Rapunzel kneels on the blood-soaked furs, her sobs echoing in the tower’s suffocating silence. Gio’s corpse lies in the dark corner, his broken ribcage a testament to her grief and rage. The moonlight carves the room into sharp contrasts—silver on the tattered tapestries, shadow on the jars of glowing herbs. The air is thick with lavender and rot, the scent of her hair now tainted by the coppery tang of blood. Her hands tremble, stained red, as she stares at the floorboards, their warped edges whispering secrets. Something snaps in her mind, a fracture widening, and she claws at the wood, ripping it apart piece by piece.

Splinters bite her fingers, but she doesn’t feel the pain. The floorboards groan, yielding to her frenzy, revealing a hollow beneath. Lavender petals spill out, their purple bruised and faded, tumbling like ash. The scent hits her, sharp and cloying, and the room tilts. She’s no longer here, no longer now. The tower fades, and she’s sixteen again, her world a cage of Gothel’s making.

The room is dim, lit only by a flickering candle. Rapunzel wakes to Gothel’s hand on her shoulder, shaking her harshly. Blood stains the sheets, warm and wet between her thighs, soaking her nightdress. Her eyes widen, confusion turning to shame as Gothel’s face twists in disgust. Crimson smears her crotch, glistening in the candlelight, and the air reeks of iron.

“How many times do I have to tell you to put a cloth on it, that abomination of yours?” Gothel snarls, her voice a blade. Her hand cracks across Rapunzel’s face, the slap sending her sprawling to the floor. Pain blooms, hot and sharp, her cheek throbbing.

“Mother, I read in the books—all women have it,” Rapunzel pleads, her voice small, innocent. “It’s normal—”

“I don’t have it!” Gothel roars, looming over her. “Am I less of a woman? Am I less of a human? That is an abomination you carry. It reeks of rot. Clean it up, or I’ll throw you out the window with it, you foul demon!”

Rapunzel’s lips tremble, tears spilling. “But Mother—”

Gothel grabs her hair, yanking it back until Rapunzel’s neck strains, her eyes forced upward. “You are a stupid little bitch,” Gothel hisses, her breath hot against Rapunzel’s face. “You will always be here to serve me, to play by my rules. I took care of you when that abomination of a father abandoned you to be eaten by wolves, when the king wanted your head. You are no princess—you are an abomination. At least I feed you. Do as I say. Immediately.”

She releases Rapunzel’s hair, and she collapses, sobbing. Gothel stalks to her bed, pulling the furs over herself. “Stop whimpering,” she snaps. “You’re disrupting my sleep. If I wake again and that blood is still there, you’ll see my true colors.”

Rapunzel bites her lip, stifling her cries. She stumbles to her feet, clutching the stained sheets, and moves to clean them. Her foot catches a loose floorboard, and she trips, her head slamming against the bed’s edge. A wound opens, blood trickling down her temple, warm and sticky. She screams, the sound raw, and Gothel wakes, her eyes blazing.

“What did I tell you?” Gothel roars, shoving Rapunzel’s face to the floor. Her boot presses against her head, grinding her cheek into the wood. “Why did you wake me?”

“I’m sorry, Mother!” Rapunzel gasps, fear choking her. “I accidentally fell!”

Gothel doesn’t listen. Her boot slams into Rapunzel’s ribs, the crack of bone echoing. Rapunzel groans, rolling away, but Gothel advances, kicking her face, her neck. Blood sprays from Rapunzel’s mouth, splattering the floor. “Mother, please, have mercy!” she begs, her voice breaking.

“I am no mother to an abomination!” Gothel snarls, her voice deepening, demonic. Her eyes glow a faint red, a hue Rapunzel knows from her books—demonic invocation, possession. Her mind reels, struggling to process, as Gothel grabs her foot, dragging her across the floor. She lifts her, slamming her against the wall with unnatural strength. “You are an abomination. I must kill you today. I can’t take your bullshit anymore!” Gothel’s laugh is a demonic cackle, chilling the air.

Rapunzel’s eyes dart to her golden hair, its strands moving slowly, as if alive. Gothel pulls a knife from her purse, its blade glinting. She lunges, and Rapunzel dodges, the knife slicing her nightdress near the shoulder, cutting a shallow gash. The second swing catches her left eye, the blade slicing through her pupil. Pain explodes, her vision in that eye gone, and she staggers back, clutching her face, screaming. Gothel grabs her hair, yanking her to her feet, and plunges the knife into her belly, ripping through the nightdress, digging four inches deep. Rapunzel’s shrill cry shakes the room.

“Please, Mother,” she gasps, blood pooling at her feet. Gothel throws her to the floor, pinning her head under her boot. She begins to cut Rapunzel’s hair, the knife sawing through the first strands. But a loose floorboard snags Gothel’s dress, halting her. She yanks at it, tearing the fabric, and Rapunzel seizes her chance. She scrambles toward the window, ready to jump, her blood-slick hands slipping on the ledge.

Gothel charges, but Rapunzel dodges, leaping onto the bed. She grabs a broken wine bottle, its jagged edge glinting, and points it at Gothel. “You wouldn’t dare,” Gothel sneers, stepping closer. Rapunzel swings, ripping Gothel’s dress. With each advance, the bottle tears more, until Gothel stands naked, her body exposed. She glances at the mirror across the room, and her reflection shifts—a demon, horned and eyeless, claws scraping the glass from within. It lunges, hitting the mirror’s surface, and the glass shatters, shards raining to the floor.

“I’m free!” Gothel cries, her voice human again, trembling with relief. “After sixteen years…” She turns to Rapunzel, crumpled and bleeding, and softens. “Oh, poor thing, I wasn’t in my right mind when I—”

Rapunzel looks up, her one good eye glowing faintly red. The demon’s presence radiates from her, her wounds knitting as she rises, her movements fluid, unnatural. “Mother,” she says, her voice demonic, layered with malice, “you know the demon only controls the mind. You had the power to stop it. Why didn’t you?” She advances, her hair coiling like serpents, the tower trembling with her