My name is Devannie, though most prefer to call me Deva. I grew up as the unloved shadow among my sisters. I was always the anomaly—the only one gifted, or perhaps cursed, with long crimson hair and strange, transparent pupils that defied the ordinary. Though my beauty was undeniable, it served only to attract unwanted attention, forcing me to live my life hidden behind a mask.
Perhaps it was this difference that made me a pariah. While my siblings were permitted to study and flourish, I was relegated to the house, performing tireless chores from dawn until dusk. Every day was a cycle of labor with no one to speak to. My only solace was the mysterious man who visited my dreams. He was my sole companion, the only one who truly saw me. Sometimes, I found myself wishing I would never wake up, for the only way to find him again was through the gates of sleep.
Love was a luxury I was never afforded. I was fed once a day, and my heart ached with a rhythmic, hollow pain every time I watched my mother. To others, she was gentle and kind, but toward me, she became a different person entirely—cold and unreachable.
I worked myself to exhaustion, hoping that if I were helpful enough, they might finally notice me. But as the years passed, my efforts bore no fruit. I became nothing more than a tool to them; they vented their frustrations on me when they were angry and completely erased me from their minds when they were happy.
Slowly, my human senses began to dull. I felt myself fading, becoming accustomed to a life of servitude until I nearly forgot I was a person at all. It was only because of the man in my dreams that I didn't lose myself completely.
This mundane cruelty continued until the day I was told to accompany my sister to the city. She claimed she needed my help with a few errands. It was the first time I had ever stepped beyond the borders of our village, yet I felt no excitement. Like a puppet guided by strings, I agreed and followed her into the bustling city.
I never expected my sister, who appeared so innocent to the world, to be capable of such treachery. She hadn't brought me there to help her; she intended to sell me.
We arrived at a dim bar, where I stood silently, listening to the exchange between my sister and her client. I struggled to grasp the full weight of their words, but I understood enough. When the realization hit that I was being traded like livestock, my spirit shattered. I did not struggle; I simply felt that familiar, agonizing ache return to my chest.
The transaction was completed. Without a single backward glance, my sister walked away. I looked down at my hands as two solitary tears escaped my eyes. The pain was unbearable. I was their flesh and blood—their daughter, their sister. Why was I hated so fiercely? Why could they no longer bear the sight of me?
I turned my gaze to the man who had purchased me. He was short, bald, and unattractive. While he didn't look perverted, I was terrified of what he might do if he saw my face. I subconsciously recoiled, my hands flying up to hold my mask firmly in place. However, he merely glanced at me with total indifference.
Relief washed over me as he instructed his men to take me away. Though fear gripped me, I remained compliant, sensing that I was merely being moved to be resold.
I was escorted to a private room. When the man ordered me to enter, my heart raced against my ribs. I obeyed, and the door clicked shut behind me. Strangely, as I stepped into the room, the fear began to dissipate, replaced by a profound sense of familiarity. It felt as though this place belonged to the man from my dreams. I was caught in a whirlwind of emotion—joy that I might finally find someone who cared for me, and the crushing fear that this was all a cruel trick of my imagination.
While I stood there, lost in thought, a man emerged from the bathroom. He wore only a towel around his waist, water droplets cascading from his damp hair down the planes of his muscular chest. He was a sight that would have stolen anyone's breath, but my focus was elsewhere.
My breath hitched. It was him. He was actually the one.