A villain's secret

Chapter 2: Memories

Lillian's POV
Flashback 7 years ago. (Age= Lillian-12 / Nox-15)

It was cold and wet on the muddy floor. Snow fell and died on Lillian's thin clothes chilling her even more. Left beaten and starving after she was caught stealing fruit from one of the only shops in the third ring, Lillian crouched under the shelter of a wooden board propped up against a wall in the street. Her hair stuck together in matted clumps covering her hollow face like a curtain as she wheezed uneasily, every breath a struggle.

Sitting there alone and cold she tried to remember the feeling of living inside a warm, safe home, parents calling your name, food on a large table. Images glowing in hues of orange and yellow filled her head of what a family looked like.

Lillian did that often, wondering if she ever had that. She thought to herself that she must've had parents at some point. But it was never her that she saw in those images as if even her own mind couldn't picture herself happy.

The noises of muffled screams and ruckus laughter filled the frozen air as men poured out of the taverns heading home.

No one helped each other in this world. It was cruel and dark. Lillian used to believe that there must be someone out there, just one person, who cared. Someone who didn't ignore a helpless scream in the night, someone who wouldn't leave a child unfed if they had food to spare. She wished it were true because that would mean maybe someone would help her.

But she had soon grown up. She had watched soldiers turn their backs to horrific sights for the simple fact that it wasn't their problem. It wasn't their family being beaten or starved or raped.

Lillian had seen and felt what it was to help someone in this world. It had gotten her the scar that ran from her neck to the base of her spine. She had been six years old and left to die on the floor, bleeding and helpless, all because she had tried to help a man who had mistaken her for a thief. The man had been ten times her small size, but that had meant nothing to him as he held Lillian down, crushing her frail ribs before he pulled out a knife.

She shouldn't have survived, the broken bones and the wound on her back should have killed her. But the next day Lillian had woken up in the same place, face first in a growing puddle of rainwater.

And if that hadn't been enough, someone had taken the few things she owned off her unconscious body. A threadbare woollen scarf she'd found in a pile of waste near the gates of the fourth ring, and a bright red hair ribbon. She'd found the ribbon in the river, back when she still had enough energy to try and catch fish. She'd nearly died trying to rescue the pretty red material. And now even that was gone.

Lillian tried to close her eyes and forget about the hunger as the snow continued to fall. She hated sleep. She never knew if it was going to be the final time she opened her eyes. She wanted to live and grow up strong to be a person who helped others. Not die forgotten in the snowy streets before her life had even begun.

If she could only survive three more years, then she could join the girls at the doll house. The ageing woman who stood outside the doors of the building, a cloud of smoke permanently wrapped around her, promised Lillian a room with a bed and even food but only after she turned fifteen. The building was always surrounded by men shouting and whistling to the giggling women that leant out of the various windows. All of them wore brightly coloured corsets, the fabric tattered and torn,  looking worse than Lillian's own clothes with hardly any fabric left to cover them. But Lillian supposed it was better then nothing at all. She didn't know what exactly the job was but she didn't care, a job couldn't be that bad if she got food. And with none of the traps Lillian had put down around town catching anything anymore, Lillian was desperate. At this rate she doubted she'd last a month longer let alone three years.