Chapter 1
It felt wrong. Too wrong to even imagine.
If you were to ask her about it, she would ignore you. She would probably say “Oh no, you’re getting the wrong idea! He would never-” ..and then she would continue blabbering over how innocent, how good, and how caring of a person her father was.
Now that she comes to think of it, maybe he was kind. Maybe he did really want to protect her. Though, clearly, there was another easy way. A way that wouldn’t have torn their family apart and hurt them. Hurt HER.
She doesn’t usually talk about herself much. But that was old her. Times have changed, and there she was, in another sweet, sweet world.
Who was she? Where did she come from? What was she?
"Ah, Lillia, dearie. You messed up again didn't you?"
Lillia looked down at her muddy messy feet. Her hands were clenched in a fist, while tears rolled down her face. She looked up at her mother, who had her face facing the young little girl.
"B-but ma!" Lillia began, "He began it first! I swear!"
Mrs. Anderson sighed, placing her unknitted sweater down on the table top. She knelt down, and lifted her daughter's chin.
"Sweetheart," she said kindly, "You know you don't have to lie, right?"
Lillia crunched her face in exasperation. "I swear I'm not lying!-"
"Wait here for the maid to arrive, Lily," her mother said, getting up and grabbing her knitting tools, "I know Arnold can never do it, don't lie to me."
Saying thus, she walked hastily out of the room.
Lillia sat on the ground, looking at her dull muddy blue skirt. No one ever believed her.
"Why can't they ever believe me?" Lillia thought, another tear making its way through her eyes, "I'm not a liar. I never was one, and never will be one."
The pitiful 8 year-old slowly got up from the dusty wooden floor, and lifted up her broken racket. She looked around, before stealthily creeping out of the half-closed door.
Yet again.
Yet again Lillia's cousin, Arnold, had gotten her in trouble.
"Get out, Lillia, and don't come back till you've realized your mistake!"
She was just a 9-year old. How much could she possibly understand about adults, and their mental thoughts? Structure? Ideas?
Lillia's dark brown hair swayed in the strong monsoon wind. It was raining heavily outside, while the young girl was seated on a tall platform under the shed beside their house. She usually liked playing and walking around in the rain, but her whole day was, most appropriately, ruined.
Lillia never got to go to school. She was homeschooled by mentors and her parents. "Atleast she's not going illiterate, and atleast Arnold can get to go to school," her mother had said. Was that really necessary to leave out their young daughter, and separate her from school and friends? No.
If that wasn't unjust enough already, the Anderson couple had already pre-decided before their marriage, that they were going to have a healthy young boy. So was Lillia basically a mistake? Unwanted? Probably yes.
Lillia's bright blue eyes scanned the horizon. For a homeschooled girl, she was pretty intelligent and wise for her age. Her mentors called her "extraordinary". Was she?
She held out her hand in the rain. She could feel every droplet on her hand, so cold, yet so...graceful.
She could easily go home. But she decided to go to her aunt's house instead. According to her, Mrs. Smith was probably the only warm person there was. As her relative, atleast.
It wasn't too far, either. She could easily walk through the wet grassy path, walk around that corner, go two blocks straight and, well, there she was. Yes, she had learnt the path by heart, just to ensure she ended up in the right house, technically. She wouldn't just go into a random house and say "Hey aunt! Mom kicked me out, can I stay for the night?" Ah, gosh, that would be so embarrassing.
She had decided. She put on her hat, shaded her head for extra shielding, and walked out of the shed.
"Have a seat, pumpkin. What may I get you?"
What was it? What was the time? Lillia didn't know. She didn't care.
