IT'D been her home for eight years, and yet, gazing upon it always gave her this sense of dread that caused her muscles to scream at her to flee. As Vihaan struck the door with his dark-skinned knuckles, the young girl marvelled at the juxtaposition of the house’s grandeur and her own internal turmoil. Elegant and refined upon extensive grounds landscaped with lush gardens, manicured lawns, and winding pathways, all grey bricks and tall and wide glass panels for windows, it stood prominently imposing among the neighbouring residences smaller in stature.

Although her adoptive mother was often dissatisfied with the house’s size in comparison to the vast abodes of other puissant women, the girl always adored the way it looked, particularly during the nighttime when the illuminated interior transformed the structure into a scene reminiscent of a fantasy book.

At work, her Unmarked peers would be effusive about how they wished to be in her shoes. Their views often led her to question whether her lack of appreciation for her circumstances was selfish. It had to have been to some extent, especially when Holders had practically persuaded her that she deserved little to nothing at all. Yes, they all faced numerous grievances, her and the billions of Unmarked individuals scattered across Yeblil. Merely existing was a source of complaint for many of them. But the young girl sometimes felt it would be inconsiderate and heedless to complain more than those who suffered greater than she did.

For instance, she dwelled under a nice roof with two working chimneys on either side, while the family of her friend often had to put down buckets to collect the rainwater that seeped through their torn roof. How self-seeking would she sound then if she were to voice her discontent regarding a house as grand as hers?

While the girl’s self-centred parents provided only meagre sustenance and occasionally subjected her to days of starvation merely for the thrill of it, she found solace in the fact that she had someone to rely on for nourishment. It was not much each day, sometimes none at all, but she knew it would always come back. She was making a quarter of the jewels they loved to carelessly spend, after all. Yet, beyond her own struggles, she was acutely aware of the dire circumstances faced by millions of her people living on the streets—struggles that frequently resulted in their inevitable demise through malnutrition, dehydration, or some form of an illness she’d never heard of. Despite her own hardships, she resisted the feelings of discontent, recognising the privilege of having any form of support and acknowledging the plight of those less fortunate. Complaining was selfish, as many Holders had often pointed out to her.

Eun had always been aware that she was more blessed than many of the Unmarked, and for a while, she entertained the notion that it was because of the woman from her dreams, her guardian angel. That woman instilled hope within and a belief in the possibility of a brighter future, a future society claimed she was incapable of attaining. Her angel, despite never having seen her face though she frequently loved to envision what it looked like, was the greatest reason why her heart was not yet exhausted from hoping. With the innocence of a child, she’d eagerly reached out, fingers extended, longing for the day when life would become simpler, not just for her but for those she saw wailing at the sides of the roads. But it never had. And after today, perhaps it never would.

Today marked her last. Her guardian angel had misled her. It hurt to admit but it seemed she’d uttered nothing but lies and empty assurances. All the Unmarked were in this cruel world and all they ever would be, no matter how great or how long her heart wished for any bit of difference, were mere playthings toyed whenever their enemies desired. Had she been at fault for heeding the fabrications her angel fed her despite everything else the world told her?

Eun could very clearly still recall the day she had been introduced to the house for the first time, specifically her bedchamber. Even now, the joyous grin that had been on her face, unmarred by any scars, when she heard she was going to have her very own space was vivid in her memory. Her heart had swelled with contentment, a gentle expansion that permeated every crevice of her being. Those days, although brief, were some of the most untroubled she could recollect. They were times when she was free from the jibes and the torture, and so she cherished them dearly.

The moment they found out that she was not one with an ink on her wrist, her parents proceeded to confine her within a squalid chamber, a space of which she had previously been unaware. Within this room, she was provided with nothing more than a diminutive mattress accomplished by soiled sheets. It was small and cramped, hardly enough to accommodate a single bed, and the mattress, tattered and worn, was not long enough for her lanky figure. Over time, the air became thick with a musty odour. Thick layers of dust often accumulated, while cobwebs hung in the corners.

But she could not complain. That would be selfish. She deserved it, after all, doomed to a life of eternal struggle and suffering, because how dare a Card not appear on her wrist?

Vihaan knocked again, impatience evident in the way his knuckles hammered the door faster and louder, while her despondent umber eyes ran down her exposed limbs. During the ignominy for the crime they did not witness nor had evidence for yet insisted she committed, the commoners who had gathered to take part in the persecution had callously torn her clothes, revealing more of her vulnerability. She knew that many among the crowd were enlivened to see her bare flesh for different reasons. Some sought to bear witness to the scars that they believed justified their actions, to assure themselves that this was how it was meant to be, while others were merely driven by a voyeuristic desire to glimpse as much of her bare body as possible underneath all those wounds.

And yet, she could not complain, for that would be selfish.

In fact, she was sure that upon her return to work, her peers who’d been forced to clean and run errands as those were their only values, aside from their bodies, would hold her responsible for this predicament. Yes, they would believe she had not paid a Wiper—an illicit Holder who’d been disallowed to use their powers—to take away Athena’s Card and was wrongly accused because some powerful Igadan girl wanted to tear her apart. But her peers would even then insist that it had been her fault, and she’d agree with them. If she had not befriended Athena, if she had not lied to the headstrong, wicked girl about her true nature, perhaps, she would not have been publicly shamed at all.

Finally, after what seemed like an eternity, the door clicked open, revealing a figure standing near it. The sight of this person immediately caused a wave of dread to wash over Eun, leaving her stomach churning with unease. Seemingly amused by the small smile that graced his lips, the boy’s eyes skipped from the guard to his sister.

“I was sent to ensure that she got back home. We’re finished with her.”

His smile enlarged as he widened the opening of the wooden door. “Bring her in yourself. I do not want to touch her.”

Vihaan exhaled with slight frustration but nodded. As he dragged her further inside her prison, he mumbled under his breath. “And who said I wanted to touch her either?”

She needed not get inside the house to pick up the two voices quarrelling in the great chamber.

“You insisted we keep her! You promised we could keep her under control!” The voice of her father sounded first, hostile and acerbic, as if often were. “This was all your idea, and look what she’s done now. Do you realise the mess you’ve gotten us into, Liezel? She’s humiliated us. How are Queen Matilda and King Titus going to look us in the eye now, knowing we deliberately hid the fact she was Unmarked? All because you wanted some daughter. Tell me, Liezel, was it worth it? Tsewi, was it worth it?! Was Alvin not enough for you?”

As her mother whimpered, Vihaan dropped her body to the floor of the narrow corridor the front door led to. Without a word, he turned, and off he went.

“I-I just thought…” Her mother’s brittle voice came about only after the door had finally shut. “You know I’ve wanted one, and she seemed so perfect then. I thought this would be good for me. I though—”

“Oh, of course, you did, because it’s always about you, is it not, Liezel?” Her husband snapped. From the sounds that reached the younger’s ears, she could tell the heavy man was tearing through the room, overturning furniture in a fit of blind rage, the sound of splintering wood and shattered glass punctuating his uncontrollable outburst. “You never think about this family.”

“Of course, I do!” Liezel screamed, guttural. In her core, rage bubbled hot and unmanageably. “Besides, you agreed to take her in. Don’t you dare deny that you did not want her then, Angelo. Perhaps, not as much as I did, but you wanted her.”

“Wanted her? What would I want with a worthless little thing like her?”

“Had I known of her status, I would have left her there, Angelo, I swear it!”

Over the months, Eun had grown to prefer working to being here. Was it awful that she sort of enjoyed it? Of course, her masters were always so demanding and cruel—she would not wish them on even her greatest foe—but the errands she ran, they gave her a sense of accomplishment that boosted her mood. She was repeatedly reminded of how worthless she was, but here were things that she was quite excellent at. That, and along with the fact focusing on tasks provided her a temporary distraction from stressors or worries. Immersing herself in such mundane activities gave her mind a break from rumination and negative thoughts. Here at home, everything was often the same. Angelo and Liezel fighting. Alvin coming into her room in the dead of night. Her constantly sobbing.

The boy turned to the younger. It was not exactly anger that lingered within his sienna brown eyes, more like pride, and she knew exactly why. “You’ll forever be contemptible, Eun, but just when I start to think you’ll finally grow a brain and stop being such a nuisance, you always prove me wrong.”

It was not me that insisted on this plan, she wanted to say. And are you not worried about what will be of you now that everyone knows you’re liars? She’d dare not utter such words, even if she could.

The moment it finally dawned on her that she was in the same room as the boy, alone with him and merely a few feet apart, it suddenly felt as though the room was beginning to close in on her, walls converging as if to swallow her whole. The weight of anxiety pressed upon her chest, making it difficult to draw a steady breath. The presence of any Holder induced apprehension in the young girl, but Alvin intensified this fear to an extreme degree. How funny that the Holders she was most terrified of were near her age rather than the adults. Alvin, merely two years her senior, possessed a malevolence that mirrored that of his own people. He had not needed to be among the commoners who gawked at her exposed form moments ago, not when he got his own private spectacle whenever he desired.

Alvin let out a sigh and ran his fingers through his short dark brown hair. “Ma. Pa. Eun’s back.”

“She’s back?! Oh, the audacity she has to return after what she did to shame this family!”

She could already hear her father drawing out his black leather belt while his feet pounded the floor, sounding nearer and nearer with each passing second. Eun would start to beg but the sea of unbearable pain that had washed over her was far too great and exhausting. Today marked her last. She’d welcome death like a hug.

The first strike of the weapon met her back, yet her throat was too strained and weary to make much of a sound. Only after the third did Liezel get in the way, stopping the man’s portly arm before it could lower.

“Move, hyor tsewi!” With his other arm, Angelo struck his wife’s cheek. He may have been inches shorter than Liezel but the man was large and rotund. The only bit of strength he got was from his weight, otherwise, he would be no better of a fighter than any Unmarked man on the streets.

Despite her bleeding mouth, Liezel persisted. “Wait, for Shoje’s sake. Listen to me!”

“I’ve done that before and look where it got us.” With all the yelling, Angelo’s voice was starting to get hoarse. “See, this is why whores like you ought not to be listened to, at all.”

“You don’t have to kill her, Angelo,” the woman cried out behind him. “Let’s just send her away, like we’ve always planned. We’ll take her to Gozar. That man does well in teaching vile little girls like Eun some manners.”

Angelo stopped, his wide chest rising and falling with every heavy breath he inhaled. His stout fingers clenched the black belt as he continued to stare at the half-dead girl lying on the floor before him.

“Alright,” he finally said with a nod, turning away. “Have the wagon prepared.” The man looked over to his son, who stood leaning against the cream-white great chamber door, watching the scene from afar. “Alvin, get Minerva here straight away and have her clean up this mess. There’ll be guests here soon.”

Off the two of them went to carry out their instructions, leaving the man alone with the little girl passed out in her own blood.

Vile little girl

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