Blood Retribution The Present

Millicent was sitting on the cold, creaking wooden bench in the dimly lit room—her so-called "room" that she had when she was little is someone else's property now. Dust clung to the air, swirling in the faint light filtering through the small, grimy window. Her head dropped to the ground as much as possible, her long, unkempt hair falling over her face like a curtain, shielding her from the world that had long since turned its back on her.

Millicent's POV

It had been years since she first realized the weight of her sadness, the heavy fog that refused to lift. At first, it was just the emptiness, the silence in the halls that once echoed with her mother’s laughter. But now, it had grown into something worse—something she could feel in her bones, in the way her chest ached even when she wasn’t crying. Depression. That was the name for it.

And now, it had started showing in her body too—her limbs always felt heavy, her breaths shallow, her heart weary.

She had tried to reach out. To the one person who should have seen her, who should have cared. Her father.

But all was in vain.

He never looked at her the same way anymore. Not after her mother was gone. Not after he brought in a new wife, a new family, and soon got a daughter who wasn't her.

It had been a long time. Too long. She told herself she was used to it now, that the absence of love had hardened her enough to stop expecting it. But some part of her—small, fragile, foolish—still cracked a little when he walked past her as if she were invisible. When he smiled at her little sister but never at her.

She regretted that decision. The one that sealed her fate.

If only she had said no to her father’s request back then... Would her life have been different?

She had already lost her mother. But at least she hadn’t lost her father... right?

She let out a loud sigh, shaking off the thoughts before they could consume her any further. Pushing herself up from the old bench, a sharp crack echoed through the room as the fragile wood protested under her weight.

For a moment, she froze.

The sound was loud. Almost as if it were screaming.

Screaming in the pain of loss.

The loss she wasn’t allowed to grieve. The grief she was forbidden to speak of.

Before she could dwell on it, the door swung open violently, slamming against the wall.

Gloria Gertude

"Millie!"

That voice. That shrill, saccharine voice.

Her little sister.

Millicent turned her head slightly, barely reacting.

Gloria Gertude

"Why is my dress ruined?!" The younger girl stomped her foot, holding up a delicate white fabric now stained with ink. "Did you do this on purpose?! Trying to get attention, are you? Pathetic."

Millicent's fingers curled into her palm. She wanted to say she had nothing to do with it. She wanted to defend herself. But she already knew how this would end.

It always did.

Her father would come home late, her stepmother would spin the tale in her favor, and her sister would smirk in the background, knowing no one would ever doubt her words.

And Millicent?

She would remain the villain in a story that wasn’t hers to write.

Unconsciously… instead of the contrast she was about to face, a sudden smirk appeared on her lips. A sly smirk, as if mocking her own fate.

If it wasn’t for her own father, she might have left this miserable life far too early.

How ironic. She wasn’t clinging to life because she was afraid of death. No—she was waiting. Waiting for the last piece of hope inside her to crumble completely. She didn’t want to be the villain in her own story, nor did she want to become the monster they painted her as. But her stepmother and her daughter never missed an opportunity to push her toward that edge.

Gloria Gertude

“Why are you smiling?” her little sister hissed, her eyes narrowing with suspicion.

Millicent tilted her head slightly, looking at the younger girl as if seeing her for the first time. So young, so small… yet so cruel. A child who wasn’t supposed to be this malicious, and yet, she was.

Instead of answering, Millicent simply took a slow step forward. The dim lighting of the storage room cast a long shadow behind her, stretching toward her sister like a creeping omen.

The girl flinched.

For the first time.

That reaction made something inside Millicent stir. Amusement? No. It was something deeper, something raw.

She has done pretending now.

Her little sister clicked her tongue and turned away, covering her unease with a scoff.

Gloria Gertude

“You’re such a freak. Just wait until father comes home. Let’s see how you smirk then.”

Gloria Gertude

And with that, she stormed out, slamming the door behind her.

Millicent Gertude

Millicent exhaled through her nose, her smirk lingering. "Let’s see how I smirk then?"

She already knew the answer.

She wouldn’t.

Not because she feared the outcome—no, that was a game she had played for far too long. It was because she was still had some hope left for her own father. That he would understand her someday.. If not today... And the least she could do is not to offend his dearest one. The little daughter of his.

She seems to be his only daughter now.. But, she believes that he might be caring for her somehow that she don't know.. He can't just really ignore her ... Right?