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xoxo.

Chapter 25.

Brookelle/Belle.

When I was born, my parents cried because I was blind, not because they felt sorry for me, but because I was just a disappointment. I was the first abnormal child in the line of incest.

They spent a lot of money to get my eyes fixed, but to no avail. They had to accept and work with the fact that I would never be able to see.

My mother tried to kill me in the bathtub twice and my father was able to save me both times and convince her the advantages of being blind, such as, how no one would think I'd be capable of murder.

…

When I was alone with only the workers in the house to watch over me, I played in the oversized garden. The maids were supposed to be looking after me, but I guess they were taking a break at the time, or maybe I wandered off, too far for them to see.

The next thing I know I'm in a cold room, bloodied and beaten with tear-stained cheeks. "We want 1 billion US dollars and then you can have your daughter back, the longer you wait, the more she'll suffer…" they threatened through maybe a phone or video or something.

After a couple of days of being tortured by the kidnappers, they put me in a cardboard box and shipped me off back to my parents, with only very little breathing holes. They said, if I had spent just a few more moments in that box I would have died.

It was traumatic and I don't remember most of it, because I was only 4 when it happened, but I know I went to the hospital with serious injuries.

I was the media's biggest story for a while, partly because of how the daughter of billionaires was kidnapped and the other part is because no one knew I existed until then. They didn't have much to go on, except for a name, so everyone soon forgot about the whole incident and eventually me. My parents used a lot of money to erase my name and the family's from all of the media, but you know the saying, 'once it's on the internet, it's there for good.'

…

My parents sent me away for three years, and I lived with caretakers on the other side of the planet. I didn't have contact with my family the entire time I was gone. They thought it was best, so people couldn't track me down.

I went to a normal school with a new name and dyed hair, but because I always had two security guards next to me at all times I made no friends. I also didn't understand the language and therefore had no way of communicating with people.

"Miss," one of my security guards asked as I sat alone in the cafeteria. I acknowledged him, "would you like me to ask someone to sit next to you?"

I shook my head with a smile, "no, thank… you," I lied, my speech broken and stuttered.

Someone came up to me and handed me an invitation. I knew roughly what she said, something about her birthday and a sleepover. My security guards read it out for me, translated, and I was eager to go. Of course, I told my guards not to come with me and for once, they were okay with it. They wanted me to make friends.

Nobody.

It had only been a few hours after they had dropped her off before the security guards received a phone call for her to be picked up early. "Can y-you pick… me up, ple-ase?" Her voice asked desperately and shakily through the phone.

"Is something wrong, Miss?"

"Ca-n you just… please come, please?" When they picked her up, they were horrified and a sharp pain went through both of their hearts. Her long hair was cut awkwardly and there were even some bald patches.

The men argued with the parents of the birthday girl, but Belle dragged them away from the house, wanting so badly to just leave the place. "Are you okay?" One of them asked as they opened the door of the car.

"Can we, uhm, lea-ve, pl-please?"

"Yes, we'll take you to a salon immediately."

The hair cutters had a bit of a difficult time trying to figure out how to style her hair without shaving it all off, but they managed.

Her hair was so short; her classmates called her a boy for the rest of the year. She was given more invitations, but after the first one the guards mistakenly read aloud, they checked the letters before reading it to her, because they often said: "you're not invited" with small messages around the invite calling her pitiful names.

One day, as the driver came to pick her and her two security guards up, she burst into tears. The people in the car had no idea what to do, so they stayed silent.

Brookelle/Belle.

We were to go up in front of the class and read a short story to the class. I sat there already nervous and I haven't even been called upon yet. I had practiced all of yesterday for this. Right before presenting a girl who sat next to me leaned over and told me things that were unnecessary and unnecessarily loud, dragging the attention of many, many people.

"Brookelle," the teacher called me.

I stood up from my seat gripping onto my brailed piece of paper. My nails dug right through the paper. "Uhm, Once-"

"Brookelle, please wait for everyone to be silent." I waited. "Alright, now you may begin."

"Oh- uhm," I slid my finger across the paper, "once upon a t-time… there… lived… a… p-prince…ess… she… uhm," my voice was shaking so much I could barely speak, let alone read. "She…" I put down my paper to take in a deep breath, "she, uhm… I…" I bit my lip, "can I go… t-to the… bathroom?" I asked my teacher.

"Mhm, yeah."

I left and never came back, my pride completely gone and I felt incredibly stupid.

Nobody.

It was hard for the little girl to say goodbye to her caretakers, and visa versa, but it had to be done. They both knew they'd never see each other again. After three years growing up with them, she considered them her family, for she couldn't remember her real one.

They had dyed her hair back to her natural colour before she arrived back in her mansion. Her parents and her brothers greeted her at the house, but those last three years overseas have changed her, it shut her down, she could no longer genuinely show her emotions and had an even difficult time speaking.

…

"This is your sister," Logan Strice told his sons.

She stood their rather awkwardly, with her head down and her hands fiddling in front of her. "Be nice to her," their mother warned the two, looking at her expensive watch, "we have business to attend to, so don't do anything stupid. Goodbye, boys… and Belle."

"Goodbye, Belle," their father patted her head gently.

She smiled shyly and whispered a goodbye.

Once they were gone it was just the three of them and the butler near the door. Baxter circled Belle and she could feel his presence. "So, you're my sister?" He asked with a mischievous smirk. "They said we're identical."

"Uhm…"

Boa rolled his eyes, "Baxter, stop scaring her."

Baxter stopped right behind Belle, his chest just barely touching her back as he leaned forward, his lips on her ear. "Are you really my twin?"

She paused to analyze her situation. "You tell me. You're the one with eyes, aren't you?" Her voice flowed naturally talking to him. In an instant, they both knew they had a special and dark connection.

"I don't know, am I?"

She turned her head to face him and glared at him hard, "yes."

Baxter smiled and hugged her from behind, "I like you," Belle smiled. Baxter's eyes moved to look at Boa, who seemed jealous, and his smile turned into a smirk.

Brookelle/Belle.

While my brothers trained with my father in the basement, I stayed with my mother in the living room. It's only been a month since I've been back with them and my mother has been teaching me manners and etiquette and later I'd go to speech therapy.

I slouched on the couch, "sit up straight," my mother scolded. I straightened my back, knowing not to argue with her, she touched my back to straighten a particular part of my back and tilted up my head, "fix your hair, it's a mess." I patted down my hair and combed through it a couple times with my fingers, it only reached my shoulders.

"Can you walk for me?" My mother asked, I obeyed. I stood up, extending my cane, "without the cane," she added.

"Uhm, but m-m-mummy, I, uh, ca-n't… see," I reminded the obvious.

I could hear the bitter and sour facial expression she had, "just do it." I put down my cane and walked a couple of steps. "Keep you head up," she reminded me, "and straighten you back."

I did what she said, "uhm, is… this better?"

"Don't talk with such attitude."

"I di-dn't have an… attitude," I retorted.

"Don't talk back to me."

"I wasn't, I-I jus-" a sharp pain came across my face and my head whipped to one side.

"Don't talk back to me," my mother grouched.

"I'm sorry-" I was hit again.

"Don't speak."

"But I-" Once more.

"What did I just say?" She shouted, "I don't want you to speak in front of me." I nodded, she cursed in English and let out a sharp and angry sigh, "just, wash up for dinner." I took my cane and left without a word.

…

"Now, introduce yourself," the lady told me.

"Uhm, I… My name… is Broo-Be-Belle," I told her, stuttering and fearing punishment or laughter.

"Again."

"What?" I squeaked out.

"Pardon me? Or Can you repeat that?" She corrected my choice of words.

"Oh, sor-ry," I told her.

"Now, introduce yourself again."

"Oh, uhm. My name.. it's Br- Belle."

"Again."

"My na-me is Brookel- Belle."

"Again."

"My name is B-Belle."

"Again."

"My name is Belle."

"Again."

"My name is… My name is Belle."

"Again."

"My name is Belle."

"Again."

"My name is Belle."

…

They locked me in a closet. I banged on the door, horrible, awful, disgusting memories flooding and flashing back in me. "Stop! St-op! Let me… out! P-Please!" The door opened and I fell out.

"Calm down, it's just a game."

…

When I turned 10, I murdered my first victim.

…

They say I talk even less.

They say I'm cold.

They say I've gone mad.

I think I've improved into a better human, but they think I've become inhuman.

…

Boa was caught murdering a family. I think he did it on purpose, there's no way he would have gotten caught unless it was a stupid mistake. There's no way any of us could get caught at all, our trainings are so strict and thorough that it's almost impossible for any of us to make a mistake.

…

My parents became stricter with us. They didn't allow us to 'hunt' whenever we wanted anymore and wouldn't let us go by ourselves either.

…

I overheard my parents speaking to a man named Mr. Morebucks; "…you should stop her trainings, if Boa can make a mistake, then so can your daughter."

"She's very careful," my mother started sharply, "out of the three, she's the one who wouldn't slip."

He cleared his throat out of annoyance, "I don't know. She's not fit to be one of us, and it's useless to continue with her trainings," he then turned the conversation to my twin, "I really like that Baxter boy, I expect great things from him."

"Certainly, he's exactly like our daughter, but a…" They couldn't think of a nice word.

"Better version?" The man suggested.

"Something like that," my mother agreed.

"He's mentally stable and his skills are outstanding," my father bragged.

The man laughed, "he's going to be wonderful addition to the order..."

"They don't actually think I'm better than you," a voice quietly said from behind me.

"Why wouldn't… they?" I asked in the same volume.

"Why would they?" He replied back.

I paused, annoyed at how similar we are, "well," I started, "it's not a b-bad thing."

…

"Yeah, there's this girl named Blossom who's so fucking annoying," the girl named Princess complained, trying to seem cool by using curses.

"Why? What d-id she do?"

"She's just so annoying. She gets all the good grades and she's always flirting with the boys and getting them to do whatever the fuck she wants."

"She does sound…" I couldn't find the English word for it.

"Like a bitch? She is."

"Are you going to do something about it?"

"I asked daddy to buy the company her father works at so I can threaten her with it."

I laughed, "th-that's low. Even for you."

"Hey, I can do whatever I want. I can even tell you what to do," she huffed.

I laughed again, "what are you talking about? No, you can't. "

"Of course I can, your parents work for mine," she reminded.

"That's true," I told her, "what would you have me do?"

"I'd make you my personal maid, but you know, since you're blind… I wouldn't want someone like you to serve me. You're better off just being my best friend."

I almost punched her at that point, "I wouldn't be a very good maid otherwise. I'd have no idea how to… clean or whatever." I panicked near the end, not really knowing where this was going and I basically just repeated what she had said, so I quickly ended my sentence.

She laughed, "we're too rich to do peasant things." I nodded in agreement.

"Belle, dinner's ready if you want to eat with Mitch, Boa and I."

"Hey, Baxter," Princess said with this flirtatious voice.

"Uh, hi," he said before leaving.

I got up to leave the room and Princess followed. "What are… you doing?" I asked her, suppressing and hiding my anger.

"What? Your brothers are hot," she told me.

"Hot?" I tapped my way down the stairs.

"Good looking," she said.

I glared my eyes. "Don't flirt with… them," I threatened.

"Or what?" She asked stopping at a step and so did I.

"I'll kill you."

She scoffed, "as if."

"You're a slutty bitch, you know that."

"At least I'm not in love with my brother."

Heat rose up my cheek, "I'm not in l-lo-ve with them. I'm just… close with them." I felt awkward saying the word 'love', the word felt completely foreign and stupid to me, even if I did say it in my native language.

"Ugh, you're disgusting just go," she pushed me hard enough for me to lose my balance and I fell down the rest of the stairs landing really badly on my arm. I winced in pain. Princess screamed, sounding absolutely horrified, "oh my god! Oh my god! Belle!" I heard her rush over to me and I heard other rushing footsteps.

"Oh shit, Boa! Baxter!" I heard Mitch scream for my brothers, before kneeling down to examine my arm. I bit my lip to stop the tears from flowing. It felt numb, yet excruciatingly painful. I used my other hand to graze across my arm and found that it was bent in an awkward angle.

I screamed.

"Holy shit!" Boa called the butlers to take me to the hospital and I was in a cast for 8 weeks.

Nobody.

The Strice family sat in front of the fireplace on the cold winter evening. It was the only source of light and it illuminated beautifully against their skin. Anja Strice sat on the burgundy couch directly in front of the fireplace while Baxter was on the cushioned chair, that matched the couch, closer to the fireplace, reading a book. The daughter of the Strice family sat on the floor, her mother brushing her hair with a comb. "Mummy," the little one said, "will daddy come b-back today?"

"Yes, he'll be here soon."

The double doors opened and their father, Logan, entered the dark room, behind him was a butler who carried two boxes, both of different sizes. "Daddy," the girl smiled, standing up and extending her arms out.

"Belle," he lifted the small girl up and hugged her.

"Welcome home, father," Baxter nodded and Logan returned the gesture as he put his daughter down. He then went over to Anja and gave her a peck on the cheek.

"I brought presents from Egypt," Logan said, signaling for the butler, who carried the boxes, to come over. He handed Baxter the smaller box and Belle the longer one. The two unwrapped their presents, Baxter received a beautiful white dagger with stunning engraved designs on its handle.

"Thank you, it's beautiful," Baxter analysed the dagger, pulling it out of it's leather case.

The Strice daughter opened hers, she felt it, it was a black cane with a crystal on top, her father went over to her, "if you pull it here, it becomes a sword."

She felt it, the blade was extremely sharp and she easily sliced her skin, but she didn't even know she did it, because she didn't feel anything, "thank you, daddy," she smiled.

…

Loud noises were heard from the basement. Baxter bravely went down to investigate, he was horrified by what he saw; his younger twin sister was locked in a cage that she barely fit in while sitting. She was screaming with tears running down her face, she kicked and gripped the bars that trapped her, desperately trying to escape.

Baxter ran over to her, but was grabbed by the wrist and yanked back roughly. He viciously turned, meeting the eyes of his father, his mother next to him. "What are you doing to her?" He yelled.

"It's for her own good," he responded calmly.

"Why? What did she do to deserve this?"

"Do you want to be in that cage?"

"No."

"Then I suggest you stop asking questions," his father told him with such confidence and threat that it shut Baxter up. Baxter looked at his tragic sister before turning to glare at his father. He snatched his wrist out of his hands and left upstairs.

His father put two men to guard the doors, making sure their daughter didn't come out and Baxter didn't go in.

After a couple days the screams stopped and their father and Baxter went to check on her. She sat in the cage, her knees propped up, back against the cage bars and hands in front of her. Her head was tilted slightly, skin pale, hair in front of her face and tear stained cheeks. She had dried blood on her hands and there was some on the bars that kept her in. She looked dead.

Logan squatted down to her level, "I'm sorry, daddy," she whispered, not moving from her position, "I'm sorry I tried to kill you." He simply stood up and started to walk away, Baxter was at first confused with his actions, but then his sister suddenly started screaming again, clawing between the bars. He now understood the reason she was kept locked up.

When they went back upstairs, Baxter asked, "for how long will she be in there?"

His father shook his head, "for however long it takes for her to forget everything."

Brookelle/Belle.

I picked up the house phone, dialing three numbers. It rung twice before a lady answered, "what's your emergency?"

A cold laugh escaped me and I whispered into the phone, "I just killed my family," as I licked the blood off my sword.

"I'm sorry?" The voice asked in panic, "what did you say?"

Before I could answer, someone took the phone out of my hand and hung up. "I killed the others."

I smiled. He took my hand and licked my fingers, sucking on it then put his lips to mine. He shoved the blood into my mouth with his tongue. When we pulled apart from each other I nodded my head and with that he left.

Nobody.

It took a bit for the police to get to the Strice family mansion because it laid on the top of a mountain, deserted from civilization; but eventually the police climbed over the gates of the mansion and kicked open the enormous double doors. They scrambled around the house, looking for any living souls, for the people who worked in the house were already murdered.

They slammed open the doors to the dining room, horrified. Chairs were thrown and tossed over, broken glass, vases and plates, silverware and uneaten food scattered the floor. Blood splattered parts of the room. The Strice family's daughter sat on top of the end of the long table on the opposite side of where the police entered, her back facing them. She had blood on her clothes and in her hair. Corpses lay under her dangling feet, as she licked blood, that wasn't hers, off of her.

Their guns aimed directly at her. A malicious yet cheerful laugh came from her lips as she turned her head to face them, smiling sweetly. She had this cold dead look in her eyes and a single tear ran down her cheek, "hello, my name's Brookelle, it's nice to meet you."

So, I guess you all have been waiting very patiently for this chapter and why Belle turned into Brookelle. And if you still don't understand yet, she has PTSD which I have shown some of the symptoms throughout this story.

Thank you for being so supportive! You're almost done, but I've been adding a few chapters in as requested by some of you.

We'll be seeing a bit more Reds in the next chapter.

xoxo.