“Yawn…” The sheets rustle as I stretch and climb out of bed, pulling on my clothes. My footsteps echo through the dim hallway until I reach the Common Hall. “Good morning, ol’—” I trail off with a sigh.

Every morning, it’s the same. The old man, as I call him, sits there, his gaze distant and hollow. It’s not the typical weariness. His eyes, when they’re open, look… drained. As if he’s more shadow than man, somehow here and not like he’s dead.

I shake off the thought and turn away. Whatever haunts him, or drags him into that empty stare, isn’t my concern. He keeps it all to himself. Each time I try to ask, it’s like a mask drops over him—cold, guarded, like I’m staring at a stranger. It sends a chill down my spine, reminding me of just how dangerous he really is beneath that calm, quiet face.

Still, it’s hard not to feel a bit of sympathy. I owe him more than I can say; he saved me from a life I’d rather forget. If only he’d let me do the same for him.

Maybe, one day, he’ll let me in.

I decided to make breakfast, setting his portion aside to keep it warm in case he woke from…whatever it is he does. Sitting across from him at the table, I finished my meal, leaving only a cup of tea. He still hadn’t stirred.

“So, you’re just going to stay like that, huh?” I muttered, leaning over to poke his head. No response. “Well, I can’t just sit around doing nothing. We’re low on food, anyway, so I might as well do the shopping.”

Usually, we’d go together, though it was more him leading while I tagged along. He always had a specific route and timing whenever he went out, like there was some secret rhythm he followed. But today, with him out cold, I’d have to handle it alone.

I dressed in loose, flowing trousers that brushed my ankles, pairing them with a fitted top that hugged my arms and was woven with intricate patterns. Slipping on my short sandals, I strapped the bracelet he’d given me around my wrist—a piece he’d told me never to lose, though he hadn’t explained why. It was beautiful, but its importance was a mystery I hadn’t cracked.

Following the same paths and timing we always did, I stepped out, ready to weave through the crowded stalls on my own.

As I arrived at the market, the familiar sounds of bustling merchants and cheerful chatter faded into a distant hum. My heart beat calmly against my ribcage, but a knot twisted in my stomach. The air around me grew heavy, oppressive.

“Good day, sir!”

“Oh my, a young lady! How may I help you?”

“Well, first off, I’ll need this, that one, and a little bit of that.”

“I see… here’s your purchase, ma’am.”

“Thank you very much.”

“Please, come again.” The merchant smiled, and I smiled politely in return, my fingers brushing against the fresh produce I’d selected. It was a welcome distraction from the silence of the house, from the weight of Tauer’s stillness pressing down on me.

“This is nice,” I thought, appreciating the brief relief from my bleak surroundings.

But then, I felt it—an odd, prickling sensation creeping up my spine. At first, I brushed it off, attributing it to the noise of the crowd or the weight of the bags in my arms. But as I turned to navigate through the throng, I saw them. Two figures stood a short distance away, their backs turned. It was the way they moved, the way their laughter echoed, that sent a chill through my veins.

I recognized them instantly. Those faces.

THOSE SPAWNS OF HELL! BASTARDS!!!

I froze, a sense of panic ripping through me like a storm. “What are they doing here? How can they still be here? NO, NOT AGAIN! I can’t… not again!”

The memories came rushing back, thick with pain. A life torn from me, hope snatched away just as I thought I had found peace. I had been pulled from the clutches of suffering before, only for it to creep back in like a shadow. Without thinking, I turned to run, desperate to escape.

But then I collided with someone—one of their associates.

Thump!

“Huh… what’s this? Why don’t you watch where you’re going, lady?” The voice was gruff, mocking, sending terror through my veins. My legs went numb. I could barely breathe. The face of the man before me was already burned into my memory: a crooked nose, a wide, smug grin revealing too many teeth. His eyes, cold and calculating, locked onto mine, trapping me in this moment.

“Ohhh….., if it isn’t our favourite little ghost,” he sneered, his breath warm against my face, but the chill in his voice froze me where I stood.

He recognized me.

The realization hit me like a punch to the gut. He was the construct, the extension of my nightmares.

I attempted to sidestep him, but his hand shot out and grabbed my arm with an iron grip.

 “And where do you think you’re going? I haven’t seen you in ages. You’ve changed, but not enough for me to forget that pretty little face. And also… I haven’t forgotten the gift you left me the day you left.” He pointed at the scars on his face, and my stomach churned.

Panic surged within me. “Let go of me!” I gasped, my voice shaky, but his grip tightened as if savouring my fear. He seemed to revel in it.

“You think you can just disappear and hope to be free?” he growled, his voice a low, menacing whisper.

Without warning, he drove his knee into my stomach. Thump!

The breath left me in a sharp gasp, my vision spinning as pain bloomed in my core. I barely registered what happened next as he followed up with a brutal punch to my face. Squish!!

The impact echoed in my ears, sending agony through my jaw. Punch after punch, the world tilted, and I stumbled back, the crowd around us a distant blur. My ribcage pounded as dizziness threatened to pull me under. The metallic taste of blood flooded my mouth, mingling with the bitter tang of fear.

“Get up, little ghost!” he taunted, a sick smile creeping across his face as he stepped forward. I saw the delight in his eyes, the cruel pleasure he took in my suffering. He grabbed my hair and yanked me upright. “So… where is he?”

“Wha...what do you mean?” I mumbled through a mouthful of blood.

“Oh, playing dumb, are we? That’s alright. I mean, you’re back with us now, right? That’s a good thing.”

With a sickening crack, he slammed his head against mine, and my vision went dark.

Thud... drip, drip, drip...

I could barely stay conscious; my body numb from the pain and agony. The world spun, colours and sounds blending together into a disorienting blur. The man dragged me by my hair, forcing me to stumble after him, each step a jagged reminder of my helplessness.

“Keep moving, little ghost,” he murmured in my ear, his voice full of sadistic delight. “We wouldn’t want to keep the others waiting, would we?”

My thoughts were clouded by pain, the haze of my fading consciousness threatening to swallow me whole. He shoved me toward the back of a carriage, and the rough wood scraped against my skin as I was thrown inside.

“Tie her up,” he ordered. The ropes bit into my wrists, but all I could focus on was the feeling of the world slipping away from me.

It was dark and cold, but the memories... they didn’t leave. I had always hated them for what they did to me, even when I tried to bury it. The feelings still lingered, festering. I had always been a burden in their eyes, just another unwanted thing to discard.

I was an only child, but I was never cherished. My mother, bitter and resentful, looked at me as if I were a curse. A daily reminder of the life she had been forced to endure.

I learned early to stay quiet, to make myself small and unseen. I thought if I could be silent, still, perhaps I’d escape her wrath. But it never mattered. No matter how little I spoke, or how carefully I tiptoed around her, she found reasons.

Every slap, every harsh shove, each bruise on my arms and shoulders—they were gifts, she’d say.

“You’re nothing but a cursed burden, die” she’d hiss, face twisted with anger. “I never wanted you. You ruined my life.”

And my father? He was no better. When he came home, reeking of ale, he barely acknowledged my existence. To him, I was less than a shadow, something beneath his notice. A ghost he avoided as he collapsed into a stupor. I learned not to wait for him, not to hope he might lift me from my mother’s fury, for he never did.

Years of abuse, of pain, of silent endurance, maybe I was, in some twisted way, deserving of this. But it all shattered the day they sold me.

The memory was sharp, like broken glass cutting into my soul. My small hand, reaching for my mother’s, hoping just once she might pull me close. But instead, she shoved me forward, handing me over to the merchant like a broken doll.

She didn’t look back. Neither did my father.

In that moment, something inside me snapped. The fury, the hatred, it poured out like a flood, a savage, broken cry.

“You think you can just sell me off?!” I screamed, voice trembling with rage. “YOU THINK I’LL JUST DISAPPEAR AND MAKE THINGS EASIER FOR YOU?!” the words tumbled out of me, years of resentment and fury, raw and unrelenting.

 “I HOPE YOU ROT. I HOPE YOU CHOKE ON THE LIFE YOU’VE MADE FOR YOURSELVES AND FEEL EVERY OUNCE OF THE MISERY YOU PUT ME THROUGH!!!”

My mother’s eyes widened, but I barely noticed. “I was just a child! A child! And you made me wish I’d never been born! You’ll get what you wanted, won’t you? But don’t think I’m the one cursed here. No, you are. You’re cursed. Trapped in your own hell, surrounded by nothing but bitterness and hate.”

I fought against the merchant’s grip, snarling as I glared at my father, whose blank, drunken eyes watched me without a hint of emotion. “And you!” I spat, voice dripping with venom. “You were never a father. You filth, a hollow shell pretending to be human. You left me alone with her. Like a coward. I hope every drink burns your throat. I hope it eats you from the inside out”

Tears burned in my eyes, but I refused to let them fall. My voice grew hoarse as I screamed, raw with rage. “I’ll never forgive you! Never!”

The merchant pulled harder, but I fought him, kicking and clawing like a cornered animal. “I am not yours to throw away! You think selling me will rid you of me? I’ll be the ghost that haunts you, the nightmare you can never escape. I hope it kills you—slowly, painfully.”

As he dragged me away, my voice faltered into a broken, desperate whisper. “I hate you both. I hope you suffer every day for the rest of your miserable lives.”