Mean Girls

SHe listened to the banter between mother and child, it sounded almost innocent without the context. It was a hundred worlds away from what it would have been like, had it been in Abaven. She remembered Noir getting punished, of being constantly watched by an adult, with no chance to make mischief. So different from the gentle dismal Deathbelle gave her daughter as she sent her on her way. Perhaps it wasn’t just because they were cruel, perhaps slaves meant she was barely even a person to the eyes of the wolves here.

She let Deathbelle lead her into the den, settling down on the floor when Deathbelle moved away to grab what she needed. The slave girl sunk to the floor, breathing soft, deep breaths to keep herself from panicking. She wanted to go home, she wanted home, home, home. She wanted Epitaph and mummy, and puppa, and Poem and Canni. She wanted to be surrounded by love again. “Miss Deathbelle, I don’t understand, why did she attack me?” she whispered, curious if Deathbelle would give her a straight answer, wondering if she even wanted to hear that answer at all.