I woke to a bloodstained bed covered with the fresh blood that trickled from my arm, side, and various other wounds. I rolled out of bed (literally) and fell on the floor just laying there a minute accustoming myself to the sharp pains lancing through my body before struggling to my feet . I stumbled out of my room into my private little bathroom the size of a broom closet. I hauled myself into the shower and turned the water on full blast letting it soak my hair and wash away at the cuts all over. Though it stung I struggled through it knowing that under the burning hot water I had turned on, any marks would fade leaving no scars at all. That meant no evidence to go with any blood they managed to find.
When the scars were nothing more than harmless looking scratch marks I stepped out of the shower onto the soft towel I had laid down on the floor outside. As I used my towel to mop away the little water droplets that had beaded up on my skin I though absently about how I was perfect for this life. Of course I hated being trapped in the world of the Fey, but I knew that I had been made perfectly for it. I didn’t start crying simply if I got dirty like other girls my age, I was good at dealing with pain, able to stand whatever tricks They threw my way, and most importantly I knew how to find that place where I didn’t bow down and worship my tormenters begging Them to set me free but I was not the kind to be completely stubborn and infuriate Them. And then there were the little things, like not being claustrophobic so I could cram myself in that bathroom every day, and the fact that I wasn’t sensitive enough that I could sleep without PJs so I didn’t have to clean them every day of my blood. The sheets were bad enough but cleaning my nightclothes every day would arouse even more suspicion.
I finished drying myself off and reached over to my clothes. Many people thought I was some supernatural creature and tended to avoid me as much as they could. Maybe it was because I spent so much time in Fey but I did act a lot different. For one I had started the practice of dressing in a Fey like fashion. Some Fey loved colors, bright and beautiful showing off so that everyone saw them while others preferred dark colors blacks grays and whites. The dark and dull colors had seemed to depressing so now as I dressed I pulled on a soft spring green blouse gathered at the shoulders and a flowing skirt that swept down to my ankles that was a beautiful mix of light pink lavender baby blue and sunshine yellow. My slippers were a few shades darker green than my blouse and comfortable silk. I gathered my golden hair upon my head in a bun, and worked some golden bangles onto my wrists and a golden necklace with an emerald set in the middle. Sometimes I wondered if some gypsies had lived in the Fey as well for I certainly looked like one.
I twirled out of my bathroom gathering my sheets in my arms. I darted out into the hallway and slipped into the laundry room letting my sheets fall into the wash. Tiptoeing out into the hall again I pondered why exactly I was caught in Fey. From my research I had found out that They loved anything beautiful and according to a group of giggling sprites I had interrogated once, I more than qualified. They had told me that everyone was after me since I had hair the color of sunlight and eyes so emerald green that they were one with Earth, I was small, petite by nature, and I had a voice to challenge that of the nighten gale. They had told me that I was up for grabs and there were to many trying to grab, that even the faeries were competing for me. Funny how I was wanted by millions of supernatural beings in a parallel universe when here on earth my peers argued over who had to have me on their team.
Grabbing a granola bar as I swept past the kitchen I slung my bag over my shoulder with the other hand. This was going to be another very long day and I had a felling it was going to be worse then most. And that was worrisome mostly because these feelings were never ever wrong.
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