"UGH, WHATEVER! JUST GET OFF ME, YOU STUPID BITCH!" Sera yelled, tugging and pushing at Verena's hair like a feral cat. She'd rather die than admit this woman struck a nerve. Anyone but her!
"ARGH! STOP IT! YOU HAIR-PULLING GREMLIN!" Verena shouted back, swatting wildly.
She'd heard it countless times.
If you want to be loved, you have to act a certain way.
But why was it that the ones who followed that advice always turned out to be the fakest people alive?
She'd rather die than serve someone. She'd rather die than beg for their love.
...
...
***
The village square had once been their playground. Sunlight, laughter, and games. But that day, it turned sour.
Sera and her friends huddled near the well, trying to enjoy a bit of stolen peace. Then they came, rich silk, polished boots, smug grins. The lord's children.
"Out of the way, rats," one sneered, knocking over their bucket of water.
