Bela wished that she could have shaken off the headache that followed after she passed out. The sudden blackness had taken her by complete surprise, but when she awoke, the vision of Luana would remain in her mind. It was too precise to be discounted. Too real.

It felt like the maid had been talking with her through a plane of existence that did not exist at all. Then again, it also felt like the Luana she had seen was nothing more than a projection. There would be no answers. No clues to point her in the right direction.

The set of voices that she had heard were also without cause. Ethan…and that other, strange man, whom she did not know.

Why did she hear them all of a sudden? Had it been a simple dream, then she may have ignored it altogether. But the circumstances that caused her to fall under were just as mysterious as the visions themselves.

Why did she unexpectedly fall unconscious?

There was no time right now to answer that question. By the time she had opened her eyes, Malcolm was already there at the foot of her cell. It must have been hours since the pounding in her skull had begun. Her captor stared at her as if she had been dead. The collar that bound her to the ground was detached from her neck, but there still wasn't a way to get out.

She woke up in a stupor, and as surprised as he was, the man was happy to see that his newest toy had not yet been broken. That was when the beating began all over again. It was just like Mabel in her cage. Malcolm had swarmed over Bela before she could even react. That was when she felt the force of his knuckles striking her all across her body. The blonde could barely move in the confined space. He managed to bind her wrists behind her back before she was dragged out across the living room.

This was it, she had thought at that moment. He was about to bring her into his bedroom so that he could rape her. Bela's heart had never beat so fast before – not until then. Her blurry mind, which was still trying to recoup from everything that had happened before Malcolm arrived, and after, struggled with the images of what he would possibly do to her.

She closed her thighs as he led her across the room like a prisoner. It was a comfort measure, more than anything else. An illusion to make herself feel like she could never find his way between them. She realized how utterly powerless she was. The man was strong enough to swing her around like a helpless animal.

Ironic, how she had killed several men that looked like him throughout her life. It had taken no effort at all. She could fling them to the ground with a mere push, but in this world, without her powers, she was the one who was light as air. Malcolm was far from muscular, but what he lacked in size, he made up for in advantage.

It didn't matter how strong someone was. As long as their victim was immobilized, they would always win the fight.

Bela's fears of sexual assault, however, were challenged the moment the two of them moved past the door to the bedroom and into the kitchen. There, he had sat her down on a chair and applied additional bindings to her body. In exchange, her wrists would be freed – only to be strapped back down to the arms of the chair that she now sat in.

The room induced less claustrophobia than her cage, but the blonde still felt no less trapped. She sat there, breathing heavily as she watched him casually stroll about the kitchen and set two plates down on the table.

One for him and one for her.

Her amber eyes locked onto it, only to fixate on his hand as it let go and dragged itself away. She could feel the hunger brewing up inside her. The smell of whatever kind of vegetables and dough that had been placed on the dish was decent enough, but it was nothing to be desired. It had all just been thrown on there together, unlike the neatly made servings that he had set up for himself, which included various other foods.

It was just as intended – she was treated like a dog.

I need to eat.

Malcolm smiled wickedly as he sat down in his chair across from her. The kitchen of this place had been fused with the dining room. It wasn't a large dwelling, to start with, but this space had been sealed off from the rest of the house via a single door. It kept Edith out of the loop, unable to help the blonde in any sort of capacity.

Bela was on her own here.

"You look hungry," he said. "You look tired." That smile would not leave his face. He enjoyed this.

Bela nodded, trying to stay as confident as she could be in the way she spoke, "Yes…I am."

"I thought you weren't going to wake up." He lifted a large container of water that had been placed on the table and used it to pour some into his glass. Bela's eyes drifted over to the sides of her plate. There was no glass for her at all. "For a second, I thought that you had killed yourself."

"I'm here."

The man chuckled under his breath as the stream thinned out and the container was set aside. He brought the glass up to his lips and began to drink, keeping his gaze on her through those circular rims. With a loud swallow, he set the glass down and cleared his throat, before moving to pick up his silverware. The ding of the instruments echoed in Bela's ears as she watched him cut into his meal, hoisting what appeared to be part of a cooked egg up in the air and hovering it over his mouth.

"As I am happy that you are," he said as he took a bite.

Bela wanted to at least get the chance to eat something. She felt like her body had been drained of all its energy. Even if it was something gross, she needed to consume some food. Malcolm was clearly toying with her, depriving her of the most basic necessities. Then again, she wasn't entitled to such things anymore.

The blonde used to enjoy doing the same exact thing to several of the servants whom she had trapped in the castle dungeon throughout the decades. While violent acts of sadism were more suited for Cassandra, the eldest daughter took extra delight in flaunting things that these women did not have.

During the hot summers, she'd hold a jug of water against the bars of their cells, watching gleefully as the girls reached out to have some. Their own desperation overrode their basic common sense. One girl had received a broken hand. Another, some years later, lost three of her fingers for such an attempt.

If they weren't crying from the pain, they would shed tears when she dumped the liquid onto the floor, cackling wildly. She used to love being so cruel because she never understood the impact of it. Bela could only relive those moments as she sat here, tied to this chair, hungry as a starving animal, and being forced to watch her captor do the very same thing.

Focus, Bela! Focus! Remember what Luana had told you in that dream. You need to stay together and do what it takes to make it out of here! Edith is fighting for the very same thing. I can't let her down.

She decided that this would be the moment when she could hopefully talk to this man some more. If she could lower him into a false sense of security, then he would likely underestimate her. There was no telling exactly what kind of reward that would entail, but it was obvious that his current plans were nowhere near peaceful. He wanted to inflict mental damage on her, first and foremost. Physical brutality was likely a secondary measure, even if it happened first.

She understood what kind of tool pain was. It had been used countless times in her past to great effect. Fear was the world's greatest enforcer and it required pain to preach its values. Malcolm wanted her to have faith in his beliefs, and he would send agony her way if she deviated from the path that he wanted her to walk.

"May I…" Bela's bottom lip twitched as she looked down. "May I ask you a question?"

He paused as he chewed on his food, but a second or two later, his teeth were already back to crunching it down. "You may."

She would try to play into his hand, "What can I do to make you happy?"

He hadn't expected anything like that at all. It threw his mind off course, for a bit. She could see the way his eyes motioned all around, only for his brow to squint and he sent his fork back down for another part of the egg to eat. His teeth snagged it off the prongs abruptly, and what followed was a fast and vigorous chewing session.

He spoke with his mouth full, fast, and annoyed, "You need to go through your changes. I have taken in a wicked woman, and by the will of the gods above, I will set her right." He swallowed his food and slammed his fork down on the table. She could already feel her heart jumping again. "You will not think about the life you left behind, do you understand me?!"

His voice was so loud and rageful. She shuddered as soon as his roar was cast out at her, recoiling back into the chair that her wrists could not budge from. This wasn't an act on her part anymore. The way she turned her head away was real. Playing it smart meant remembering that this man could hurt her right now if he wanted to.

Edith had resisted him and he had made the conscious decision to sever her spine. Mabel had gotten her eyes and ears poked out. Who was to say that Malcolm wouldn't do something drastic to her at any given second? She knew nothing about how much of a loose cannon he was.

That was what kept her so afraid.

"I understand!" She replied back, her fingers tensing up against the wood. She peeked at him after a wave of silence befell the room. That was when she could see his eyes once again centered upon her torso. Her body had rotated in such a way that her cleavage became more prominent.

Malcolm was fixated on those pale breasts of hers. He looked like he wanted them even more than the food he had made. Bela could not hear what he was saying to himself. He may have not been saying anything at all. For all she knew, his mind could have been totally cut off, with nothing left but primal instinct in the conductor's seat, ready to drive his train of thought straight into Hell itself.

He was just waiting for the time when he could do everything that he wanted to do to them. If people like Cassandra could revel in the feeling of a bloodied body withering around below them, someone like him would find a thrill in a nude woman, helpless at their mercy. It was little things like that perverted stare that filled the blonde with horror. Her time before the inevitable was getting shorter.

Sooner or later, the worst would come. It wasn't going to get better at all. She only had more misery on the horizon.

Malcolm's eyes tore themselves away as his focus returned. "Good." He stabbed his fork through some more of his food and held it at the side of his plate. "You will succeed where the others have failed. I will ensure that."

What is he talking about, now?

"How will I succeed?" Bela asked. She would quickly learn what a dreadful mistake that was.

One of the spare plates on the table hurtled toward her at a speed so fast that she could not react. The blonde did not even recall him grabbing the ceramic dish before it struck her head. The only thing she detected was the sting of the shattering disc, which preceded the sound of the breaking. Her eyes pressed shut and her head recoiled to the side. There had been a considerable impact somewhere on her face. Parts of her skin lit up more than others, but with her hands bound to the chair, Bela could not lift them to inspect the damage.

He stood from his chair and charged at her, closing in within a second. His hand gripped her by the cheeks, his fingers pressing into them as he tilted her head upward and leaned over her. Malcolm rocked her face around like a doll, and there was nothing she could do about it.

"You did not get permission to ask that question, did you?!" He screamed at the top of his lungs. His voice rippled across her. She could smell the foul odor of his breath at ground zero. Particles of saliva showered her exterior. Malcolm was only inches away.

She pushed the words out through her smushed face, "No."

He let her go with a swift force, throwing her head downwards as he released her. Bela immediately fought to breathe, rattled by the experience. She was still slightly dazed from the impact of the dish Another string of warm trails could be felt at the rim of what remained of her hairline. At least two lines of blood were surely traveling down her forehead as she sat hunched over.

A droplet fell and landed on her lap. Yeah, it was blood.

My head hurts so bad…

Malcolm breathed just as heavily as she did. The man paced around in a circle; mouth open, fists held at the sides of his waist. His left hand rose and caressed his chin. The man was thinking about something, but what? He glared at Bela again, unsure of what to do next. His hand then fell and he cleared his throat, before his shaky forefinger aimed itself at the prisoner in front of him.

"You don't understand anything, do you?"

She only continued to breathe. Crying was tempting, but she held it back. He would go harder if she did.

Malcolm charged at her again, this time, grabbing her by the throat. "Answer me when I speak to you!" They locked eyes as soon as he came to a stop.

Bela pushed out another response, "I do not…" She coughed, feeling her windpipe squeezed tight, "…understand…anything." He let her go, but he did not move. His presence would hover over her as she recovered, listening and watching as she coughed some more.

That was when his glare turned to the scar on her head. He had noticed it before. Countless times, even. But, until now, he had not commented on it. "Why are you so ugly?"

…What?

Bela took another breath as she looked back up at him. "I…" She didn't know what to say to that.

"Why are you missing half of your hair?" He ran his hand through the locks that were left on her scalp, staring at the shaved section in disgust. His jaw hung down, baring his lower teeth in a repulsed scowl. "What kind of life did you live that would make you think it was okay to do that to yourself? Is it the men? Do you feel like less of a woman every time you fuse yourself to one?"

A low whimper seeped through her voice, "I was born like this." He slapped her across the face.

Malcolm's arm froze across his chest as he curled his lips at the young woman before him. He clenched his fist as that hand returned to his side, all while Bela tried to fight against the urge to audibly cry. She was nearing her breaking point, yet again. These insults – targeting things that she could not control – had landed deeper than any punch he could throw.

"Don't lie to me," he warned her.

"I woke up and I was like that," she answered with the most simplified version of her life. He wasn't going to believe anything else besides what he wanted to believe. To him, her appearance was all one big mistake, or at least, that's the way he conveyed it.

The man's actions spoke differently. If she had been as 'disgusting' as he said, he wouldn't have eyed her down as much as he was. Even now, his focus narrowed in on her chest. Bela thought that he was only trying to break her down. Maybe he was turned off by the way her hair and scar looked. She always thought that any man would have been.

To her, it was nothing but a hideous mess. Her mother had said so herself. She wished that she still had her hood on. It would have been the barrier that she needed to mentally stow herself away in a situation like this. As much as she guessed that he was seeking to only diminish her self-worth, Bela could not ignore how hard those words hit.

"You truly bear the mark of a disgraced woman," Malcolm stated as he spat at her feet. "Even with a pure soul, there is nothing salvageable about what you have made yourself into."

I didn't choose any of this! Shut up!

He then made another remark that struck a chord with her, "Even foolish ladies like Edith knew to not mutilate themselves."

Edith never got a choice because of you, you bastard! How dare you say that about her when you were the one who put her here!

Bela whimpered a little louder through her teeth, "Please, just don't hurt me." As angry as she was, it was all going to go nowhere. Her anger flip-flopped into sadness as she was forced to bottle up her reaction to the insults. They absorbed themselves into her soul and damaged it from within. Ethan's remark that she "didn't know anything about love" had sent her off the edge because part of her believed that her appearance was cause to deny her the chance of it at all.

As beautiful as she was, she thought that there was always something wrong with her. Her mother had told them that their looks were reserved for the eyes of a loving parent – not for those of men with their hearts in their hands.

Those scars weren't just a blemish on the daughter's heads. They were a blemish to House Dimitrescu.

Only Alcina was perfect, and as much as Bela wished to be like her one day, She knew that would never be possible. Not with her deformity. To hear it from Malcolm was just…crippling.

"But, you're not listening," he said. "This all would be so much easier if you just listen." Bela's lips parted, ready to say something, but the blonde ended with another whimper. Malcolm could see her cut herself short of speaking, which caused him to smile. "See? That's it! Now, you're getting it. You don't have a voice in this house."

He became highly animated as he waved his arms around in the air, pointing at the walls around them. His eyes expressed a sense of wild glee. The man couldn't have been more excited about her predicament. "This place is where your life ends! If you just listen, you can grow old here. Edith and Mabel didn't get it, you see? You think I want to have to hurt you? No!"

Bela still would not see a single word. She just sat in her chair and looked at him with unease, showing him just how scared of him she was. It was what he wanted to see.

Malcolm continued, "I gave you food!" He pointed down to the plate in front of her. "Look at that! It's all right there! I want you to eat, but I can't feed you if you don't earn it. I can't marry you if you don't earn it. Bela, I have to save you."

His hand reached over and cupped her right cheek. She could just that thumb of his circling around where it was placed. The soft cushion of her flesh molded around the edges of his finger as it spanned across to the corner of her mouth. Malcolm dug it only a little, just enough to wedge his nail between her lips and make contact with the surface of one of her teeth.

Bela felt sick to her stomach. His thoughts channeled deep into his actions. Her body was nothing but an object to her, even if he understood that she had a life of her own. The man had known Edith long before he kidnapped the girl and subjected her to this private hell. After seeing how strong the brunette's spirit was, despite everything that had been done to her, Bela tried to draw as much hope as she could.

After all, Edith had nobody to help her when she had been abducted. Her only company was the man who tortured and raped her, which was nothing short of frightening. Malcolm's will was as sinister as they came. She'd have to endure it, then turn her focus to someone who would build her back up.

Please, just take your hand off me. Argh! I just want him to stop.

Luckily for her, he did just that. Malcolm withdrew his hand and used it to pick up a fork and pierce a small piece of food for her to eat. "Here you go," he said. "Eat up. You're going to need your strength when the time comes."

His words couldn't have been more foreboding. Was he referring to another torturous session of his wicked games? Or, was it the marriage he sought? Even worse, was it what would come after?

It was likely all three, and she dreaded it. It almost made her want to starve to death, but as always, she had no choice. He was the one in control here. Malcolm stuffed the vegetables that he had picked up into her mouth and forced her to chew them. Bela swallowed what had been given, only for the man to prepare more along the way.

She wouldn't be starving to death anytime soon.

.

Back in her cage, Bela held onto her stomach, feeling like she could have thrown up. Malcolm had pushed so much food into her body – more than she could have eaten at the time. She complied, even when it became uncomfortable. Making him angry was just something that she did not want to do.

Malcolm would talk more about the Fabled Ones as he fed her. He wanted her to have a good understanding of these deities and their teachings. According to him, that was what a married woman was supposed to know. She could see where his plan was heading.

He wasn't lying when he told her that he would save her. The only reason that he hadn't killed her yet was because he wanted her alive. He would marry her, but he couldn't do that until she knew what she had to know about his gods. That's why he had tested her. Edith already had the knowledge, so it was likely that he had married her right on the spot. He just couldn't wait to do what he wanted to do to her.

If Bela didn't know the material, he would harm her until she did. She had been reading the book in between talks with Edith. Needless to say, her knowledge was beginning to catch on. He was even impressed when she answered some of his questions correctly during the course of her meal.

However, part of her regretted having done so. She would almost rather suffer the physical harm of his beatings, as opposed to the mental catastrophe that would occur the moment he had her on his bed. She shivered at the thought. It repulsed her.

Malcolm had kept her in his company for what felt like hours. Perhaps, it was. She had no clue. The seemingly endless, mostly one-sided, talks they shared in that kitchen had strained her mental state. He constantly insulted her. Smacked her when she didn't answer on cue. She'd cry tears but not make a sound – all while he grinned.

What kind of life was that? How could she expect to live?

Bela teared up some more as she sat in the corner of her confined space. Edith had dozed off during their time away, but the brunette had been awakened by the rattling of the chain when Malcolm latched that collar around the blonde's neck.

She waited until he stepped out of the room before she'd quietly address the girl beside her, "Do you…want to pray?"

Bela let out some air as she wiped her eyes, not wanting Edith to have to see her the way she was. "No, Edith. Can I just rest?" She dragged the religious book closer toward her. It would at least make it look like she was trying to learn, even though the only thing she wanted to do was sleep her troubles away.

"Of course…Bela."

.

The hours had stretched into the day. Malcolm had become a notable presence throughout what could only be considered the afternoon. With no discernable way to figure out when the night truly came, everyone in the room lived at the mercy of the man's routine.

If he slept for a prolonged period of time, then it was night. If he had fed Bela breakfast, then it was morning.

The blonde was so tired that she could barely keep her eyes open at times. Her headache would not go away and the bright lights of the lanterns only made it worse. She wept into the palms of her hands, wishing that a bullet would just burst through her skull and shut all her lights off. It wasn't the string of hope that Edith had tried to inspire in her. It was the byproduct of unending abuse, and she wanted a way out more than anything else.

For a while, he had been close by, watching her and the other women. The blonde could not find any time to rest, as he continued to pressure her to read from the book. She would have been too fearful to close her eyes for a prolonged period, as he had already caught her once and whipped her back with the end of his belt. The beating went on for at least a solid ten minutes, but again, who was counting?

While he was around, she exhibited a nearly catatonic expression; eyes centered on the book and not a word to be said. When he finally did, she still could not shake the habit. It was like he would return at any moment.

And that he did.

Malcolm would suddenly peek his head around the corner, as if he was checking up on her. Privacy was nothing more than an illusion. A trap just waiting to capture her and rip her to shreds. His mental games extended far beyond those employed in his presence. He kept her on edge without even trying. Bela just wanted to scream, but she'd have to keep enduring it all. She had only been in this house for roughly a day, but it was already too much to deal with.

Between the words she read, all she could think about were the various women she had tortured and how she had come to regret those actions. Their pain trickled down into hers. She could feel their agony in her bones. The way that they looked when she and her sisters entered the room was the same way she and these other women were whenever Malcolm appeared.

Understanding the truth of her actions gave her a new perspective on the world. She thought about the vision of Luana that she had seen, wondering if that was a dream, or if the ghost of the maid was reaching out to her. She had spoken so cryptically. Why?

Was this all just a test, or part of something greater? Luana had mentioned that she might get a chance to save her in the next universe, but what did that mean? There were so many pieces at play here, and she was just one of them. Between this world and the one she came from, Bela wasn't sure what to focus on.

According to Luana, this wasn't about setting things right. Doing so was nothing but a choice. A choice she got to make. Making a choice? Had she ever been able to do so before?

There has to be something after all of this. There just has to be. It can't all end here, can it?

She cupped her hands against her mouth as she cried a little more. Malcolm may as well reenter the room, but she didn't care this time. A person can only take so much, and she was now at the breaking point she had long feared she would reach.

What makes my life any more important than those of the servants? We killed them without merit. They had no dignity. Edith, Mabel, myself – we are all being treated that very same way. Edith could have been one of my cooks. I would have hurt her like I did Luana, but…I can't find myself doing that anymore.

She expelled more tears than she had expected. Her cheeks were soddened with the raindrops of her soul.

She was more than a servant, and when Cassandra killed her, I didn't care. What is wrong with me?

Edith, feeling safer now that Malcolm had not returned, took the opportunity to speak out to the distraught woman beside her, "Talk to me…Bela."

It was a return to an all-too-common occurrence. Bela would be sitting against the back corner of her tiny cage, while Edith would be looking down at her, trying to offer some form of help. How did it get to this? The once-proud daughter of Castle Dimitrescu, reduced to a withering pile of –

No! Stop thinking like that! You were not the noblewoman that you acted like. None of us were.

She did not answer, but like always, Edith kept trying, "Bela, please don't…keep this to…yourself."

"What do you want me to do, Edith? Talk to you?" She momentarily glanced up at her, only to withdraw back into her hands. "It's not helping."

In truth – it was – but Bela subconsciously wanted more than that. All her life, she had never had someone who stuck by her, reaching out to see if she was alright. She had her loving sisters, but the rift that had grown between them over the years changed their dynamic. It had all just been one big competition to win their mother's praise. No prize came without cost, and the cost was their praise for each other.

Daniela still tried to keep their bond going, but she paid the biggest price of them all, which left her even more broken than both Bela and Cassandra combined. The blonde felt so weak in this cage. So useless.

Her youngest sister did not ask for help after what Cassandra had done to her, and she likely suffered even more because of it. Now, the chance was there for Bela to receive what the others should have gotten, but she didn't know how to accept it in full. Kindness like this was a myth.

"Friends help…each other," Edith said.

Friends?

Bela had to get her demons out. Her swirling guilt was reaching a level that she never imagined. It was ready to spill over like a bowl of lava, burning everything inside her to a fiery crisp if she could not contain it. Containment was a form of control, and she had none of that in her.

She'd have to let some of the contents spill. It was the only way to find balance.

"You don't want me as a friend, Edith."

The brunette breathed out an exasperated response, "Why not?"

"You're a devout person, right?" She looked at her. "You went to your church because you wanted to believe in good. You said that Malcolm disguised himself as someone you could trust, but that he was a bad man all along." A hollow laugh escaped her throat as she shrugged off the irony, "It's all around us! Look where we are because of how he is!"

"Bela…I know where…I came from."

"But, you don't know where I came from, do you?"

Edith only gazed at her, awaiting whatever it was that she would be told.

Bela ran her finger across her stray locks of yellowed hair. She could still feel the low breeze of air coursing around her buzzed scalp. Her hood was still down, and so would be the walls that guarded her darkest of secrets. The guilt had begun to rise up in her chest. She felt like she could breathe it out like a dragon's flame.

Maybe it was like lava, she thought. Flames were too fast. They'd burn out in a second. Molten liquid stuck around until it solidified. It could take forever. This was something that had been cooking up inside her for so long. She could feel the heat back when she was with Ethan. Of course he thought of her as a monster.

She was that fire-breathing dragon to him, but she was actually just a volcano, waiting to slowly erupt, even though she didn't want to.

Some of that lava would come out today.

"You don't know what kind of person is sitting down next to you, Edith," Bela's voice was weak with shame as she relived all her cruel acts. "You don't have a single clue as to what I have done to women like you. I told you that I lived in a castle, but it was filled with nothing but blood and death. You think Malcolm is bad? You don't know anything about me."

Edith could not muster much expression with the way her body had been crippled. If she could, she still probably would have kept that emotionless look on her face. Her blue eyes would tell it all, as she did not blink. If she was in shock, then so be it. What other kind of reaction could there be?

Bela elaborated further, "I used to torment all of our servants. I'd beat them. Watch them bleed. Strung them up to metal racks and let my sisters cut them up. I can't even tell you how many I killed, but there is a high number out there, somewhere." She giggled under her breath, but that giggle devolved into a swift whimper at the very end. Her hands rose to cover her eyes. "Many of them looked just like you."

The brunette spoke again, "Just like…me?"

"Just like you," Bela emphasized the resemblance between Edith and the girls she presided over. "I drank their blood after I killed them. We ate their bodies. It was fun for us. We did this for years, and do you want to know something else?"

"What Bela?"

"It only stopped because someone stopped me," she confessed. "Someone that I was trying to kill. Had he not, I would have kept doing it without a second thought. So, before you try and help me, just know that you're helping a monster."

Edith remained silent for a bit after hearing what she had been told. Her eyes closed and stayed that way for a dozen seconds. She had to have felt so disappointed, Bela thought. She could see it in the way she sat there.

The blonde hated herself for destroying the only good thing that she had left in this life, but part of her wanted to truth to be known. Another part of her found it natural to tear apart such things regardless. It didn't matter which side held the greater precedence. The result would be the same in the end.

She'd have nothing – and no one.

Such was the life of Bela Dimitrescu.

"Bela…" Edith finally opened her eyes, "…is that true?"

"All of it."

Edith pushed her tongue through her dried lips to soften them up. She was getting ready to speak again, "I struggle to…imagine you as…that kind of…person."

"Well, that is the person next to you," she replied. "That's always been me. I'm not going to lie to you." Bela recalled the way she and Ethan had ended off. How her words caused just as much damage as her actions. "I'm not lying to anyone anymore."

"I was taught…not to lie," Edith remarked.

"I believe that."

"I believe what…you say you have…done…was cruel and…horrible."

Another tear fell down the blonde's cheek. "And you'd be right."

In an unforeseen move, Edith blinked her eyes, which formulated the slightest glimmer of a tear along her lids. "But…I still want…you to be…my friend."

…

Bela turned to her in shock; mouth open and amber eyes as wide as the Sheer Orbs that had been stolen from this city. "What?" She was in such disbelief. How could Edith have even still considered friendship after all she had just heard? "Why would you want that?"

The brunette's lips tensed up. The tear that had just formed immediately fell down the side of her temple, absorbed into her long hair that lay around it. "I was also…taught not to…judge those who…wish to do…better." The girl filled her lungs again. "And I…don't think you…have ever had…a friend, either."

"No," Bela shook her head in sadness. "No, I haven't. I don't deserve friends. Not after what I have done."

"I cannot…forgive you for…what you did…because it is not…my place to." Edith echoed the words spoken across realms, spoken from the mouths of others whom she would never meet, "Only the dead…can forgive."

"I don't think any of those people would forgive me," Bela muttered. "I kept them in cages just like this one. I'm just like Malcolm, and I don't think you can look at him as a friend."

"No…I cannot," Edith replied. "I have…tried to look…past his actions…but he laughs about…our teachings. He continues…to hurt us. Someone like…you…genuinely regrets…themselves. I can…see it."

Forgiveness was never something perfect, which was why Bela never believed in it. To her, it meant ignoring someone's transgressions, and waiting for them to do it again. Edith viewed forgiveness as something she did not hold authority over. Only the victims of Castle Dimitrescu would get a voice on the matter, and all of them were dead.

Bela suddenly realized what that meant. She would never find forgiveness in that way. She would have to just forgive herself and do better. That was what separated her from Malcolm. She regretted her wrongs – he didn't.

Ethan was her chance to aspire to be something more, but that was something that she did not understand. It wasn't until she had been subject to a similar lifestyle as the women she brutalized that she discovered this new side of her. She may have wanted to be more hospitable with that man, but he still saw her past written all over her. Her comment about the wine that set him off made sense now. At that time, she did not empathize with her victims. Part of her still saw it as a way of life.

Not anymore.

She had gotten her taste of cruelty. A large dose of it, in fact. But, she had also sampled the joys of having someone there to talk to. Someone who would listen and try to understand her. She could let down her walls and speak about her problems. She had lived such a long life, but had barely lived it at all.

If there was still a life left to be lived, she would want to change. The feeling of acceptance and love was better than any wound she could create. The past would always be her history, but the vile woman she had been had no place in her future.

As Bela's tears swelled up even more, Edith smiled at her, "I want you…to be my…friend. Will you…be my friend?"

Several strings of sorrow fell off her face as she nodded. "Yes, Edith. I'll be your friend."

The brunette breathed a sigh of relief. "Thank you…Bela. I have always…wanted a friend."

"Me too, Edith," she said as her eyelids squeezed together. "Me too."

NOTES:

Bela is making progress. I remember in the beginning how many of you would comment on how unlikable she was, which was a quality that remained unchanged for quite a while. She's come a long way since then and she still has further to go. Like Cassandra in Fragmented Flies, I never intended her past to be something that could so easily be overlooked.

We're inching closer towards the end. Little by little.

I won't keep you waiting. This weekend is another double, so the next chapter will be released tomorrow!

Expect some more Bela, as well as Ethan and Kyia, along with some unforeseen things.

I'll have more to say tomorrow in the next author's notes, but I hope you guys enjoyed this chapter. I know this arc has been very depressing. I know some of you have been dying to see Malcolm perish, but just like with Bela's turnaround, and the (looming) romance between her and Ethan – everything takes time.

I thank you for being patient, and I believe that will pay off so much in the end. We're almost there 😊

Stay safe and see you all soon!