Chapter two

Gillian throughout her first year of being an infant had learnt to rock herself, not a violent or shock ridden one, but a slow rhythmic rock, like a rowboat on a lake. The rock would not be visible at first, till one took a closer look, it was subtle. But when Gillian felt the all consuming fear, that was when the rocking looked more like a huddled shaken creature in the corner as a best swiped up into its jaws. 

it calmed and soothed her small heart whenever she felt the sieze of terror run cold through her viens. The light sway of her body, going back and forth, lulled the worry away and sent her to slumber. It was a spell, a spell she prayed that would never fail to work.

It was not often at first when Gillian began to rock herself. It was almost an instinctual thing, she did not realize her own body did such a movement, till a maid made a snide comment about it. Perhaps it was because her nanny Lita never held her unless necessary, it seemed she detested touching as she called the 'dirt blood'. The only consoling presence Gillian had was her mother, who rarely was about when Gillian needed her the most. 

Lita would abandon the infant during most nights, leaving her alone in the dark. She feared the dark, the blackness held shadows and figures that would torment Gillian. A simple drape would look like the silhouette of her sister from her past life. Perfect. Still. She'd stand there watching Gillian with a smirk, sometimes the wind itself outside would sound like the giggles and cackles of the court ladies, mirroring the ones she heard when she was first dragged in front of the court, sentenced to prison. They laughed and smiled when the guards forced her away, as she pleaded with the king for mercy. The shock of it all had Gillian show for the first time in front of others weakness. To beg so helplessly, in front of all those high lords and ladies, just as she had watched many others before who had wronged the king or others. It was laughable to her that she had gone through such a fate. No one, not even her mother had said a word on her behalf in court. Thinking of it made Gillian wish that instead of spending so much time scheming against those who mocked her, she should have gone and made friends. Maybe then someone would have said a kind word about her. 

That thought would make Gillian's tiny brows furrow close to her eyes. If her mother was not willing to say something to the king, to save her own first born, then why would a friend of all people speak for her. They wouldn't. That was what made Gillian sure that spending her time alone was wise, clearly no one could have been trusted. 

The nights were long and cold at times, that it sent shivers down Gillian's small spine, the quiet creaking of floor boards keeping her on guard. Creaking could mean that small feet could be sneaking their way to Gillian's room. She'd try to sleep, to ignore the pounding of her heart. Sealing her eyes shut. Clamping her lips close. But no matter how hard she tried to be silent, the sound of the opening door would still reach her ears. She'd roll away praying that it was only Lita. But when a child's hand griped tightly onto Gillian's back, she knew there would be no peace that night. 

The fingers would dig and claw into Gillian's soft, tender flesh. She'd whimper quietly, holding her mouth closed. Then the shaking would begin. A violent, harsh thrashing, trying to wake the baby. 

"Wake up," an impatient voice said, "wake up." Gillian felt the pinch of skin, her body turning around, forced to face upward to her tormentor. Thomas gazing down was an eerie sight. "Wake up, wake up, wake up." He'd repeat. "Cry, you stupid brain dead twit." 

His hands would twist her plump limbs, till they were red turning a shade of purple and blue. Pins and needles prickling along the numb limbs he twisted. Gillian's face scrunched up, but she'd stay quiet, a reaction would only make him worse. She had cried once, a small tumble of a sound. That had made him bold, in the most terrifying and extreme things he did, he'd strung his hands neatly around her throat and squeezed, he laughed, he was excited by the sight of her red face, and the feel of her windpipes. 

When Thomas would eventually grow bored and leave. Gillian left bruised, painfully curling into herself waiting for morning. Rocking, and rocking her body willing the tears not to fall. 

It took longer than normal for Gillian to learn to walk, her silence only worried her mother more. The lord could not ignore his beloved's concerns and a physician was sent for. Lita was not too pleased, and the lord and Gillian's mother stood presiding as the physician worked. Lita made no snide comments, whilst the lord and her mother was about, she only glared at the infant. Before anyone had entered Gillians nursery, she'd whispered nastily, "Ya're wastin' the good lords time, and money, 'e shouldn't be sendin' doctors for 'alf blood brats too dumb to make a sound." 

The physician was shocked to find the bruising and inflammation all over the poor Gillians body, there were even cuts. The physician was gentle and kind to Gillian, inways she had forgotten adults could be with children, he was the first person other than her mother to treat her kindly. He held her in his arms with ease, he did not like her lightness, nor the dark bags under her eyes and paling of her skin. His fingers rubbed circles on her cheeks. The tenderness of it all made her smile, a smile she saved only for her mother. He lifted a finger above her eyes, swinging it back and forth, Gillians eyes followed. He grinned, placing her back into her cot. 

Her mother and the lord had watched silently the inter time, her mother anxiously waiting, ringing her hands together. 

"She is highly underweight, malnourished, suffering from exhaustion, as well from abuse." The man stared grimly at Gillian's parents. The physician was impressed with the lord, he knew of course how much he cared for those in his service, but to have him come to look at a servant's child and pay for such a check up was not the way he was taught nobility would be to those of lower station. 

He found the infant interesting, she observed keenly to everything around her, her eyes held something, he could not put his finger on. It was as if she understood more than she ought to. 

"Who has been caring for this child, if at all?" Gillian winced, so it was clear that she was not cared for by anyone in the lord's house. She hated the look her mother wore, she was close to tears, avoiding the sight of Gillian's cot, looking away to the floor in shame. 

"I wish not to offend,” the physician hastily added, “but she is quite neglected. My lord, I'd advise you to hire a nanny. I am sure the rest of the servants would appreciate someone looking after their children as they work, or perhaps leaving her in care of one of the village's wet nurses. 

“Even if the child belongs to a servant, it is wrong to leave a child in such a way, they should be held accountable, and it would only reflect badly on you, my lord, if anyone were to find out.” he paused a determined look plastered of his face as he gazed over at Gillians cot. “But if her parents are not able to look after their own child, then i ask permission my lord, to take the child in myself." 

Gillian felt a change in the air after the physician spoke his words. The lord's eyes hardened, his purple irises darkening. There was a buzz that swarmed around him, Gillian could hear it as clear as day. She thought for a moment a bee must've gotten in, but it was winter and there was no way for a bee to get in. Gillian's mother placed a hand on the lord's shoulder, the buzzing dimmed into a hushed hum. 

"My husband and I have been wanting a child for a while. If this child is unwanted then I shall provide a home for her." 

The lord's jaw clicked, "I'll not sell you our daughter, and if you wish to still be employed by me, you will not speak a breath of this to any. The child will be cared for-" his eyes drifted for a second to Lita, "-i shall make sure of it." It was a threat to the nursemaid, a threat that had her begin to tremble. 

The doctor's eyes widened at the news, could that infant really be the lord's love child? He had heard the rumors that she was slow to develop. He gulped, not saying a word, he regretfully looked at Gillian one last time, sad he would not be bringing home a baby and left. 

Gillian's mother rushed to her daughter, lifting her in her arms. "My poor baby," she sobbed, "how could i not know?" 

The lord slowly stepped to Lita, her eyes casted down to the ground. She gulped, her shoulders shaking. Her knees felt weak, she dared not gaze up, to see the pulsing magic set alight in his purple eyes. His feet came to a halt before her, the nicely fitted leaver shoes imported from the capital, gleamed with a polish. Her lips grimaced in a line, just when she was about to speak up to her lord, a hand wiping across her face stopped her. He slapped her, strongly, a red hand printed on her cheek. Lita stumbled back. Her eyes were wide, she looked up at the lord. "You are excused from my service. Leave now." He stepped aside. 

His tone left no room for argument. Mutely Lita left, her fists balled at her side. She sent a glare at Gillian, her face pressed against her mothers breasts. 

Later a young girl was sent to look after Gillian, she was four and ten years old, ill experienced in working at the lord's manor. The girl had previously been a scullery maid, an orphan with an elder brother who too worked at the manor. It was clear to Gillan that the housekeeper did not wish to spend any effort on looking for a person suitable to care for Gillian. 

The girl was kind and sweet to Gillian, but she too realized the disadvantage of being the lord's illegitimate daughter's careminder. The other servants snubbed her if they were not the ones under Gillian's mothers, Abbygales authority. The mistress of the manor, Lady Regenia made sure to make those know who was the real wife of the lord. But the girl was cheerful, she cherished Gillian like she were her own younger sister, not allowing the snide remarks of the other servants or the harsh and cruel behavior towards her to affect her sunny personality. 

By Gillian's third and fourth year, just as the servants were beginning to be more bold towards Cat, Gillian's handmaid, in their horrid acts. They also began to do so openly towards Gillian, when they could without the lord knowing of course. Scraps and leftovers were Gillian's meals if she was lucky to be spared any if she wasn't dining with her parents. 

Dining with her parents was another affair upon itself, it was rare for Gillian to see the face of her father, who gazed at her with disinterest. If he were not busy dealing with business matters then he certainly was off busy somewhere with Gillian's mother Abbygale, both too absorbed with one another to see how the lord's true wife Regina treated their forgotten daughter. 

The housekeeper, keeping in mind the attitude of lady Regina towards Gillian, did not do the same as she did for Charlotte and Thomas, for Gillian. They were treated like royalty in Gillian's eyes, Lady Regina and the housekeeper would shower the two with gifts and expensive garments, sent straight from the best merchants from the capital. Charlotte had even a personal seamstress who made gowns from the finest of fabrics along with a jeweler and a cobbler, whilst Gillian had simple gowns made from more plain fabrics if she were lucky to have a new gown made, otherwise it would dresses and gowns Charlotte had damaged or were far too out of fashion for her to dare wear in public. 

Gillian's gowns were so dismal in comparison that guests sometimes had thought Gillian to be a child of a maid, which all too pleased Lady Regina, she would embarrass her further by telling guests that Gillian preferred the dresses and denied any of the finer quality, making her seem ungrateful and stupid. 

As for education, the lady of the house wasted no expense for her children. A countess, a friend of lady Regina was Charlotte's and Gillian's tutor in most things, having been a member of court for a good few years and a relation to a duke, she was an expert in etiquette. She was a beauty with the grace and pose one would expect from her station, she was a stern teacher, but kind, though only to Charlotte, praised for her acute disposition for such lessons. A natural in all things. Gillian was already well adept in etiquette, it was second nature to her. But she found no matter how perfect she performed in front of the countess she'd still be spat at harshly, finding fault from the tiniest of things. Each time the lesson came to an end, Gillian returned to her room with bleeding palms, from being whipped with the countess's cane. 

When Gillian was six the countess began to impede harsher punishments, she would be whipped on her rear and legs, and be made to study for hours in a small cupboard sized room with no light.

Gillian had tried to tell her mother about all the harm caused to her, but each time faced with the deliriously happy face of her mother, halted her words. She loved Gillian with all her heart, she would be devastated if she knew what she was doing to Gillian. It was then that Gillian would think of her half sister from before, each time she saw her with her family she smiled and laughed as if the things Gillian did hadn't affected her, not saying a word to her parents. Gillian had hated it, but now she understood, one point of sunshine in her life, was her mother, telling her would only bring clouds in, thunder and lightning eginiting at fact of everything. She couldn’t do it, she wouldn’t burden her mother with that. No Gillian knew she deserved it, it was her punishment. Everything she had done and worse, was what she was living, she was no innocent being unjustly abused. It was hell, but hell she had inflicted on countless others. Had she really thought this was fun? Had she really seen no wrong with it? 

From that moment Gillian lived her life embracing her torment. She was a damned soul and with each year she would joungry to a new circle of hell, learn what it was to be one of her victims.