Haley Thistle
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Demon Boyfriend: Marchosias (special preview)
🕑 Added 2020-11-11 22:00:59 +0000 UTCEver since your father passed away, you had only been allowed to stay in your home due to stipulations in his will. Your step-mother and her family had never really taken to you. Your step-sisters had always been cold to you, sometimes even callus. Your step-mother only showed her true colors once your father passed. She kept you in the house only because the will told her to, but she was counting down the days until she no longer had to bother with it.
You had been pecked into a corner, and it was either keep in their good graces, or live miserably in your room with the door locked forever. You did everything for them, cook, clean, run their errands, style their hair, hem their dresses, whatever they asked for, you took care of. It became a living hell for you as nothing you did seemed to be good enough.
One afternoon while trying to be as silent as a shadow in your room, you saw a crow sitting on your windowsill. It pecked at the glass and another crow joined it. The two black birds sat there as if trying to call your attention before they flew away. It was in their flight that you decided that you could fly too.
In the cover of night, as well as lacing your step-family’s drinks with a powerful sleeping aid, you left. You took your mother’s jewelry from your step-mother’s jewelry box, you took back some of your dresses from your step-sisters, and you absconded with your father’s beloved bible, which was probably the only thing they wouldn’t notice missing. There wasn’t much money left, but you took enough from the secret stash your step-mother hid away to last you until you were far away.
You took your father’s horse from the stable and kept your back on the house, even though you knew it was your home. You traveled all night, resting a bit before dawn, then carrying on your way again. That night it began to storm, and your horse grew horribly frightened, but you were in the middle of the woods and there was no where else to turn.
“We have to keep going,” you coaxed the beast. “Only a little while further and then we’ll find shelter. Please, do not cry so.”
The horse was unmoved by your woods and it tousled and flinched at every noise outside the fall of rain. You were cold and your teeth were chattering, you knew you would not last much longer this way either, but you had to push further.
In the distance, there were lights twinkling in the distance. At first it was just a few, then slowly, more flickered on until every window was illuminated, and you realized you were standing at the end of a path leading up to a great manor.
“Muh-maybe suh-somone will luh-let us in th-there.” You vibrate through your breaths as the cold seeps beyond your bones and into your soul.
The gates open as you approach, but you’re so cold you pay such a phenomenon no notice. The path turns to cobblestone and moss as you get closer to the manor. Your eyes cross, then go blurry. There is a halo around the lights in the windows, and as you reach the front doors you sag in the saddle.
The front doors open as you step down from the horse. There is a figure standing in the bright light of the doorway, but you collapse before you can ask for help.
You dream of those two crows in from your window. They fly above your head in a sky that is pink and orange, grass brushes up against your cheek, and you can hear your father reciting passages from his bible. You reach your hand up to the sky and there is a heavy diamond upon your finger.
Your hand drops upon your face and that is when you wake. Stretching under fine sheets and squeezing your toes until they pop, you let the pillows under your head billow up and smoosh your cheeks. You gaze up at the painted ceiling where there is a scenery of angels and blue birds, fluffy clouds, and a dark night sky beyond them.
Sitting up you smooth your palm over the sky blue and baby pink comforter resting on top of you. The rest of the room matches the ceiling and bed, all pale blues, soft pinks, delicate lavenders, and at the farthest end there was a huge white fireplace full of flame. Then, sticking out like a sore thumb, there was a man clad all in black sitting in a pastel pink chair.
You stay silent, used to holding your breath until your step-family passed by or grew bored waiting for you to cry. The man looks quite big and has long white hair tied back into a braid. He’s holding your father’s bible in his lap which makes you gasp.
His head lifts up. “Are you awake?”
