blyth murdock, district four | finished {cbd1}

There is a before and there is an after.

Before, Blyth might have told you that everyone has a natural goodness. Her mother was cold throughout her childhood, more inclined to manage than nurture, but Blyth felt comfortable wearing the leash that was provided for her. The way it bit into her skin was easily ignored. And Oleander, a man she will never again relate to the word father, was at the very least skilled at masking his cruelty until that terrible, fateful day.

A blade is drawn across the tender flesh of a tongue.

Again and again in her mind.

And for the longest time — she numbed the pain, put on rose colored glasses.

The tides approached and fled the shore, she stared quietly out her window, she played the part her parents expected of her. The student who knew only what she needed to know, the career who hardened her body and her expectations, the girl gasping for breath as she's hauled from the churning waves. Ten minutes and counting, the white hot scorch spreading through her lungs as she heaves. More than anything else, she is the daughter of a tyrant who realized far too late.

Lore is as close to a twin soul as she could ever have, her closest friend. She loves all her siblings fiercely, but for him in particular, she would wage all out war. It started as a slow fire, her yearning to overthrow Oleander and reveal him as the monster she began to so clearly see. Real fathers do not attempt to drown their children. She must have slipped into some ghost story, placed under a sea witch's spell.

But this is all too real. Now she knows what happens in the Murdock household when you try to go against the rules that have been set in place; now she knows what the sound of a brother choking on his own blood sounds like. The way her screams echo off the walls of the basement she used to play games in, make believe. She used to think she could level mountains with her voice, with her conviction.

All she managed to do was rob Lore of his own.

<sup>They say the descendants of Four's first victor have precious blood,

but she has seen it dry on the cellar floor like wasted wine.</sup>