Then it changed.
“You’re mine, kitten.”
I woke to the feeling of a thousand razors cutting into my back and those words ringing in my ears. Panic grabbed my bones, my lungs fighting for air until I sat up. Twisting at the waist, I clawed at my back, desperate to stop that sting from digging into my skin.
My eyes popped open, a moan rolling over my tongue. For a moment, I was sure I was back in the red room with Master on my back, the whip biting into my flesh. My head snapped from side to side, looking for him, this time ready to run if I was given a chance. When nothing but silence, broken by my sharp inhales, met my ears, I allowed my vision to focus on the soft lighting and took in my surroundings.
I was in the nice man’s house.
Once more, I remembered Master’s rage and how he’d repeatedly used my back like a canvas with his whip, screaming out, ‘you’re mine’. I also recalled my strength and what I’d done to Master, how I hurt him, and those last words ringing in my ears as I ran.
“I hurt Master,” I whispered, unsure how I felt yet surprised by my courage to do so.
Trying to push those memories from my mind, I concentrated on that sudden press on my bladder, reminding me I hadn’t peed in a while. My gaze roamed the room, noticing the door to my left. Just as I stood, my back began to itch again, and I wiggled my shoulders, hoping to get it to stop. The more I moved, the more it itched. Then it began burning, like the way Master loved to cut me.
Wanting to relieve that burn, I tugged off my shirt, then tried scratching at my back. After a few tries, I felt something give. I pulled and yanked until it came away in my hand. Immediately, the irritation stopped while I stared down at the white dressing, big enough to cover at least half my back. But it was the lines of blood that held my attention. They looked like a word. I turned it around and couldn’t make it out. Tossing it on the bed, I touched my back. It felt wet and sticky.
Not sure if it was bleeding again, I walked toward the only door in the room. Opening it a little, I peered into the darkness, then looked over my shoulder, wondering if I should call someone. As I did, the door slipped, opening wider. Immediately, a bright light filled the room. Surprised, I jerked back, then, with just my head, I leaned inside to look again. When nothing happened, I entered and stopped to look around.
Everything was so different, so big. “So pretty,” I gushed as my eyes fell on the other girl in the room. She was also naked, just like me. I took a step forward, and she did so too. It was only then I realized it was a mirror. Having read about it but not seen one, I moved closer and stopped.
I reached out a hand touching the girl on the other side. “Hello, Cinder,” I whispered. “You’re pretty.”
Like Cinderella.Mama’s voice whispered in my ear.
One blue and one green eye stared back at me. I moved closer. “What makes you different, Cinder? Why did Master like your eyes? What made him want to hurt you all the time?” She didn’t answer me.
Turning my head from side to side, I touched my face, watching the other girl do so too. Then I ran my fingers in the hair hanging over my forehead. Someone had pulled the rest of it back into a single plait. I brought it to the front and fingered the twisted braid. Even though I’d known my hair was black, now that I could see all of it, I wished it was the same color as Cinderella’s. Mama said she had pretty gold hair.
“Maybe Master wouldn’t have hurt us if it was different,” I told the girl in the mirror. Keeping my eyes on her, I ran my hands down my body, over the bandage around my thighs, then back up to my breasts. Scars in different shapes and sizes had me touching each one, running my finger over it, and trying to remember when I got them. I couldn’t.
I looked up at my face again. Sadness changed to excitement, racing through me. I stared at this stranger I’d waited so long to meet. I wanted to smile. I had to smile. For her. I tried to widen my lips. I didn’t know how to. The smile wouldn’t come. Using my fingers, I placed them on the sides of my mouth and tried pushing them up. Still, it wouldn’t come.
“He hurt us,” I said softly, the skin on my back itched again. “You can smile now, Cinder. He’s gone. You don’t belong to him anymore.”
My eyes shifted just as I felt my first smile about to take shape. I gasped, slapping a hand to my mouth, my eyes stuck to a back, and the marks blinking under the light. I frowned. Was that my back I saw in the mirror? Swinging around, I came face to face with myself again. Confused, I jerked my head to look over my shoulder, seeing my face. It took a moment to realize that the mirrors covered the walls opposite each other.
How?
Not recognizing that different kind of burn building inside my body, I turned to face the first mirror again, bringing my gaze up. It latched onto my back, reflected in the mirror behind me. Now, I saw it.
That burn grew hotter.
“What did you do, Master,” it started as a whisper. “This is why you dragged me back upstairs, bleeding and sore.” My voice grew louder. “This is why you were so happy cooking?” Louder.
That burn became a blazing fire.
My fingers clenched at my sides, my nails biting into my palms. My heartbeat raced. My breathing grew harder. My nostrils flared. My teeth clenched. My stomach churned.
I blew.
“No!” the flames fanned out with my scream while my fists came up, smashing into the mirror. “No!”
Punching. Banging. Hitting.
I slammed hard and fast. Over and over. Chest heaving. Fists stinging. Skin tearing. Wetness rolled down my arms.
Still, the firestorm raged.
