Damn cursed girl
Selene POV
The sun’s rays warmed my face, dragging me from the thin threads of sleep. I blinked against the light and turned my head toward the wall clock. Past seven.
Damn.
I threw off my blanket, stripped off yesterday’s dress, and pulled on my uniform. The fabric was rough against my skin as I snatched my cleaning rags and brushes, my bare feet hitting the cold stone floor.
The corridor reeked faintly of damp stone and wood polish. Slaves moved past me with quick, silent steps, their eyes skittering away—or, worse, lingering on me with that familiar mix of fear and contempt. I felt their stares even when they thought I wasn’t looking. Heard their whispers when they thought I couldn’t hear.
Damn cursed girl.
I hated that name more than I hated hunger. More than I hated the bruises I sometimes carried. The curse had clung to me from the moment I entered this world—born under the blood moon, with hair the color of fresh-spilled wine. The midwife had taken one look at me and declared me marked, promised to the gods. A sacrifice.
A monster.
I shoved the thought aside and bent to my work, scrubbing the marble floor until my fingers ached.
“Useless creature.”
The words sliced through the air like a blade. I didn’t need to turn to know the voice belonged to Aliya—her lips always pinched, her eyes cold enough to freeze water.
“Try not to stain the floor with your filthy hands,” she added, her voice dripping with mockery.
I bit my tongue, tightened my grip on the brush, and scrubbed harder. My arm burned. Then—sudden shock—cold water splashed over me. Laughter burst from Aliya and her flock.
I sat back, water streaming down my face, my clothes plastered to my skin. Tears pricked at my eyes, but I held them back. My fingers trembled—not from cold, but from the urge to claw the smirk off her face. But I didn’t. One day, I promised myself. One day they’d choke on my name.
“Selene!”
The voice was low, urgent. I turned to see Luke hurrying toward me, his straw-blond curls messy, his gray eyes far too old for his young face.
“Are you okay?” he asked, crouching beside me.
I nodded.
“You bitch,” Aliya muttered, tossing a rag at us before stalking away.
I leaned against the wall, squeezing water from my uniform. Luke hesitated, then dug into his pocket and pulled out a small hunk of bread, rough and stale.
“I’m sorry I didn’t step in sooner,” he whispered.
“You shouldn’t have to,” I murmured, my eyes flicking to the bread. “Who’s that for?”
“You. You haven’t eaten yet.”
“Luke, you shouldn’t—”
“Eat,” he ordered, pressing it into my hand. His fingers were warm against my cold skin. “You’ll need your strength.”
I studied his face. Most avoided me as if my curse were contagious—but not Luke.
“Thank you,” I whispered, taking a bite. The bread was hard, but it warmed me more than any fire. “Still… my strength doesn’t matter. I’m meant to be a sacrifice.”
“Don’t say that,” he said sharply. “Your life has meaning, Selene. Don’t let them decide who you are.”
I wanted to believe him. But hope was dangerous. I’d learned that long ago.
“You should go,” I said, rising to my feet. “If Leonor sees you here, we’ll both pay for it.”
He gave me a faint smile. “If you need me, just ask.”
By sunset, every muscle in my body ached. Sweat clung to me like another layer of skin. I stumbled back to my small room, grateful to finally wash. The water was icy, but it swept away the day’s grime.
I’d barely begun to dress when a sharp knock rattled my door. I opened it to find Leonor—the old witch herself—scowling at me.
“You skipped dinner again?” she barked, shoving my hair back.
“Ow! I was getting dressed—”
“What, you think you’re a princess?” Her grip tightened on my hair. “The kitchen doesn’t wait for you. You eat when you’re told, or you don’t eat at all.”
The rule was simple: miss mealtime, go hungry. And hunger was a punishment that gnawed from the inside out.
“Sorry,” I muttered.
Her eyes narrowed before she finally released me.
As she shuffled away, I rubbed my scalp and thought—not for the first time—One day I’ll be gone from here. And when I am, no one will ever lay a hand on me again.
I hurried to the kitchen before Leonor found another excuse to pick at me. Inside, the air was thick with the scent of boiling meat and stale bread. I took my usual seat at the far end of the table, where a chipped bowl of stew waited.
I ate quickly, head down, swallowing before I could even taste it. The others talked in low murmurs. None of them spoke to me. That was nothing new.
When the last spoonful was gone, I retreated to my room and shut the door. The silence pressed in.
“This day is too heavy,” I whispered to myself. “But you can do this, Selene. You can’t give up. You have to be strong. You have to be brave.”
I drew in a deep breath, holding onto that thought as if it were the only thing keeping me alive.