I am covered in blood, none of it mine.
But still, pain radiates through me like the blood is seeping out of a million cuts on my body. I stare at my reflection in the cracked vase, trying to recognise the large, hulking figure, but I can't.
I hurriedly glance away, staggering away from the vase and dead body.
I should feel something. Some sorrow, some fear, but there is nothing but emptiness where all those things should have been.
Mother was right.
I am a husk, I was born empty, a void that tries to absorb the emotions of others. I put up a good font for years I must admit. I'm sure she would think so too.
Pausing at the door, I glance over my shoulder one last time before I continue on my way.
I should have asked her what she thought before I cracked her skull open with her rolling pin. But then again, I don't trust my mother to tell me the truth. She's lied every day of her life, and that's why she had to die.
May her soul burn in hell.
The jewelry box is a few feet away, daring me to take it. I give it a nudge with my feet, pushing it over till all of mother's precious things spill out. It's an impressive collection for a servant, and I know not one of them was earned or gifted to her. She always did have quick fingers, something I'm proud to have inherited from her.
The jewelry is none of my concern though. What I'm here for is of far more value than all the gold and rubies in this world.
Out on the streets, the sound of carriage wheels rumbling past snaps me out of my daze, and I remember that I'm not supposed to be here. Urgency rises inside me and I immediately hurry to the run down sitting room.
I push the couch over and peel away the dusty rug, revealing loose floorboards.
A smile curves my mouth as I pull the planks away then reach for it. My blood thrums as my fingers curl around it.
"There you are." My voice is an unfamiliar croak that makes me wince.
Ignoring my own self hatred, I pull out my treasure and stuff it into my satchel. Without further delay, I make my way back to the kitchen, trying not to meet her wide, empty eyes.
Cold air fills my lungs as I slip out into the alley, warring with the lava bubbling inside of me. I don't mind the cold now. It's a reminder that I'm still alive, that I've won, and that never again, will I need to scrape and slave for survival.
Laughter spills out of my throat, and my legs give out under me. For the first time in my life I feel something; pure, undiluted elation.
The world is going to be mine.