarilla flowers withered too.
A night of a blood moon eclipse — "...the moon dressed in red, the night when monsters rose from the sleep of death... That night was the death of the Lunarilla flowers..." The night Lucy died. Lucy loved this sentence from The Memoirs of Flowers, and in the end, like those beautiful flowers, she withered on that red night.
Lucy was my only friend during all these seven years of my life. She always treated me like a human being—not a tool, not a slave, not a monster.
I don't remember my parents. I only know the night I was born was their last night too. Like Lucy, they died under the bloody light of the cruel red moon. Everyone blamed me for their deaths; as always, I was the one at fault.
I have no name because no one survived to name me. Wherever I went, people died. Lucy, my parents, Father Joseph who took me in at the church, Anne Marry who taught me to read and write, John who always saved me a dry piece of bread… even those who hurt me, beat me, enslaved me… all of them died, one by one.
But all those who watched me from afar and survived—witches and sorcerers, fortune tellers and seers, servants and workers, the poor and orphans—gave this pale, miserable girl a name and a place worthy of my loathsome existence: Keres, the cursed girl.
This name was actually quite respectful! Because most people didn't even bother calling me by my given name. I was always addressed with "hey" or "rat" and other insults. I still remember... in the new orphanage I lived in, they called me "insect"; that was until I was sent as a servant to the Elton mansion—or rather, as a slave.
There, at least being called "servant" meant being treated somewhat like a person.
It wasn't my first time as a maid, but this time was very different. Mr. and Mrs. Elton were nobles of Shirley, known to be arrogant and sometimes cruel—especially toward common folk. Everyone spoke of them with hatred, but at first, I didn't care; it was just rumors. But only at first.
Before entering there, I was so happy I could hardly contain myself! Despite all the rumors, I was willing to go there at any cost, because even prison seemed better than the orphanage.
But after what happened, a strange fear rooted itself inside me, growing stronger with every beating.
That fear was strange because it made me fight for survival, even though I hated living. I remember one day Mrs. Martin—Mrs. Elton's maid—whipped me so hard that blood came out of my mouth, and I didn't even try to stop her. No begging, no pleading… only silence, because I knew… I knew this pain and torment were a just punishment, a punishment I deserved for my existence and for the lives I had taken.
Suddenly, a beautiful girl shouted firmly: "Stop!"
I watched her from the ground. The girl standing before me looked like a tall mountain, steady and strong, protecting me from the storm. She was none other than Lucy Elton, the only daughter of the family and the jewel of every gathering. And that's when the first spark of friendship between us was lit.
She was one of the few whose heart I found as beautiful as her face. She was the first to play tag with me, the first time I played with dolls was with her. She was the first to bring me sweets and secretly visit my room at night so we could play.
Although she was a noble, she didn't act like the other rich kids. She was kind and composed, to everyone. A little scared and sensitive, but never cowardly or whiny. Beneath her calm exterior, she was a little rebellious and always looking for a way to escape the mansion—just like me.
But unlike me, she had no escape. Her fate was already sealed—marriage to a selfish nobleman fifteen years her senior.
That's when I understood how ridiculous the dream of nobility was—one many ordinary people chased after. Why would anyone give up their freedom for money?
When we were together, it didn't matter who was servant and who was noble—we were happy, we had someone to share our sadness with, so did our social classes really matter? We were no different except for our faces and lifestyles, and we saw no reason to end our friendship.
But on the evening of the last summer day, Mrs. Elton and Mrs. Martin came to me, beating me repeatedly and saying I had to stay away from her. I still remember Mrs. Elton's words: "You're a filthy rat… no! A tool! Your only purpose is to serve the Elton family! How dare you show your dirty being to my daughter?!!How dare you mere commoner spend time with my precious jewel??! Do you know what happens to old and broken tools? They get thrown away like trash!"
Lucy gave me hope for the first time—that as long as you are with those you love, it doesn't matter how different you are. But I didn't want anyone in that mansion to know I was cursed. I didn't want Lucy to look at me with fear. For the first time in my life, I wanted to be selfish—I wanted to stay close to her a little longer.
I knew I only brought her trouble and a curse. So I made my decision. The only thing I could do for her was to keep my distance. That way, I could still be near her. It was the only way… the only way I could protect her and satisfy my selfishness.
So I pushed her away, though she didn't deserve it. I convinced her I hated her—that she was just another disgusting noble.
But I failed. My heart won over my mind, and the result was death.
Since that night, the image of Lucy's bloody clothes and hair hasn't left my mind, torn apart by that monster. My room smelled of blood—it smelled of death. I think even the bugs I brought into the room died from the scent of death that surrounded me.
That monster, with a growl filled with pleasure from hunting its prey, looked at me. We locked eyes. Its breath was foul, and its red eyes with black irises stared deep into me. Its pupils narrowed as if trying to discover something inside me.
Then came the explosion sound, and the monster and I were thrown out of the burning building. When I came to y senses, I found myself outside the burning mansion. All the servants were running out quickly, covering their ears from the loud cries and whines of the monsters. My vision blurred, and only those screams and terrifying howls echoed in my ears. Then everything... faded away.
When I woke up, I was lying on a dry wooden plank. A white bandage was wrapped around my head, and my hands were bruised and burned. Looking closely, I realized where I was—the village mill. I tried to get up, but suddenly I noticed something—I was tied to the plank with ropes.
I was scared. So scared. When I wanted to scream, I realized my throat was burning with pain.
Suddenly the door burst open. Mr. Maurice, the village doctor, was trying to stop someone. I looked carefully… "Mrs. Elton?!"
Mrs. Elton ran quickly towards me and grabbed my throat, screaming, "Monster!! Dirty monster, you're cursed! You killed my daughter! You destroyed my family! Murderer!!"
In those painful moments, everything went dark for a moment… I was terrified, trying with my small, weak hands to push her away. I wanted to scream and ask for help, I wanted to run, I wanted to chase away the darkness.
Slowly my hands weakened, pain faded, and absolute darkness returned with its crushing silence. As always, I was surrounded—fighting something invisible, something that consumed everything. The darkness gnawed at me like a parasite, and I could do nothing.
I was weak, defenseless, with no reason to fight for life.
But now that I think about it, I see that if the darkness hadn't come, maybe I wouldn't have resisted Mrs. Elton's attack—because I had long wished to die…
But it was then that, for the first time, I asked myself: Is everything dark after death?