Note: I'm new, so please don't judge my writing skills. Constructive criticism is welcomed, though! Fairy Tail and Rave Master belong to Mashima Hiro, and The Fall of the House of Usher belongs to Edgar Allen Poe. This story is a modern AU, and the plot belongs to me. Please enjoy!
IF THERE WAS ONE THING Lucy Heartfilia believed in, it was love.
Her life was like a comedy, only, with too much tragedy. I love you, Lucy, her mother had whispered, seven years ago. Seven years ago—she had been nine years old and motherless, wondering why her father wouldn't look at her. She had been nine years old, and there was a hole in her heart.
Seven years ago, Lucy would sit on a stool in her father's study and watch him work. He would type on his computer, take notes in his book, and sip tea from his mug—all without glancing once at his nine-year-old daughter. At noon he would go out for lunch, and as he brushed past her, she would call after him, I love you, father! But he never once answered her. She had been nine years old, and it had hurt so, so much.
Six years ago, Lucy would come back from school covered in mud and bruises. She had been ten years old, and her classmates hated her. What a loser, and I heard that her father's a millionaire! She's too quiet. She has a hunched back! Why does she smile like that? She is so weird. Her clothes are ugly and old styled. She doesn't belong here! She should just get lost! No one understood how much it hurt to be different. Only the servants who waited for her with open arms cared enough to comfort her. They would cry with her, talk with her, read with her, laugh with her—and best of all, they were there for her. She was ten years old, and they loved her.
Five years ago, she would sit in her bedroom and stare out the window. She didn't want to go to the hell known as school. After all, no one there cared to understand her. They simply ridiculed her because she was different. It wasn't fair! Why couldn't she have lived normally and happily? Did he, her very own father not love her? Whenever she had asked this, the servants would smile warmly at her. Oh, of course he loves you. She had been eleven years old, and she didn't believe it.
Four years ago, she had realized that perhaps, perhaps she was beautiful. She never had resembled her father—no, it was her mother whom she took after. She would look into mirrors and ask herself, Am I beautiful? Now would he love me? Once, and only once, she had asked her father. No, you aren't beautiful. And Lucy cried. She had been twelve, and she was alone.
Three years ago, she had glimpsed a flash of brilliant white on the school bulletin board. It was a live theatre poster—The Fall of The House of Usher. Based on a short story by Edgar Allen Poe of the same name. Haru Glory as Roderick Usher, Hamrio Musica as the Narrator, and Mirajane Strauss as Lady Madeline. None of the names held any meaning to Lucy, but a glance of their faces had been enough. Mirajane Strauss was a perfect young lady; she had lovely white hair, delicate pale skin, and warm blue eyes. There was not a single girl in Lucy's class who did not idolize and envy Mira for her looks and fame, but Lucy had seen someone she couldn't understand. Why does she smile like that? Why is she so happy? I wish I knew why. But there had been a glow in Mira's eyes that said it all: No, it's not that I have had a happy life. Because I have suffered, I have matured—that is why I can smile. And in that instant of understanding, Lucy had learned to love herself. She was thirteen, and she could smile.
Two years ago, Lucy would walk in the woods far, far away from the constraints of her home and school. There would be no prying eyes waiting to demean her and no meddling tongues ready to spread rumors; she could laugh freely, she could talk freely, she could cry freely. She had been at peace. She was fourteen, and she had a friend. Plue would not judge nor ridicule. He was her sunshine in her darkest and saddest moments. I love you, just the way you are. Lucy had been happy. She was fourteen, and life was beautiful.
One year ago, her life had changed. She had turned fifteen, and had been no longer able to stand the pain. You are so weak, to be afraid of being bullied! Had he ever loved her? Would he ever? Why would I? That had been it. Papa, I'm sorry. Lucy hadn't shed a single tear as she boarded the train. She wouldn't cry. She was fifteen, and she had started life anew.
Today, Lucy turned sixteen, and she believed in love.
A/N: Please leave a comment! This is my first story, so if some parts didn't flow very well, I'm sorry. This is currently a one-shot, but someday I might write a story based on this. Thanks for reading!
