Life had never been good to her. Since the day her family abandoned her, hope of putting back her sanity proved to be difficult if not possible.
Whenever she looks in the mirror alone she sees another person. She who was weak rested her hope to the woman who always speaks to her in the mirror.
Her hair was long and curly when hers was always in a tight bun. The voice kept telling things she should have done a long time ago to let her brother stay. The voice says if she does want to live she must obey it, let it control her mind and body. She agreed.
This is the dawn of another self.
With a grunt she pulled the corpse further. Upon its wake, a trail of mixed blood and mud. A couple of steps away and there’s the river. Wiping her sweat, she looked to the horizon. Dawn is approaching fast. She must get this job done or there will be another sermon from Aunt Millford about her early musings whe she gets back.
She snickered, finally dumping the corpse in the river. As if they would know what she was doing. She watched the body go as the current wash it away. Huffing, she turned her back and brought out a small mirror.
"You'll die for your crimes," she said. "Someday someone will know your addiction."
"Please, I'm not the only who'd done it. Are you forgetting that we killed him?"
"No," she answered. "This is getting out of hand. I-I need to tell Lady Millford."
"Who says you can tell somebody of your own crimes. Remember we are one, I am just another part of you. Admit it, you're weak. You're fragile. You need me."
As she rounded the corner out of the alley, she was blocked by a drunkard.
"Lookey 'ere. A lass who are far from home." The man laughed. "Ye wanna join me for tonight?"
"See?" she said in the mirror. "I told you. This is London. Without me you're never going to get out alive."
"Ey, who yer talkin' to? Got a little crack on yer shell?"
The lady brought a knife out from the dark, still stained with blood.
"What, you gonna frighten me with that?" he reached out.
She swung the blade up, slicing his hand. He cried out. He charged again only to meet with another slash of the knife. It wounded his side.
"Why you little--!?
"So you're still standing?"
The man let out a growl.
She took a stance, ready to impale the weapon in his gut.
Before the man even close in to her, a shadow flashed before her. A man dressed in black caught the man, knocking him out in one blow. He turned to her only to find a silhouette.
Her sight was suddenly blocked out. She crouched on all fours on the ground and clutched at the bag around her head. The mirror slid out along with her weapon.
"This is your entire fault," she whispered harshly.
She was hauled up by a man. Naturally, she thrashed but the man kept hold of her and she was soon dumped in a carriage. She heaved inside the bag, calming herself.
The journey was bumpy with sharp turns. Soon, it became hard to memorize the path they're taking.
She was shoved out of the carriage by the same man, she guessed and into a house. The atmosphere changed along with the flooring. She felt it on her footing, it was not any house. Only when in a room the bag was removed.
"Are you alright miss?"
She looked up, seething. "Of course I'm not alright."
A small figure appeared behind the man. A young man of no more than eighteen, she figured.
"You're Lady Millford's niece, am I right?"
That caught her off-guard. She narrowed her eyes on him.
"And Elizabeth's older cousin."
"Who are you?"
The young man paused. "Come with me."
He didn't wait for her reply and so she followed. Outside the gloomy room, she discovered herself in a vast mansion with long hallways and big rooms.
Walking, she scrutinize the young man while she felt the same eyes from the man who saved her. She'll deal with him later. The young man might be the queen's current watchdog and her cousin's fiance.
She sits across from him and his butler, always diverting eye contact from the man.
"So," the earl started. "I believe you already heard about me."
She was silent for a moment, judging his manners if he would continue or not. If he is patient or not.
"It slipped my mind. All I know is that you're an earl. Why did you bring me here?"
He gave her the same treatment but unlike him she turned her attention to the window where she plans to escape.
She turned at him sharply. He was smirking.
"That isn't my name."
"Still, I prefer it."
"I'll not accept it."
"You asked me why I've bring you here. I want you to be Corvelia Phantomhive, my long lost cousin and there'll be no arguments about it."
"Do you claim yourself royalty, what gave you the right to just put me in your carriage and force me to change my name?"
"I serve Her Majesty. And ad I said, your arguments are invalid."
"I want to get out of here."
Her pleas came in deaf ears. "You dump your victims in the river and you dispose your gloves in the same garbage where it is near from your kill."
The lady restrained herself. No good if she would kill him now. Besides, the butler is another issue.
Something clicked inside her head. "Please," she said. "I don't want to rot in prison. It isn't me. I'm not the one who's killing. Please, don't turn me in."
"Then tell me who's killing the men!"
She gasped at the sudden outrage.
"Don't jest with me, you can't escape your crimes. You may either tell the truth which may save you, or not and face jurisdiction from the crown."
"I-I'm not lying." she glanced at the window. Her reflection looked back at her.
"You're not." the butler said.
"She's not?" his young master repeated. "What are you talking about, Sebastian?"
"This matter is best settled when she'll be cooperative, young master. This time it seems there's someone else we're talking to."
The young man's eyes narrowed.
"Your judgement is better be right, Sebastian."
Upon entering the earl's mansion, she felt an invisible cloak enclosed her. Until now, she felt it. She was lead to the salon where she is momentarily granted solitude.
Everything is completely spotless. From the books to the vase in front of her. She hated things in this form. Soon she found herself looking for her mirror. Nothing. She patted her pockets but there's no mirror.
"Sorry for waiting," the earl stood in the doorway. "Now, to settle matters at hand."
He seated himself in front of her. "Let's start again from the introductions."
His butler took over and made the proper introductions. She knew almost all that except his name. Maybe she did it on purpose, not remembering his name. His face is always serious so settled for the 'grumpy earl'. One of the things her other self had agreed.
"I assume you already know a lot of about me. Why ask?"
"Because I need not remind you of your nobility. Please continue."
Her other self stepped in. "I rather not."
"A lady like you will not be treated kindly inside the cells, especially in your case. Murdering men just for your own pleasure."
Grunting, she crossed her legs and leaned back, urging him to continue.
"Also, with your current state no other will help you."
She held his stare, measuring him. "What do you want to know?"
The earl smiled. "A mere introduction."
She sighed and returned his smile. "She's an orphan." she waved her hand in a gesture. "Her aunt and uncle took her in and met their beloved son and daughter."
"That's not the whole story."
She smirked. "This lady will never talk."
"Remember, you are now Corvelia Phantomhive..."
Sebastian bent over to whisper to his young master. She hated people like that talking in front of her.
"It seems you suffered at an early age. I understand that."
"How come an earl like you would understand a feeling like suffering?"
"Trust me, m'lady I earned Sebastian's loyalty because of that."
"The young master will retire to his studies. You will remain here and wait for your escort to retire you to your room."
"I don't need an escort." she stood up.
"M'lady...you are a lady, are you not?" Ciel Phantomhive asked smugly.
She huffed, defeated and sat back down. "No need for you to remind me."
"You can now retire to your room, Your Grace."
After the door closed, she shot from her seat and tried the knob. Locked.
"She was quite a specimen of emotions, Sebastian."
"Once we break her defenses we could use her to dispose him. Tell me why again do we need her to do the dirty job, why can't you do it yourself?"
"It's the trick that matters. If Claude doesn't know that we know that he's alive then we can use her as a tool. From then on matters will be carried out smoothly."
Ciel stopped as Sebastian held the door open for him. "Don't make her suffer more Sebastian. I can see it her eyes. She's still suffering," he said, stepping into the room. "Be gentle to her."
"But don't hesitate to torture her with her weakness. I count on you with that."
"Yes, my lord."
When the door opened, she nearly slipped when she quickly get back to her seat. The butler, Sebastian appeared in the doorway.
"If you please follow me, m'lady."
She stood not because she was grateful, it's because she just wanted to get out of this room and have privacy on her own. At this time, her murderous self rests while she, the one who doesn't kill, remains. She isn't yet prepared to accept her new name.
They ascended the stairs to the upper floor where she was lead to a long hallway. She scrutinized his back while walking. She couldn't decide what kind he was in.
The man wore black that complemented his hair, and when she tried to peek into those eyes, she saw two different colors. A light shade of red and warm brown. Well, does it make them maroon then? No, she thought, it was all different than that.
He opened her door, bowing and stepping aside. She entered and he followed, leaving the door open.
"Is the room to your liking?"
"Quite." she mumbled.
"You are now Corvelia Phantomhive. Please make yourself at home." He started to take his leave.
She won't be dismissed without a clear explanation. "I don't approve of you calling me by the name Corvelia."
He closed in with purposeful strides he might be mistaken as a feline. She made an unconscious step backward. For the likes of her, she doesn't want to be touched. She fears to be touched.
"Who are you now at the present?"
He made a moved towards her hand but she snatched it away. They locked stares. She breathed. His was intense, suddenly his eyes turned fully into bright red ones. A lot she doesn't understand.
She blinked away. Suddenly, he was standing close, she stiffened. There was something in his stare that she can't hold. She was frightened that something might happen if she drowned herself in those pools of bright crimson.
His breathe felt warm on her cheek. She gulped, averting his eyes. Sebastian pressed his lips on her cheek softly. She tried a breath, suffocated.
Trying to push him back with her hands, he pressed more. His scent invaded her. She soon breathed him in. He smelled everything a lady can imagine a man might smell. Only more.
Her hands stayed glued to her side, still afraid of touching. So she stood there frozen, unable to do something.
A voice screamed to her to defend herself but she can't. Something's holding her back.
At last, Sebastian withdrew.
"You have anxiety over physical contact, I see."
She was heaving.
"But you do not fear killing people. It requires touching isn't it?" By the way he said it, it's like he's chatting the news from the morning papers. He had stood over the window.
"Only when the person is dead do I need to dispose of him."
"Interesting," he turned to her. Once again, she felt his eyes burn into her. "You only kill men I reckon?"
"What is it to you? Defending your own kin?"
He smiled and bee lined a closer more than her comfort. "I would not say that I am of their kin nor do I defend it."
He stood a head taller than her, but she has faced men with this height and she isn't a bit intimidated.
"What are you then?"
Gracefully, he placed a finger on his lips. "Ssshhh, it's too early for that."
Her brows furrowed.
"Why do you kill, Lady Phantomhive?"
A mirror was standing behind him in the far wall. For a split second, her other self returned. She didn't try to hold it back. Her eyes turned to slits as she reached for a hidden weapon behind her back.
"The question is, will I answer your question?"
"If not today maybe in another time, I will get it either way."
She smirked. "I kill because it is an addiction."
He tried taking her other hand. By this time he caught it, and held it firmly. It was a peculiar feeling, his hand on hers.
"An addiction. How odd."
"Odd?" she gripped the hilt of the knife, ready to stab the man.
"Odd that if you kill me, I still wonder how many times you'd have to stab me with that knife to satiate your bloodlust."
Suddenly, she felt her hands went cold and his hand warm. He pulled her to him, his other hand disarming her. She gasped at the closeness. She doesn't want to be touched.
How did he?
Lips crushed into hers. Warm and inviting. But she doesn't know how this act is done. He held her close as her lips went limp to him. He soon entered her mouth with his tongue, hot and wet.
She suddenly squealed out from his grasp. She quickly wiped her mouth, horror on her face.
"Bastard, what have you done?!" she cried. "I'll chop of your head with this same knife and put it in a pike."
The butler chuckled. "I'd like to see you try. Who knows whose sharp edge will poke who first."