The luna's misery

o

hose tiny legs of yours?" Helen

ain. I cursed u

stuttered, my hand shaking

choed, making me realize Helen was never alone. She and her frie

d. They alw

nts died with her tongue," Helen chuckled. The sound of her cruel vo

s' death was always their favorite weapon. My precious uncle had told me the story again and a

silver sword that no one knew where it came from. According to Uncle, all the rogues had been ki

mate bond, she returned when she felt my father's pain. She ran back i

at bond. I

it, I lost

kept running, maybe I would have had someone to fight for me now.

nything. I was six when it happened. I should know their

cle Johnson would te

d amnesia. The trauma

mptiness, and wit

ean her floor five times a day, screaming if she finds even one speck of dust. She steals everything Uncle gives me clothes

quiet. What

sees my swollen eyes. I call him precious uncle because he is the o

giving me these swollen eyes? How do I e

sniff. He insists I call him that, though at fi

ng with hatred. "Are you dumb, you

med into my head b

warm trickled down my forehead and dripped ont

oo

blood," I cried out,

eakling bleeds like a slaughtered pig," Helen mocked. H

n but my legs felt nailed to the floor. My heart poun

muttered. "She does

was useless. They were stronger, faster, crueler. An

uld remember even one moment with them, one hug, one word, something to hold on to. Bu

g close to my ear. Her breath was hot and sour. "Maybe

ut deeper t

t her, to curse her, to tell her she would pay on

I noticed something at th

had

eart stopped. Uncle Johnson? Was he here

re was gone. Maybe my e

ould think, my

faded into whispers. My blood smeared

ness swallowed me, I heard something

at she is. Uncle would ki

h

id tha

o form words, b

dragged