Rebel Girl, Vicious King

sia'

ng day. Not mine, but the day I gave up my own dreams to save my little sister, Livia. I sit in th

n the dim light of the reception hall. I could feel the cold sweat on my arms as he m

ng with a fierce, unyielding fire. I nodded, but inside, my heart was a

ound cut through me like a knife. I forced a smile as I walked down the ai

he priest as he guided

n the room. I wanted to scream, to tell them I did not want this life, but my voice was gone. I gave

unded in my chest like a trapped bird. I stared at the faded mirror, my reflection a ghost of the gir

ia, come here," he said in a low tone

were dark and hard. "That ache? That

eyes speak. "Yes," I finally said

voice. And you gave up your freedom." His words sank deep. I knew I ha

y step felt like a memory. I paused by the window, watching the rain blur the garden outside. I co

ra in the small dining room.

id softly. "Is it the same hea

so much for Livia, Aunt Mara

ake sacrifices. Some wounds take a long time to

l nod, but the p

g the silent tables and chairs, the ghost of that day echoing in every corner. In

ce cracking. "I was your hope, your s

ut in anger at the life that had stolen my voice, my dreams. B

a little cafe on a rainy afternoon. The cafe was warm

y," I said, stirring

? Or just lost? You gave up so much, Alessia. But you st

p my chance to speak my mind

oment, but you can find it again. You can speak with your actions, with your hea

ng a spark of hope. "D

"I know so. Just listen to your he

ad of darkness, I stood on the balcony of our old house. The night air was

l find my way back. I will find my voice again, even

it made my heart ache. But then a sharp knock at the

ed, trying to stead

replied, "It

s filled with concern. "Alessia, you look tired. Please

. He led me to a small room I rarely used-a room fi

h the pages, my eyes catching on images of my younger self, smiling, c

we dreamed togeth

essia. Sometimes, we sacrifice one for ano

owly. "I fear I have

But sometimes, loss is the start of a

n the aisle. I recalled the faces in the crowd-pity, admiration, and something darker. I recalled the sound of my father's voic

ll journal I kept hidden. I scribbled short, choppy lin

ked a

pe die i

my voice

speak aga

. I didn't wipe it away. It felt real,

ices. I saw myself standing in the middle, a lone figure surrounded by shadows. I turned and saw Livia standing on the other

by the bed. My heart raced, and I sat up, trying to catch my breath. The dream felt like a

sharp, laced with anger and urgency. I knew I could not hide from him forev

he window, arms crossed, staring out int

at me. His voice left no room for protest.

amily," he said. "And I expe

roat tight. "Yes, Fath

u made this sacrifice, Alessia. You did it for Livia. Never forget that.

x of anger and sorrow. As I walked away, I could

and dining room, the table set with lavish dishes and silverware that gleamed under t

a hushed tone. "Alessia, you look

felt hollow. "It is nothin

someone. You have given up so m

ed my eyes to my plate. "I must do

aughter. Yet every word felt like a reminder of my sacrifice. I could feel the eyes

rmur of voices filled the room, but my thoug

was dark, the only light from the moon casting eerie shadows.

r, Livia, emerging from the darkness. Her eyes were bright, but

spered, "I am scar

everything for you. I did this so you could hav

ost? I see the pain in you. I fe

lump in my throat. "I did not choose this

e you did. Maybe you had

more than my choice. I lost a part of me that

on't want this life, Alessia. I want

en we must find a way, Livia. I promise you, I will fight

whispered, "I believe in y

a distant memory-it was alive in every silent moment, every regretful tear. I turned over and closed my

d my father's stern words. I remembered the silent vows and the broken

find a way to reclaim my voice, my dreams. I would fight for Livia, for us both. E

lowly, each piece of clothing a reminder of the role I had been forced to play. As I tied my hair back,

essia, are you ready?" It was Ma

g in his hand. "I know you have much to do today," he

in a sunlit garden. I stared at the image, and tears welled u

f this happened. Remember your smile, Alessia. Hol

warmth spread through my cold heart. "I will try,"

new journey. One that may be da

Thank you, Marco. I need a

shadows. Every step, every whispered word in the corridors of our home reminded me of my sacrifice.

faded letters. I sat at a large oak table, the silence around me deep and solemn. I picked up a letter addr

f hope, of dreams that once burned bright. It told me to never lose sight of who I was. "Find your

that I would not let my sacrifice be in vain. I would find a way to reclaim my lost voice

at by the window, watching the rain pour down in heavy sheets. Each drop felt like a tiny hammer,

nswer it. Standing on the porch was a stranger, clad in a dark coat and a hat pulled low o

?" I asked,

"I am here to help, Alessia. I know of your pain,

do you know my n

ed, about why you had to give up so much. But know this: the past is not set in stone. The sacrifice you mad

more questions than answers. I stood there, my mind racing, a chill running down

followed was deafening. I knew one thing for sure: my journey was just beginning, and

whispered to the empty hall. "S

st step into a future that promised both danger and hope-a fut

me of that fateful day. Yet there was a growing ember within me, a quiet determination that began to push against the darkness. I found solace in small acts

at the old stone fountain, Livia joined me. She sat beside me withou

, "Alessia, do you ever wonder

earching hers. "Every day,

he pain in your eyes, even when you try to hide it. I wish you

be more than the sacrifice. I want to be a fighter. I

ight for us both. Fight until you reclaim eve

irred something deep inside me. I knew th

in a raw, unfiltered stream. I wrote about my fear, my regret, and my desperate hope. I wrote about that day-the cold, sterile hall, the empty vows,

ll sides. And as I wrote, I felt a small shift within me. The pain was still

h truths, and relentless enemies. But I also knew that I could not let the sacrifice I made define me fore

vow to myself: No matter how dark the road ahead, I would not be a p

Alessia-a woman broken by sacrifice yet driven by the promise of a future reclaimed. My journey had only just begun, and with each

rifice. But I also knew that within me lay a power I had yet to tap-a power that coul

o be silenced. And as I walk this dark path, I hold on to one truth: the sacrifice I made was not the end

d I will never forget the night I lost everyth