Warm tears trickled down my face. With each droplet, I wiped my face with my forearm, trying to cease the miserable sobbing and put an end to how pathetic I was being.

Why? Why do I always have to go along with what other people say? It’s so unfair! I work my ass off every day, trying to lure in those good grades, and she tells me I’m not doing anything? That I’m worthless? That I can’t do a single thing?

I grabbed and pulled at my hair, squeezing my knees to my chest to create a tighter human ball. Perhaps, this was my method of attempting to keep everything that was falling apart together. I was conscious of how foolish I sounded and how ungrateful I was. Nonetheless, I wanted to purge my mind of all the tears and despair so I could awake the next day, ready for whatever could await me.

Or, could I end it here and never have to anticipate my demise?

The mere idea was intimidating, and yet, it seemed the only possible solution to my madness.

Why couldn’t I have been born as someone else? What was the point of my birth?

These questions darted rapidly through my mind with no end. I sniffled while hiding under my blankets. The cozy, fuzzy fur of the cloth soothed the anger and frustration that reverberated throughout my mind. There was nothing left but the sorrows of loneliness pecking away at my throbbing heart.

Bundled under all these blankets, I began to feel warm, and sweat gradually began to bead on my forehead.

So hot...

Unexpectedly, the heat started to become unbearable! I could feel my fingers burning, turning black and ashy at the tips. My hands trembled as I shrieked at the horrid sight. The oxygen was slipping away from my mouth. Strangely, white flames began to flutter around my body. At this point, I had thrown the covers off and was clutching my throat for dear life.

What the…? What’s happening?! Why is it so hot? I can’t breathe!

I kept coughing, and soon enough, I couldn’t even hear my voice. My surroundings blurred, and I could no longer see the prison-like walls of the room where I laid each night crying my pitiful life away. It was pitch black until I opened my eyes to a place where everything seemed so bright. I squinted and covered my face with my arm to defend myself from the glare. The scenery had drastically shifted. My head was still spinning in a whirl, refusing to stay stationary until a few moments passed.

It seemed that someone had answered one of my questions.

“Elisabeth Madeline Carabell! Get up, you worthless child!”

I instantly sat up choking. Still, my vision remained blurry. Everything was a blob of muted colors. I rubbed my eyes to clear them.

“You still dare to be late for your classes? I bet you the headmaster is thinking of expelling you just for the fact that you are Elisabeth Carabell! The Carabell family is already struggling enough as it is!” the voice rebuked me.

Before me, I saw a tall man with rounded gold-rimmed glasses on. White hair decorated his head, paired with a stern expression and plenty of wrinkles from stress. He wore a formal arrangement of an elegant black coat over an undershirt with frills and rounded buttons. The one thing that contrasted his simple ensemble was his glowing, green eyes. They were small, yet they empowered all those in the room with relentless rage. The expression he displayed was ruthless and made me feel quite overwhelmed with uneasiness.

Clinging to his side was a short woman with ink-like hair and hazelnut irises. She was clothed in a long-sleeved black garment and an apron. Freckles decorated her light skin—where under her eyes, she had dark circles. Quietly, she held her hands clasped together before her as she watched the dramatic scene unfold.

An old man and a maid? What a strange fantasy. I must be dreaming, but this seems so real.

The wallpaper was white, with golden embellishments plastered all over. A large portrait of a stunning young lady was strung up at the center of the wall, framed in polished mahogany. The artist captured the girl’s luscious dark hair and her heavenly complexion that was beautifully paired with her distinctive bejeweled evergreen eyes. The longer I stared at her, the more she stared back at me. It was as if we had sworn secrecy of some sort, and that would be specially kept between us.

The scenery was exceptionally detailed, and I couldn’t help but wonder why everything appeared so realistic. As much as I am a creative person, I’m afraid dreams can only go so far in its vivid and vibrant fantasies.

All of a sudden, a cold and bitter wave of anxiety washed over me like a tsunami with its towering wall of murky water and other miscellaneous masses that sloshed around within it. The distressing words struck with such an impact that even a natural disaster could pale in comparison.

“Class? I’m late for my classes?” I asked frantically.

I rubbed my head in guilt.

Geez, I’m in a dream, and I still care about going to school? I could never shake away that habit. I wish I wasn’t so caught up with work, then maybe I would smile more often. You may think it’s a stupid thing to care about so much, but for me, it was my entire life.

I glanced up at the two. The old man was beet red and seething with dangerous wrath. I leaned backward in accordance to my survival instincts.

Is there…is there smoke coming out of the ears that belonged to the wrinkling man with the formal attire? No, no, I think that’s just my imagination. Why am I asking myself such stupid questions?

“What do you mean late for school? Teresa came in here trying to wake you up, and instead, you slap her, you insolent girl! I’ve had enough of your delinquent behavior! If I hear another word that you’ve been acting up, I will disown you!”

I was beginning to become irritated with all the yelling, itching to say something that I knew I would instantly regret.

“Who are you anyway?” I questioned the man.

Slap!

The man hit me across the face in spite of my “dumb” question. My hands shot up to the red area that remained on my oddly soft and squishy cheek.

What? How could I be able to feel him hit me? Is this not a dream?!

My heart started racing.

Am I…where am I then?

“You stupid little girl, don’t you dare act any less stupid than you already are! Get dressed immediately and go to school accordingly. Why couldn’t I have Viktoria as my daughter? You’re a complete disgrace!” the man yelled at me as he stormed out of my room.

A disgrace? Are you kidding me? What have I done to deserve this? Even here, I am treated as if I’m worthless… This makes no sense! I have a right to know where I am and how I got here!

“You must listen to your father! Expulsion and the orphanage will be your only companions if you don’t stop acting up,” the maid lectured me.

I didn’t want to incite anyone else’s anger by asking questions I knew would be blatantly ignored. In the end, I remained silent and allowed a complete stranger to dress me in uniform.

When I was told I needed to wear my uniform, I was expecting a button-up top and a lengthy skirt, not a full-on luxurious dress! What even is this place? Am I supposed to be Elisabeth Carabell? I’m not! Not one bit! I am a normal human being in America trying to crawl into a decent university or college, not some rich man’s daughter!

In the movies, princesses—or any rich girl of any kind, would have had a closet full of fancy, schmancy, over-the-top, articles of clothing with the utmost quality. Yes, indeed, I did see something like that. However, what’s with all the lace?! Why is there so much fabric?! Isn’t this all too heavy to wear?! This is a crisis! People could die in these abominations!

I’m not lying, dear readers, believe me! I think I could drown in all the silk before I could survive just a couple minutes in this strange, old-fashioned world. Truth be told, this girl must have had a pretty shitty taste.

My maid searched through many dresses that were excessively poofy and pompous. After numerous dresses piled up on the canopy bed, we had finally decided on a pine-colored off-the-shoulder ball gown dress. It was entirely made out of silk with some jewels stitched onto the left breast of the gown that trailed down to the hem. Puffs of white lace from the layers of fabric I wore underneath peeked through at the chest and my feet. I was told to pick a fancy pair of white gloves to wear. Then, she matched some moderately high slippers for me.

When I looked into the mirror, I saw luscious black locks. My face was slim, and my nose high. My lips and cheeks were pigmented a blushing pink and my skin almost as pale as snow. Most of all, my eyes were distinctively a beautiful emerald. The dress I wore brought out the color of my eyes well, and I somehow had a small body?

Is this really me? Am I really not dreaming? To think that I would end up being the same girl in the portrait who’s creepily watching me from that picture frame!

“My Lady, it is not the time to be admiring yourself in the mirror!” Teresa shouted at me and ushered me out of my room.

Admiring myself?! This person is definitely not me! I don’t look this gorgeous!

I arrived in the dining room, exasperated, and my new father didn’t even want to bat an eye at me. A woman sat beside him and glared at me. On her small shoulders rested a curly black crop of hair, paired with her sharp chocolate eyes, boring her gaze into my chest. Her demeanor is elegant, but to think someone so graceful could look so scornful.

“You have no right to be in the same place as us! No breakfast for you, you glutton! I can’t believe I gave birth to such a horrible daughter!” the woman screamed.

I assume she’s my new mother… I don’t understand anything at all. If these people are my parents, does that mean everyone else at home is gone? Is this some new universe? Am I going insane?

I was shunned away before I could say a word. The whole manor was unnecessarily large and shiny. Everything was decorated with gold and expensive-looking items. I was about to start caressing a golden vase and some other decor. Lamentably, my observations were roughly cut off due to that annoying maid’s persistence on leaving right this instant.

“Lady Carabell, we must leave now!” she reminded me.

I was pushed into an excessively glamorous carriage and rushed off the Carabells’ property. Teresa rode beside me, reiterating the details of my arrival. I am supposedly attending a prestigious academy for my twelfth year. I quickly came to the conclusion that this “Elisabeth Carabell” is about seventeen. The carriage was spacious with burgundy velvet seats and cushions. Outside, I saw large estates and many people dressed in shabby clothing. The rich were all in lavish carriages being pulled by horses led by a coach while the less fortunate were forced to labor and walk every place they went. Either that or they were the ones driving the carriages.

Apparently, they’re having an opening ceremony with all the students attending. My maid, Teresa, gave me my schedule without any other details. Everything is so strange. I’m stuck here trying to figure out what happened before I even woke up in this place. I’m sure I was in my room sobbing about something, and then a flame engulfed me. Did I die? Something weird about this is that the blazes that burned me alive were white. That’s definitely not normal fire. For now, I’ll have to go along with this new identity and try to learn more about this place. I wonder if I’ll survive as Elisabeth Madeline Carabell.

When I arrived, people started murmuring to each other in little groups. Unfortunately, I happen to have overheard plenty of things.

“Elisabeth is still attending? I’d thought she would’ve been expelled because of her poor grades.”

“Ugh, look at her. What an eyesore.”

“She can’t do a thing, what a loser. Nobility could use fewer people like her.”

“The Carabells must be losing popularity pretty fast just because of her existence.”

“Stay away from Elisabeth, she has a disgusting personality.”

How…how could people say things like this to a single person? What kind of person was Elisabeth? Was she really that bad?