Chapter Text
Domina.
She can remember.
They think she can’t. But she does.
She still remembers when she first came to this household.
She had been bathed and washed profusely, bandages and dirt stripped from her tiny body. Given a new hospital-white dress, put a bow in her hair (like a present) and a hastily forged adoption birth certificate. She looked like nothing had ever happened to her at all, as if she was a totally normal child.
She had held a man’s hand. A big, strong, and rough one. She remembered thinking to herself that, if the hand had wished to, it could crush her own easily.
He had brought her to them-- her new family.
As a present.
She had learned the boy’s’ birthday had been no more than five days ago. She learned that she was to be his gift from his father.
Something about the boy felt familiar.
She had met the boy before this, she knew. She had scared the boy dreadfully back then. Well, a good gift mustn’t scare its owner. Not when the gift was a pet.
He hadn’t liked her before, but maybe this time it would be different.
(Stop trying.)
The boy looked at her with curiosity.
A bitter child, she’d come to realize. But one who had a very genuine and sweet smile. They may as well get along, she decided. Being nice was actually a whole lot easier than she had thought, and they had become the closest of friends in a heartbeat.
She did not know who named her, but whoever it was decided to give her a name before the boy ever got one. Maybe it was the boy.
The boy had no name. The boy would not get a name until a year later. The boy had to choose his own name.
Lucky.
She remembered when the family decided to make her a full member, rather than merely a pet. After all, the older she got, the tougher it would be to keep her a secret. They told her she was now their daughter, granddaughter, niece, cousin, and the like. She was told that this was a great, great honor. She was given the last name of Lotus, a brand-new member of the grand Matcha family line. She hadn’t felt much different, but smiled at them anyway. After all, it was a big celebration full of joyous faces, and she was born to please.
She remembered when her mother had formally introduced her to her new siblings.
“Domina is now your new sister everyone, so get along with her well for me, please.” She had said, sweet smile on her face.
Well, the girl actually no longer remembered her mother’s face. They had photos and video tapes, but not a single memory of the girls’ contained her mother’s face.
The woman was gone now, but she didn’t feel any sorrow.
It was rude to say, but if anything, she had just felt sorry for her mother when she was alive.
Her half-sister died then too.
She got her very first scarf (a cultural proof of honor in town) from her sister’s corpse. It had felt...so wrong. She cherished that scarf, even though she barely remembered either of them.
Even so, their memory lived on though their cousin’s video tapes. Her sister looked a lot like their mother. They seemed nice.
Although, it’s not as if she lacked a mother figure in her life. She had Joanne. She had Joanne, and the boy’s mother as well.
She said the last one more liberally; the boy had told her that Molly was set to die in ten years due to heart problems no matter what. That was when they were eight. The boy also told her she wasn’t to visit often, as he worried she’d get attached.
The boy...was worried for her?
He was worried! For her!
The joy at that thought had flooded her mind back then, forcing out the despair she had felt only moments before. The gesture was childish. Incredibly rude of her to glow up so, after her very best friend and new brother told her his mother was dying. Honestly terrible. But that was just how she was, and it wasn’t as if his mother was the only one set to die that he knew of.
The boy was right to be disgusted even still, she knew deep down.
“Set to die.”
That was what they had said as well, back when she signed the contract.
Really, it was all her fault she was living this kind of life, the prospect of death constantly hanging overhead. There was no one to blame except her own childish folly, her silly little dream, her stupid wish.
The idiotic little girl had wished to live out her life like the main character in a story. And that opportunity was exactly what was granted to her. ‘It wasn’t her fault’, she liked to lie to herself. After all, she was merely a child at the time with no knowledge that not all stories had happy endings, nor that all interesting stories had conflict and consequences.
And then, to really drive it home, she signed that dumb, permanently-binding contract that is the reason her lifespan is so short. Man, she sure made some dumb decisions as a kid.
Actually, you know what? Why should she blame herself when her family were the ones who left that freaking scroll where a small child could reach?
But no, she shouldn’t have been there in that cellar anyways. Her new family could have easily sent her right back to where she came from for causing so much trouble. It was out of their generosity that she still existed here.
She remembers so much. She wished she didn’t.
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An alarm sounds. Dawn breaks once again.