Maria_madalena
Madalena’s fragile heart shattered into pieces so vanishingly small and incisive that she never accomplished to join them again. There were days when she wanted to close her eyes forever, achieve the quiet and eternal peace that only the belief that Nicole would not follow her into hell could provide. She was so naïve, trusting and relying on her half-sister. At the first opportunity, Nicole ripped her delicate heart and trampled it till nothing was left. This was exactly the kind of suffering that Madalena could not endure. If only she had not given her heart to a soulless creature, she could still be happy.
The young woman was sitting on her office, it was almost dawn and her cup was as empty as ever, but not as empty as the decrepit heart that was still beating in her chest. Every time that she spiraled to the bottom of a bottle, perhaps two or three, she could feel her rational thought escape through her fingers, and tonight it was no exception. When there was nothing left besides the atrocious pain that consumed and choked her, her empty chest harbored a single desire.
Her dagger was lying next to her cup and, absently, Madalena was caressing the blade’s edge with her index finger, wishing she could slide the blade by the white and soft skin of her half-sister’s neck. Moans of pleasure filled the air around her, muffling the cry that mercilessly shook her thin body. How nice it would be if she could merge her suffering with someone else’s pleasure, but there is no physical touch capable of heal her wounds.
Suddenly, she grabbed the cup and threw it against the wall. Glass fragments piled up randomly across the plush and red carpet and, for a moment, Madalena saw herself, so damaged and hollow. She shook her head, trying to erase the thought, as she wiped her tears to the dress’s sleeves, not daring, not even one more time, to contemplate the shattered mess. That night everything would change.
Determined, Madalena sheathed her dagger and collected her meager belongings. A few moments later, her body was wrapped in a dark cloak and the harlot left behind the most famous brothel of the Kingdom of Portugal, Casa da Babilónia. As usual, a carriage was waiting for her.
Eduarda was sleeping peacefully when Madalena entered. The red hair of the youngest Casterwill was spread across the white pillow, a discrete smile on her full lips. Impulsively, the harlot approached the little girl and placed a hand on her angelic face, stroking it lovingly.
“Eduarda.” She called softly.
_________________
The young woman was sitting on her office, it was almost dawn and her cup was as empty as ever, but not as empty as the decrepit heart that was still beating in her chest. Every time that she spiraled to the bottom of a bottle, perhaps two or three, she could feel her rational thought escape through her fingers, and tonight it was no exception. When there was nothing left besides the atrocious pain that consumed and choked her, her empty chest harbored a single desire.
Her dagger was lying next to her cup and, absently, Madalena was caressing the blade’s edge with her index finger, wishing she could slide the blade by the white and soft skin of her half-sister’s neck. Moans of pleasure filled the air around her, muffling the cry that mercilessly shook her thin body. How nice it would be if she could merge her suffering with someone else’s pleasure, but there is no physical touch capable of heal her wounds.
Suddenly, she grabbed the cup and threw it against the wall. Glass fragments piled up randomly across the plush and red carpet and, for a moment, Madalena saw herself, so damaged and hollow. She shook her head, trying to erase the thought, as she wiped her tears to the dress’s sleeves, not daring, not even one more time, to contemplate the shattered mess. That night everything would change.
Determined, Madalena sheathed her dagger and collected her meager belongings. A few moments later, her body was wrapped in a dark cloak and the harlot left behind the most famous brothel of the Kingdom of Portugal, Casa da Babilónia. As usual, a carriage was waiting for her.
Eduarda was sleeping peacefully when Madalena entered. The red hair of the youngest Casterwill was spread across the white pillow, a discrete smile on her full lips. Impulsively, the harlot approached the little girl and placed a hand on her angelic face, stroking it lovingly.
“Eduarda.” She called softly.
_________________
