Retaliation

My name is Katya, Princess Katya Maryanna Miloslavsky of Valtoria. I was born on the thirtieth January, nineteen ninety-two to a gorgeous werewolf queen who had ruled for many years and a rich vampire dad who had been cursed with the fire of a thousand underworlds. Two days after I was born, I burst into flames and set the royal palace ablaze. The fire killed my mother and left my father with mental issues that nothing could solve. I was cast aside and replaced with his many sexual exploits.

I grew up with the servants, spending much of my time awake with a boy called Nikolai. He was a blonde boy with fluorescent blue eyes that sparkled with mischief and sunk with fear of his mother's wrath. He was a very naughty boy. His favourite exploits included stealing cookies from the chef and running through the halls of the palace with his muddy boots, which usually ended with him getting scolded by one of my dad's hoes. They were always so annoying, covered in a layer of face paint, and stuffed with sacks of gel that made them 'beautiful'. Some of them wore heels taller than me, at age six and others had dresses so short their pants were on show. I hated them, more than I hated myself, and more than I hated my personal maid who said I couldn't talk to Nikolai. According to her, when I eventually got married, I would be more desirable if I knew nothing of the lower classes. The day she said that was one of the only days I'd ever had a smile on my face; Afterall, her writhing on the floor as her nose bled was hilarious.

When I turned ten, I burned up in my bed. Flames encased my body as I writhed in pain. It was one of the worst experiences of my life. The fire never ignited along my skin but the inner flame, similar to heat or bloodthirst, forced me to sit in ice bags for hours on end. It was so lonely, everyone was afraid of me. But Nikolai snuck past the quarantine to see me, he sat with me, spent all his free time with me. He made me smile, even when I truly believed I was going to die. He kept me sane and kept me... alive. I repaid him with a third-degree burn across his body and blindness in one eye, but it wasn't my fault. He just tried to hold my hand and I engulfed him in flames, almost killing him. We were supposed to be mates and marry one day, that's what everyone else thought, but I scared him away. My dad paid his mum enough money that she would keep quiet but things between me and Nikolai were never the same and Dad knew it. I no longer had that bond with someone that I'd missed with mum.

So naturally, I became the cliché overdramatic hideaway that every teenager is played to be. It just seemed right, like a self-inflicted punishment that I truly believed I deserved. I couldn't face the halls I'd shared with my childhood friend; it broke me. Why should I get to roam freely and he must travel with a dog? I knew I was no longer a threat to anyone but it felt wrong to walk the halls of the house without Nikolai running behind me. I stopped functioning properly, how does one function without your other half? I really did love him, more than life itself...

But my dad had other ideas. He wanted me to marry a rich, aristocratic man, preferably one with a title, so I could carry this guy's pups and pass the curse on. I sat at the dining table with so many creepy, old men who loved the idea of a child bride. They made my skin crawl, their faces, their not-so-sly touches under the table. I hated them. My energy to get them off of me had disappeared with mine and Nikolai's friendship. I no longer had the will for an argument or a small verbal war. My wolf was long since gone from my mind. I was just a hollow empty shell of a former person.

When my dad announced that I was going to marry Michel Carter of Austria, my world shattered around me. I knew he was around my age, which was a nice change from the creepy pensioners I had met, but I also knew that he was a stickler for shock collars, silver-plated whips... and his inability to hear the word 'No'. He was infamous for rape and sexual assaults of minors, something he was feared for amongst werewolves and vampires alike. All hope for my useless father vanished with the clearance of my bedroom. Every poster or drawing I'd ever had was ripped from its display on the wall. My clothes were confined in small boxes, all their sparkles, and velvety goodness. I didn't deserve that. But my life was about to crumble around me, and shatter on the ground, into a million pieces...

... with the arrival of a pregnancy test.

After three weeks of being a 'married couple', I found out I was pregnant, at sixteen. He took the majority of my firsts and clung to me like a newborn baby. The bathroom was a joint experience, the bedroom was a joint experience. The only benefit of being pregnant was his punishments were more verbal and less physically gruelling than they used to be.

Still, eventually, it got too much. One night, I gave my guards the slip and ran for the cliff as fast as my bruised legs would take me. I didn't hesitate. I didn't pause. I didn't stop. I used all my remaining strength and hurtled me and my baby over the edge and onto the cliffs below.

I was finally free...