Belicoso 6

Prologue

          Cordelia Rossi's real name wasn't the one she wanted-- The Jewel of Mantova.
          Everyone wanted their hands on her. Men, women, treasure hunters. People would try to sell her for the money, keep her as a pride and joy, use and wear her as if she were just a mere ornament. Some just wanted to see her. Others wanted to break her. Popularity amongst her rose especially because it was no one else but her in the town as her kind. The jewel would be stationary on an iron pedestal in the middle of the town plaza where glances would be stolen from everywhere. She was nothing but an attractive fiend only existing to be in constant trepidation. A crowd would gather every moment of every day, rubbing their filthy, oily hands against the pedestal in an attempt to take the jewel for themselves. They wanted her for a company, just for the night.
         She stared at them with nothing to say. Every touch to the pedestal, whether it would be a knock, condensation, or an attempted robbery, it was all the same response. As long as they stayed and showed a form of interest; the only form of the world she would ever see, and the one she'd dwell on. It was because of the constant repetition of the detractor, the one she had been naturally set to trust, that'd she sit there and take the torment in hopes of getting validation. She would dread the entire day when the skies would turn to amethyst and the sun smiled at the other side of the world, shining and supplying joy and a light in which everyone could see. In the morning, it was admiration. At night, it was the purest form of detest. People, specifically women whose husbands gathered at the pedestal in the morning, would mock the jewel and spit at the glass case that trapped her on that pedestal. It had gotten to the point where even her own keeper would despise the attention the jewel was getting, simply leaving her alone at night just for the purpose of vengeance and jealousy. But what did the jewel ever do wrong? All she had ever done her entire life was sit there and endure. What was there to hate?
The jewel was born on a warm summer night. Her keeper had no intention of another liability at the time. But what more could she do? She was already hated amongst the crowd. The jewel, at first, was nurtured and cared for as any new item of the keeper's would be. But over the years, she'd become bored and forget that there was a jewel at home to be shined when she was out frolicking with the married and unmarried of the town. It had gotten to the point where the keeper would toss the jewel around and keep her in the corner. When the money was low, she'd take the jewel and chip away at bits and pieces of her to create a fine dust; sold for the purpose of the keeper's spending. The only purpose of attention to the jewel would be for an advantage of her own. Therefore, the day had come where she came home with polishing equipment and tended to the jewel while a sinister smile formed at the end product. Though the intentions were unknown, for the first time, the jewel had felt loved and nurtured to the point she had smiled the brightest-- only for her to be led for display and constant chipping while kept inside a glass cage ontop of an iron pedestal that read "The Jewel of Mantova".

《》

          Hearing the story now, the jewel would sit there and nod as she listened to some sort of piano sonata as the vinyl scratched against the stylus. You'd think that having a fresh glass of wine in the greenhouse of a winery in the middle of summer would cure the jewel's problems. But there's nothing worse than a jewel who can't speak of the atrocities of her childhood when her young mind had been contaminated with the foul tongue. A man in his early forties sat right across from her with his legs crossed. He had a graying goatee and a balding head with thin, wire glasses on. He held a branded wine bottle in his hand and looked at the jewel who was staring off into the distant vineyard.
          "Nothing like bottled poetry." the man mumbled.
          "I think this is your best one yet."
          The man smiled in delight as he looked at the jewel with a boastful look. He, Vitalli, had nurtured the jewel back into care, but it was only the surface that everyone could see and infer from. Although she was awarded the new name of Cordelia, images of the jewel would be racing in the back of her head. It wasn't that she wasn't getting the nurturing now, but it was the lack of a certain praise that made her wonder if it were all just a mere image in her head.
         A hazel-eyed beauty by the name of Hayden walked into the room and interrupted the small wine session between Vitalli and Cordelia.
        "I am no servant but dinners been ready for twenty minutes." she mocked, eyeing Cordelia.             Hayden knew that Vitalli would always get lost in conversations or drinks while Cordelia was present. While she didn't mind that Vitalli was more open and loving because of Cordelia, she couldn't help but reminisce about her times just like this when Hayden would be in Cordelia's place and drinking Vitalli's new experimented poetry. It was replacement after replacement for Hayden. Another case of her hand-me-down past.
Vitalli glanced over at Cordelia who was intrigued by the hazel-eyed beauty. It had all started since she first walked into the winery and there was a little girl just about the same age as her who went through the same torment. It felt intriguing having someone the same age as her say something nice instead of torment. Hayden, on the other hand, wasn't the most affectionate of the stolen gems that were brought to a better home. Despite that fact, Cordelia still had an eye for her. Something about that woman made her feel seen past the polished crimson on top. Even if it were a glance or a side-eye at one of Cordelia's slip-ups, it would drive her crazy at how much she wanted her to look at her.
"We'll be right there, Hayden."

《》

          It goes without saying that throughout all of Hayden's life, her voice was never present in any conversation. Always brushed off in a family of six, her mother and father never paid any attention to her wrong-doings and let her wander off wherever the wind took her. She was amused by the smallest things: broken robins eggs, dead possums, and destroying little ant holes she found on the sidewalk. It had gotten to the point where she herself would take sticks and start killing little animals and display an artifact of them on her wall as a little trophy of recognition. Soon these small killings would turn into fantasies of bigger animals. From birds to cats, dogs, and little farm rabbits. Nevertheless, these fantasies were just mere fantasies. None of this would become a reality, right?
           When summer ended, Hayden's family would send her back to Italy to study. Although the change in environment shifted from time to time, she felt even more alone knowing that the new addition to the jewel collection would take away any form of attention Hayden got from Vitalli. Once again, she felt betrayed by this and would go to school with a frown on her face except for her usual smug grin and persona. Her notebook would be filled with scribbles and cross-outs, a tally mark for every thought of hurting Cordelia for coming into her life when she thought it was getting better. As thoughts flowed in like a broken dam, a hand would be set on her paper. Hayden didn't move. She just clenched her paper and dug her face into the hand.
          The teacher, concerned, knelt down to Hayden's level and attempted to pull his hand away, concerned by the sudden act.