4 Chapter II: Afford to Lose

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Pain

That one word was enough to make everyone fear for whatever comes ahead. It was different for her though. Pain meant survival. Pain showed strength. Wounds heal over time and scars remain, but if you lived despite all of those then you deserve more than a praise.

It's a feeling you will never learn to love but without a choice, it needs a lot of getting used to. One scar is just an accident---anything more than that meant a lucky escape from death. With those thoughts, having them all over your body meant art.

She's already been to hell.

Pain

One word and nothing else had come into mind even when the first thing she saw was a bright light. She hated the light. Darkness was always better. You can't see what lies in the dark but at least it means you're hidden. And when a touch is felt, you would know at that moment and feel fear just the same. Because you wouldn't know what to fear unless you see it. It was bad, but at least the pain was fast.

But the light.

The light is evil. The light is a curse that means you're still good enough to be used. To be tied down and observed. To be seen by masked faces while you suffer, thinking why they would only give you a few seconds to burn your sight with a sudden brightness and then be covered by a blindfold then after. Asking why is there suffering, and when it will end. The devil is always slow when it comes to pain. When there is light, you would see who is there to make your life hell---and you're given time to fear for what's about to happen.

It hurts. It always hurt. Footsteps might have been better, because they can't see you yet, the same way you can't see them. But when light comes, they would know where you are, and you would too. And the moments before the tests would always be the worst part. Worse than what happens next. Because you'll never know what will come and you're stuck in those few seconds fearing for your life, asking will they kill me? Will they make me kill? Am I to die and be kept so no one will know?

But then she always remembered, no one will know. Because she had no one. And no one will care.

Not when she was sold by her own parents. A thousand silvers. That's how much she was worth despite her gifts; the beautiful waves of hair white as snow, the dangerous glint of crimson in her eyes.

They always called me a devil. Even when she did nothing wrong. Even when she had nothing but fear and tears inside her.

She could never be too sure, but at the moment, she hoped she was empty.

There was a clink, a few blinks, from the light that seemed to follow the movement of her eyes. Half-open, still dazed, but still taking time to stare, not at the strange insects burning themselves as they flew to the light, no. The sky---she hasn't seen it for a very long time, even in pictures. Clouds were white, sky was blue, how proud she was to know the basics.

A slight movement of her head---she tried turning it to the left and then there was pain on her back. A hissed curse followed, although she was ashamed to use such vulgar words she learned from the masked men whom she always heard using such profanities everytime she struggled, the pain somehow goes unnoticed for milliseconds when she curses. It felt good.

Then there was a strange element in her nose. A foul smell that she got used to. Garbage? She didn't mind. She was thrown and locked in rooms with much worse stenches. Vomit is always the worst, for it makes a sound with that disgusting texture she always thought to have been similar to what they always fed her. If she didn't know vomit, then she wouldn't have known the difference. There was pee as well, and it didn't bother her, not one bit. Except the first when she had to sleep with her own when she was caged for almost two days. There were also dead bodies, with labels on their chests. She had one as well. The only difference were there numbers, and perhaps the fact that she was still breathing, although as badly beaten up as them and without a hole in the chest, at least still breathing. Her sense of smell probably already went immune, or broken if that's possible. Years in hell sure did the trick. And in all those years, she figured out a lot of things but only a few she could say out loud.

One, every beating and locked cages she's been through meant death, literally. They taught her, although not directly, that if she didn't have her precious hair and eyes, she would have been dead. Her punishments were spent by sleeping with a pile of shit, eating with dead bodies and other fuckeries she has been through. She's already been killed, many times.

Two, she hadn't learned anything that much. Perhaps she wasn't as smart as she thought she had become. She developed her instinct, her emotions still thankfully intact, and she was alive. There were no names, no equations, no stupid long titles, just lessons learned from experience. She thought that would be a pretty good excuse once she found new people to accept her.

If they would. They could. But maybe, shouldn't---but she won't say that. Being strong and living her life was the best thing she could ever have the chance to learn, even when her fucking blood sources failed to raise her well. They weren't even blood sources, at least not physically! She was number L-1!

The thought made her smile, but not that much. Her cheeks must have been too dry, or maybe too bruised, but she swore there was a slight crack that even the smallest crinkle at the side of her eyes made her get close to tears. So close. But pain had no space in the joy and newly found hope that sored in her heart. She was lying down on the cold concrete, surrounded by disgusting bags of moldy leftovers and dog shit---and she loved it. The smell, the strange sounds of whispering from a distance, the dried up blood on the open wounds on her back, her numb face, prickled hands with a few missing nails---this day was glorious, and at that moment, nothing was more fit to make her feel bliss than being lost and dirty, and alive, in a dark alley in the middle of nowhere.

That's where she found her first home, lasted for at least a few hours. The first place she knew outside of her cages and metal beds. On a pile of trash.

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A common fantasy even for the youngest of audiences, closing their eyes and seeing darkness, and then waking up then after, being surrounded by polished windows, fancy beige walls and soft bed with pillows smooth and as fragrant as leather---but fantasy is fiction. And fiction always stayed fictional for her.

Another thing she learned, heroes won't come to save you unless you do it yourself and give the credit to others. You'd thank the police for taking you out of the hands of a psychopath but deep inside, you know they won't even be given that credit if you did not have the guts to survive a few months or years while they spent their pretty little time arresting the wrong people.

L-1 opened her eyes and the blue sky wasn't there anymore. A bit disappointed, but greatly relieved that no one actually claimed her in all those hours she was unconscious. It means she really was free, and no one is about to take that away from her.

An unexplainable hope pushed her to test her strenght once again; both elbows on the ground with her flattened hands, propped herself up, wincing at the slight sting on her back, but now relieved of some pain and standing with her feet.

Red brick walls. She noticed. Turns out she was thrown in between two abandoned buildings, enough to scare people away that no one even managed to catch sight of her or even if they did, just pretend they saw nothing and ignore the sight as if a dead little girl lying in a dark alley by the trash was too common. It had been hours and people barely walked the streets, lights weren't even enough to help her see the ground she steps on and perfect, for it covers her hideous appearance. Nobody wanted a bloodstained child to take care of, and even more would run away at the sight of the undead.

A few steps gave her so much reason to reconsider her direction. The roads went for miles with different stops and turns and if she wanted to survive her first night outside of hell, then better be sure and steady with the path she was going to take. But thank goodness for her bad sense of direction. Her head turned to the right and caught sight of a sign, carved on old and rusted metal.

Vivien's Aid Orphanage

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Miss Filly literally gasped out unwanted curses at the sight of a dirty girl outside of the wooden doors. That was the first genuine reaction L-1 ever saw in a human. It was not pleasant, but the bath, the meal, the comforting pillows that followed made her want to see exactly the same expression on people's faces once they see her.

Lady Mercia was unhappy, she noticed, because such prestige institution does not accept 'rogues' and 'unwanted peasants' that knocked outside of their door, begging to be pampered without paperwork and extra credit from the department that supports their charity. The girl was unknown---no name, no background---nothing, served any purpose. The middle-aged woman with no children will not accept children without pay.

So one night passed by quick. Her VIP status dropped from top to the gutter but at least she was allowed to stay. With enough bandages to tend to her wounds and some herbal magic, L-1 managed to work full-time with only the promise of shelter and food as her only payment. It was good, really. Better than everthing else she had been through.

In fact, being asked to choose between sleeping with the corpses or washing the dishes, hell, she was not a moron to choose the former. Latter it is, every single time.

She enjoyed her chores, which was unnerving for a child her age, but people do not ask questions, no matter how strange the odds, for no one complains once the work is done for them. Her late night was mostly spent inside a worn out guestroom---her room---watching herself in the mirror and admiring her dark hair, the magnificent eyes with the same color as their sporks, the pale color of her face that remained the same, and the small bruises on her cheeks. She looked normal. Plain. It shook her to bits and she had to control every urge to scream out while letting her tears of joy fall freely.

"Goodnight." Her word was uttered in a small voice---the very first word she managed to freely say without being punished. It had been a few years. Luckily, she already had lots of water to drink earlier that day.

She smiled---barely smiled while looking at her face over the mirror, and slowly, she touched her reflection. "Goodnight..."

"Get down here Scamp!" The shout from downstrairs woke her up from the trance. L-1 didn't talk much and nobody really bothered to ask her name, so Lady Mercia gave her a nickname of her own before she could protest. "You little! Did I let you come to be lazy?!"

"No.." the girl whispered, now struggling to get down the rest of the stairs.

"I thought so! Now, Scamp, go buy me a coffee outside will you? Wait, no. In fact, make it four cups. Four, cups, of sweet sweet latte!" The old woman walked like a duck, she noticed, wearing a long floral skirt and an olive turtleneck tucked inside her belt. Her clothes were always dashing, and L-1 liked the dull contrast of her whitening hair and wrinkled face to the way she always dresses up like a teenager. "Hurry up, you scoundrel!" Lady Mercia talked firmly, dragging the girl down the rest of the stairs with a tight grip on her thin arm.

She hissed and tried to pull away because of the purple bruises on her arm that were yet to heal. "No, please." L-1 never got to use those words when she was inside the demons' den. There were no rights to struggle and now she hoped the woman would give her pity. "Please, ma'am.."

"Shut up! Take this." Two golden coins were slapped on her hand, making her wince again because her palms still had half-closed wounds. "And don't you dare run away, with my money. I swear I'll cut those deeper." She pointed to the girl's cuts.

"Okay.." L-1 nodded silently and went out the doors of the apartment. Her name wasn't registered in any papers because her 'parents' were too eager to sell her in exchange for an amount that could last them two weeks, or two days in lottery. She was worth more than those silvers. L-1 glanced at the coins in her hand while she walked the dark street with only a few broken lightposts flicking a bit of yellow down the road. Mere metals formed into round deceiving decorations.

She was worth more than that. She's worth more than anything people have taken her granted for.

"Hey kid!" The gurgled voice came from a drunk man that was sitting in the dark alley next to the dim-lighted coffee shop."What'cha got there kid?" His slurred words made her feel bad.

"Coffee..For coffee." Her small voice answered. The man laughed and took another chug out of his dirty bottle of gin, his hand had a worn-out glove with ripped stitches.

"Coffee can't help you with nothin' kid." His bearded face seemed to move along with his mouth hidden within the bush of hair. "Why don'tcha gimme those? They ain't doin' nothin' with coffee. I, need to live. That, will make me live."

"No.." L-1 ran away from him and approached the dim lights inside the shop. One young man was cleaning the floor while piling all the chairs on the round tables. He was surprised to see a barefoot little girl with short black hair, wearing an oversized white shirt with dried paint and old crumpled red shorts that reached under her knees. He might have mistaken her for a beggar then and there.

"Uhm, hi. We, are closed, actually.." his chocolate hair fell from his neat brush and decided to continue mopping.

"Four cups of... lattchi.." L-1 fiddled with her coins, thinking if she said it right. The man looked at her again with a smile on his face.

"Oh, a customer?" He placed his mop down and wiped his hands over the apron tied around his waist. "Come here sweetheart."

He moved behind the counter and started brewing, the monitor that was supposed to show the menu was now turned off. L-1 looked confused as he placed each cup on the tabletop. "Lattchi?"

"Latte." The man corrected her with a smile, now squinting to get a better look at the girl who only watched the cream's heart pattern on top of the cup while putting her coins on the counter. "I'm Yosef. You are?"

"Scamp." She answered immediately, thinking that whatever name was given to her was the first she had. Her eyes lowered on the ground as she remembered how she watched a happy family from the windows of her room earlier that day.

Yosef's eyes widened. "Oh, my, god.." his face looked really horrified and amazed at the same time, L-1 did not know if it was the same as Miss Filly's reaction when they first met, and compared to how she looked on her first day in the city, this face was far more decent. The drunk man outside looked worse, surely this is not new to him? "Oh my god child!"

He ran inside the door behind him, completely leaving her standing alone next to the counter, inside a silent coffee shop, with an unfinished order while the brewing machine continued to work. To say that she was clueless is an understatement.

"Here! She's---look at her!"

"You gotta lay off that giddy caffeine. Sneaking in the pantry and---" the woman stopped and looked at the girl, her eyes widening and ran to the mysterious child with impressive speed. "Oh my gosh. Oh my gosh!" The woman held L-1's shoulders tightly while kneeling in front of her.

"I know right?! Is this real---?! O-or what---it can't be right?!"

"She looks normal. She is---but no, you see the aura right?" The two members of staff looked completely ruined while she just staired at the three cups of coffee. I still need one lat---latte.

"I sense it! It wasn't really there a while ago, just came out after she payed!"

"Shit shit shit!"

"Can I, uhm, latte?" L-1 asked shyly. The two stopped and the woman hugged her. The cold seemed to fade away instantly.

"I got something better for you dear. Believe me. You'll get everything you deserve."

Everything seemed like a blur after that. Nothing's new. She always looked at a certain catchy object and just get lost in a trance, simply looking at it and reminiscing everything thst happened to her. There were no happy memories no matter how hard she tried every time. But this, might just be one she had been wishing for so long.

Salvation.

As they carried her like she weighed nothing and took her inside their car, she knew she was doomed. Those cups of coffee weren't delivered and the last thing she wanted was for Lady Mercia to use 'thief' as an endearment and spit at Miss Filly's face, saying 'I told you so!', because she maybe Scamp, but she was worth more than their low expectations.

"Wait! No!" L-1 struggled from the seatbelt and slapped the tinted windows. "No! No! Stop--no!" She punched repeteadly, switching her gaze between the two and the view outside. "The latte!"

"Oh? Well, you're going to a better place now." The woman who introduced herself as Crisanta elbowed Yosef.

"You make it sound like she's gonna die." She hissed while pinching the side of his stomach. He flinched away.

"Aaaaw! Stop it!"

"Get her orders!"

"What for? We're leaving anyway."

"Well, sweety, what's your name?" Crisanta gave her a charming smile. "You don't have to be afraid of us."

"I'm... Scamp." She fidgeted uncomfortably under their surprised gaze. 'L-1' did not really sound appealing because names aren't meant to have numbers.

"Uhm. No, we're not calling you that." Yosef scratched his hair and opened the door. "Stay here, I'll get your orders."

A moment of silence followed, with the beautiful Crisanta watching her, not bothering to fix the strand of golden hair that escaped from her pins. "Who gave you that name?"

"Lady Mercia." She quickly answered, pointing at the orphanage behind them. "Yesterday."

"Yesterday? How long have you been in the orphanage?"

L-1 thought for a moment. "Since yesterday."

Yosef eventually went back with the four cups neatly lined in a pretty box with a simple logo named 'Golden' then he knocked on the windows from outside the car. "Hey, where do I take these?"

She once again pointed at the orphanage behind them. Crisanta and Yosef looked at each other as if having a mental conversation, while their eyes glowed beautifully. His being silver and hers as vibrant gold as her hair.

'Give her guardian the perfect goodbye gift' L-1's eyes widened as she heard Crisanta's voice in her head and she can't be mistaken. Now the question was if that was real. Looking back at the woman in front of her who still stared directly into the eyes of her companion.

'A delivery for Lady Mercia am I right? What does she look like?' Yosef's voice actually answered back inside her head. Simply listening to them without them knowing, it was a miracle none of them heard the questions in her head.

'An old hag I suppose. Seen that witch a few times from across the street.'

'Okay gotcha!' Yosef saluted and walked away. Crisanta was smiling sweetly as she pulled a small book out of her bag from the driver's seat.

"Is it okay if I give you name samples? You could choose which one you like most."

"M-Mark---Marchion." The woman stopped to see the girl who seemed unsure of her own words.

"Marchion?" Crisanta though of what the girl said as 'Mar-ki-yon'. "Like marchioness? It's Marchion, not with a Mark. Is it spelled like this?" She wrote fast and showed it.

L-1's eyes brigthened and nodded excitedly, surprised at how Crisanta knew the word that got her attention when she first saw it in a storybook owned by one of her fellow orphans. 'Marchioness' sounded like it was meant for someone special, and it just rolled off her tongue smoothly---she liked it. Although she didn't say it right the first time.

"Wow, then, okay! Marchion Larcus it is!"

"Larcus?"

That night was strange indeed, but strange always had new beginnings ahead, and Marchion loved her new name. It was hers, because she chose it herself. She liked this more than being born without having a say on whatever she wished to have. Crisanta gave her the best smile she had ever seen, and Yosef just gave her the first ever memory to make her smile just the same.

An image of Lady Mercia holding a single cup in one hand, the rest of the coffee was spilled all over her while she screamed her lungs out at the car hurriedly driving away with a laughing Yosef running to jump inside.

___end of Chap II___