{Devil Of Envy} // District 2 [fin]

A n s i  L i v o r
Envy

"And it's hard to dance with a devil on your back"

I suppose you want to know who I am, don't you? Well, lowly servant, what reason would you have for that. No, save it, I don't want to hear your babbling. How did you manage to get in here anyway, there should have been someone at the door to keep people like you out of here. Now that your here I suppose you won't leave until you get what you wanted. Information seems to be one of the few things I have, unlike everyone else apparently. If you managed to find this mansion out of all of the houses in District two and survived entering the place I take it you are determined. Very well, if you insist then have a seat - on the floor! - I have a lot to explain about myself. To start, I am fourteen...

My skin is pale, since the sun has kissed it so rarely - its home being somewhere I dislike to venture, outside. It is not the only the elements that detour me, but human interaction as well. As such, my skin has decided to stay as light as the non-coloured candles I have in my room. I detest the sweet scents of other candles, they cause my head to throb and pound. The servants, highly incompetent in almost every matter, seem to be unable to correctly match ones with colour, so I simply told them to buy me one with absolutely none whatsoever. They finally got something right.

I have a body that lacks much of what others possess - I cannot help as my eyes linger on the curves my housemates possess. Their bodies are perfect, leaving nothing to be desired. Alas, my body is nothing but the opposite - far too small, far too weak. The bones that stack upon each other are squeezed by my nearly translucent skin. Hair, like a raven's feather, plucked and torn by the cruel hand of fate, cascades down my shoulders. Eyes, large and sad, lay just below my brow. They resemble the sea on a stormy night, with waves that crash upon an unsuspecting ship. It sinks into the murky depths, in which darkness you will find the colour of the small disk contrasting the bright white below it.

There is more that I want, more that I yearn for that I can never posses, namely colour. My clothes are the darkest of ebony, usually falling loosely around my body. Dresses knit of thick yarn, shirts of dark linen, lay in stacks upon stacks safely tucked away in the drawers that line my room. Bows and bands lay upon a vanity, used to pull back the dry nest called hair. A mirror is used for scrutinizing my appearance. Taking note of what I lack, taking note of what others have.

I am envious.

I only want what I do not have. And I have nothing. I see the pity in other's eyes as they lay on the girl who has nothing. I haven't love, nor sanctity. Though, before I have been fooled into thinking as such. A man, a king who shares my home, toys with my heart. He makes me feel as though I may just be able to have something that others don't - his love. And yet this man, so much older than me, takes his love away so quickly. It slips through my fingers and flies away with such haste I cannot help but think that maybe his advances are more than just a game, that I may finally obtain something.

And yet, as my envy, the deep dark within my heart, threatens to overwhelm me, the cold hands cling to my fingers, desperate to plunge me into the darkness which it is made of, something keeps it at bay - a light that battles the darkness within. For I am not simply envious, I am humble. Hand in hand, their forbidden affair intertwines within me, a phenomenal combination that have formed to create who I am.

Known to give up easily, my stamina leaves much to be desired. Frustration and tears are close friends of mine. Simply to throw this frustration upon the floor, to leave it for others to deal with, is a much easier of a solution. I understand I have nothing and, a part of me realizes that I never will. I am doomed by some trick of fate to wonder this world with a huge hole within my heart. Yet I have come to terms with this, and have accepted my fate. Perhaps this is what keeps me sane.

I met the Queen early in my life, before we discovered the mansion. Yet, as everyone seemed to find their place in this world, I was shoved into the side lines. I became little better than that of a scullery maid. I was left, feeling as though I had lost something I had never had. The most unimportant important around - what a term, so close to actually having something and still left with nothing.

My parents cared nothing about their daughter. Labeled a career I was taught nothing of weapons. I could fight, I knew nothing of combat. Simply thrown in a battle and told to survive. I do not possess intelligence, nor strength. I am not quick on my feet or strong, and so those so much bigger than me prevailed. The dark bruises that appeared on my skin after every unfair brawl were dark and cruel. And the injustice of it all soon overcame me.

And so I ran away. I left them in the dead of night. I gave up the love that I could give to them and tried to forget everything - their neglect, the injustice of everything. How is it that the only thing I have is nothing? All my life it has been this way. All my life I have been nothing but an insignificant pawn. To be something pitied. Even in the kingdom, where I finally belong, I do not. When I finally have a home, I don't.

How I just want to have something.