Crimson Lily

The biting words echo in your ears, a familiar, painful rejection. Your brother’s voice, sharp and cold, severs the last thread of hope you clung to.

Staggering back, you feel the sting of unwantedness seep into your bones. They’ve always treated you differently, like an intruder in their opulent world. Even the servants mirror their disdain.

The garden’s chill offers a strange solace. You gaze at the lake, its surface shimmering like a cruel mirror reflecting your solitary existence. Your mother… the lake reminds you of her.

A desperate thought takes root. What if you joined her? The icy water beckons. Without conscious will, your feet carry you closer. A splash, and the cold embraces you, pulling you into the depths. This feels better than the suffocating life you leave behind.

But as consciousness fades, flashes of another life intrude – a life of struggle, cut short. And then, a voice, soothing and insistent: “It’s not yet your time, my lady.” A burning sensation, and darkness. You wake in your familiar bedroom, sore and confused, faced with unfamiliar concern from the staff.