Warning: Contains explicit content including abuse of a minor
A whore who had been impregnated once before was expecting once again. Her son, who already was of the age of five. He was young, but large. He was much larger than the average five-year-old boy. When his mother brought him a young infant, he grew protective of the baby girl. Cisel, that's the name that was given to her. The infant.
They didn't have the same father, but their mother was the same and they were siblings. When Cisel was five and her brother was ten, he would walk her through the streets of Bree. Both had been born and raised in Beggar's Alley, neither ever leaving Bree. Though they did dream of a day they could run away from the city and see the places they heard about from the other beggars down Beggar's Alley. Cisel's brother showed Cisel many of his favorite spots. Every night at sunset, the two sat on top of the roofs and watched the night sky display their sparkling lights. Though then her mother interfere one night when Cisel was twelve and took Cisel away from her brother.
A man stood in an old abandoned house right outside of Beggar's Alley where Cisel's mother dragged her. He threw a bag of coins to Cisel's mom, confusing Cisel. Who was the man? Cisel never found out who he was or what his name was. She just looked up to her mother, who leaned over and said to Cisel, ‘Just do as the man asks and I'll be here later to take you home.’
'What could the man want with me?' Cisel asked, looking wide eyed at the man, who towered over the little girl. He grabbed her hand, yanking her to a pile of blankets scattered across the floor. When he gripped Cisel's shirt, attempting to rip it off, Cisel kneed him and tried to run. He grabbed her, lifting her from the floor and threw Cisel into the wall, letting her drop to the floor and look up at him in fear. He pulled a whip from his belt, one he more than likely used while working on the farm. Cisel at least assumed that much, from the muddy fingers and hardened glare. As if the glare of a man who spent long hours plowing the field.
His voice was hard when he said angrily, ‘Up, you fecking wench.’
Cisel couldn't move, her fear of the man petrified her as she laid on the ground. His temper was lost, and he grabbed her. He slammed her face first into the wall and tore away her shirt, letting the torn cloth fall to the ground. With the whip, the man pulled back, letting it crack onto the little girl's back. The leather of the whip cut deep into her flesh, and blood seeped out. The entire time the man yelled at her about respecting the orders of her mother. Cisel fell to the ground in a small pool of blood, and the man let his whip drop to the ground.
A cruel smile formed over his mouth, ‘Now, ye will do as I ask, little lassy.’
The night seemed to wear on for centuries to Cisel. Finally, morning came and Cisel's mother came like she promised. She took the bloodied, violated Cisel to a little house where an old lady lived. The lady washed the blood from Cisel's back as Cisel's mother spoke to her, her voice strong and commanding.
‘You will never speak of what happened to you last night to anyone, not even your brother. Do you hear me?’
Cisel only nodded, too afraid to argue with her mother. She nodded, tears rolling down her cheek. Her mother's expression grew softer as she put her hand on Cisel's shoulder, ‘Trust me, this is all necessary. We are not rich, you have to find some way, if any, to make money.’
Cisel trusted her mother, listening to her words. After her mother took her from the old lady, she took Cisel back to her brother. Cisel didn't tell him, and he never knew she had anything wrong happen. He was left ignorant, and it was blissful to him, but torturous to Cisel. Ignorance is bliss to one, but hell to the other.
Cisel's mother sold her daughter for many nights. Each night was worse than the last to Cisel, but the memory of the whip from her first night made her to afraid to fight back. Of course, after each night, Cisel's mother reminded her that it was all to make money, without her doing that, she'd starve. Cisel believed her, but it did not make Cisel hate the nights any less.
Finally, one day, Cisel's brother's curiosity drove him to ask her what she and her mother did those nights. He wanted to assume their mother only taught Cisel how to beg for food, but deep down he dreaded the truth. Tears filled the young girl’s eyes as she recounted the experiences she endured and the expression on his face darkened. In the darkness of the night, Cisel sat back in the corner of their small tent as she watched her brother press a knife to their mother’s throat, covering her mouth with his hand. Their mother awoke, trying to sit up or shout, but her own son prevented her from doing either. His words were cold and harsh, speaking to her about her faults and crimes, accusing her of the evilness she held. And then, the knife sunk into their mother's flesh as blood seeped out down her pale skin. Their mother and coughed as her eyes grew empty, her body rigid, and she finally she gone.
Cisel struggled to look at her brother after that night simply remaining diplomatic for their youngest sister Cisses’ sake. After two years of watching her brother come back covered in blood and forcing others to suffer at his hand, Cisel finally confronted him. Rage filled his eyes as he yelled at her. He lunged at her as the two fought on the grimy cobblestone in the worst alleys of Bree, drawing blood from one another. Suddenly warmth oozed out onto Cisel’s hand as it took her several moments to process the sight of her own blade gouged into her brother’s chest. He slopped to his knees and she flung forward to catch you.
Through a strained voice, he wheezed, ‘I failed to protect you, Cisel. I’m sorry little sis. I should have been better for you.’
The warmth of tears welled up in her stinging eyes and her heart plummeted as the fading colour from her brother’s face taught her first important lesson, there is no good or evil in life, only a sea of mundane grey.
