"A pathetic excuse of a daughter."

Those were the words said to her by her own mother, ever since her father died, and also now. Venomous words that wounded the girl deeply. Ones that had engraved themselves into her heart.

"A sorry excuse of a daughter."

A similar word was used for the same insult, but it cut through her just as deeply as the first.

"You should've never been born. You're nothing. You will always be nothing."

Perhaps she was right, that the girl was nothing more than some insignificant statistic in this world. Perhaps that would remain true even after she died.

"Just what the fuck are you thinking approaching me like this, thinking that you can fix all of this by saying those words, huh!?"

It was an advice given to her by her friend, to try and console her mother, to try and talk to her. But the blunder…it was her own fault; she should've never taken it in the first place. Should've never said those words of forgiveness, of wanting to heal their bond, especially in a place like this.

A decrepit excuse of a hotel, on a rainy day, in the badly-kept parking lot no less. Evidence of trash everywhere. The smell of filth revolting to the average person.

"You should've never come here. You've denied me a deal with my client, you ruined it all!"

Her mother's screams got louder. A half-empty bottle of alcohol was being held by her hand as she said them. But still, those words held true in spite of her condition.

Her client, a delinquent of a middle-aged man, with badly kept blonde hair and a stubble beard, was the sole witness of this event. To say the least, he was greatly appalled by the older woman's toxicity. It wouldn't be considered a lie that he liked those kinds of women, but those words…especially to her own daughter, it was just too painful to hear even for him.

Her mother's tears were evident, as she would then continue onwards with her barrage of venomous words.

"You should've never been born. You ruined it all. Every day…you're just a reminder of what could've been. You're just a bad memory." She said, "You don't deserve to be here! You're never worthy of my love, or your father!"

Her daughter, all this time, had her gaze downwards in shame, as she held onto the fabric of her skirt in comfort. She took those words to heart. She couldn't respond, she wouldn't respond.

Her mother, brown hair and emerald eyes, her beauty tainted by the darkness overwhelming her heart, looked at her with utter disgust. With pure anger. Whether it was directed at herself or her daughter, it did not matter.

"I should've aborted you when I had the chance, but no! My love for you and your father had to intervene!" She yelled out, causing her daughter to stumble back. "You don't deserve it, you should've just taken his place and died right there and then…"

Her mother's screams turned to ugly sobs. But still, anger festered within her. The rain managed to mask her tears, but not her anguish. To what end would she berate her own daughter, no one knew for sure.

For a couple of minutes, the woman just cried out in grief and mourning. She had never moved on from this, never would have even if she was given the chance. Her own daughter stood before her, silent and in deep thought, having a want to say something but no power to do so. The man behind the woman just looked onwards in utter shock.

"Leave…"

"But mom—!"

"JUST LEAVE!"

The half-empty bottle of alcohol splashed against the wet asphalt, just in front of the girl, making her flinch as it shattered upon impact. She stumbled backwards for a few more steps because of it.

The mother was silent, everyone was silent, only the sound of rain and the distant noise of traffic filled the voice. But the girl…instead of crying or, any god would forbid, lashing out against her mother, just smiled.

She smiled, for she had taken those words said to her by heart. True or not, she took them all. Perhaps this would be the best of cases for the both of them. A failed endeavour to fix their bond, turned into a lesson that the young girl would try to live her final moments by.

And with that, she walked away, past her mother and the man she called her client. Gazed downwards, but the smile remained.

"I NEVER LOVED YOU, AND I WILL NEVER LOVE YOU!"

Her mother's last words to her, an affirmation of the status of her love to her own daughter. But as the girl left the hotel's parking lot, the man, her client, slapped the woman across her face.

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The woman backed away in fear and shock, the same feelings he had witnessing her act.

"Pathetic excuse of a woman, why would I ever buy you…" He said, voice slightly hinting at his drunken state. But the declaration he made was enough, for he too walked away from her.

The rain and traffic once again filled the silence that descended upon the scene. Now that the woman was left alone, all that she could do was kneel down and cry out her pain and sorrow.

Those were the last moments that the girl would consider significant in her life. The most pivotal, one could say.

A lesson had been taught. Venomous words had stung. A deal had been ruined. And the advice of a friend was put to waste by one's own failure.

Truly, what shall be her worth after that? What could she deem as something to be proud of? Who would accept and love a girl that could do nothing but ruin her final chance at a life worth living?

————————

Dreams are considered prophetic to some people, and Marilyn was still a bit confused about whether that notion was true or not. Could it be? Because she had just woken up from her sleep, experiencing that sad pivotal moment once again.

Perhaps it would be best acknowledged as a reminder, not a prophecy. She wanted to cry as she sat up, the white fabric of her bedsheets gripped tightly in her hands.

Her mood spiralled downward in the clear morning because of that dream. It had been that way for the past six years of her new life, actually. She couldn't exactly accept dreams as prophetic, but as a reminder? She couldn't deny it. That moment would not have played on a constant basis if it weren't true.

Marilyn looked at the bed beside her. It was empty, and the bedsheets had been tidied up, presumably by Bethany. It seemed like Helena had gotten up for early sword training with the maid.

And in order to distract herself, she smiled at that, hoping that her older sister could succeed in her wish. She wouldn't deny it; knights are cool, and her sister would be one of the coolest ones if she reached that dream of hers.

Then something caught the attention of her ears: a knock on the door. She checked the clock, which presented the time of day upon a screen using the act of magic. It was still too early for breakfast, exactly one hour early.

So, it couldn't be the maid reminding her of that. So who…?

"Marilyn, may I enter?"

That was the voice of her mother, her current one. The little girl panicked a little but made sure to respond.

"Y-yes!"

By Marilyn's own acceptance of the question, her mother, Anna Althorn, entered the children's bedroom, still wearing her morning gown. By Marilyn's own observation, it was rather ornate, with white being the dominant colour.

Her mother could be considered a beautiful woman, delicate as a flower, yet passionate. But an inkling of fear still resided within Marilyn, which was enough for her to avoid her.

Especially because of her emerald eyes. Those eyes shone with love, yet they scared her. The woman sat at the side of her sister's bed, and Marilyn moved to face her. Still, her eyes could not look up to her.

"Marilyn, may I ask you a question?"

Marilyn fidgeted for a little but nodded.

"Are you scared of me?"

That question caught the girl by surprise, especially with the sombre tone her mother used. It felt as if she was in the wrong for the girl's reaction to her every time they met face to face.

"N-no…"

"Then…why do you look away from me? Why do you ignore me?"

"I…"

Marilyn once again was hesitant to answer her. She couldn't find a proper way to explain her past life, in a way that would not cause confusion. So, all that was left was…

"I…had a nightmare, of you saying mean words to me."

A half-truth, because the one who said it was her previous mother, who bore the same eye colour as her current one. Still, it made her scared of angering her.

"That you don't love me, that you hated me, that I don't deserve to be born…" Marilyn said, her mother listening intently, "That nightmare kept repeating over and over again."

Her mother was silently surprised, eyebrows furrowed, gaze downward. What could cause that sort of thing to happen, even?

"Marilyn…do you believe that dreams are prophetic?"

"Huh?"

"If you do…it could mean those words that you believed me to be saying could happen in the future."

Are dreams prophetic? That question had always been vague, a bit silly, yet still held weight for people who believed in them. Unironically, it could even be deemed philosophical, psychological even.

But Marilyn didn't believe such notions. To her, dreams were a wish, and a reminder. After all, they're made of someone's memories. Unless they were to be a seer, it wouldn't make sense for someone to dream of a scenario that was not available within their memories.

At least that's what she thought of it.

"No…" Marilyn said, "I don't believe that."

"Then…what caused you to dream it, over and over again?"

She couldn't answer with the truth, it didn't feel right, so she had to go with the next best thing.

"I…don't know…"

Her mother was still concerned by that answer. For in this world, thoughts such as these could be traced back to the soul through the use of magic, souls being the very origin of one's own consciousness. But…she trusted in her daughter.

She trusted her to be happy, and she was.

She trusted her to open up more, and she did.

She trusted that she would unlock her potential, and she could.

So, she trusted her with this too, to know that she shouldn't be scared of her.

Anna approached her, sitting upon her own two knees below her bed, and held her small hands in her own. She smiled.

"Do you trust me?"

"I…I do."

"Then listen to my promise." She said, "I will never ever hurt you. I love you, and I will always love you. You deserve to be born, and you deserve to be happy. Do you understand?"

Tears swelled up from her eyes, tears of happiness. Marilyn smiled in response to her mother's promise; she couldn't exactly believe it, despite knowing that her mother was the type of person to do it, verbal confirmation or not.

"You deserve to be something far greater than perhaps even your father. And even if my role in your life is merely to support you throughout, that is enough. That's what a mother should do, right?"

"R-right!"

Anna's smile widened, "Good."

She then proceeded to hug her daughter, and Marilyn responded by embracing her in return. The two of them felt warmth for each other, something that could only be considered rare in the young girl's previous life.

Dreams may be prophetic, they may be only a reminder. They may even be neither. But whatever they could be, as long as the reality of a situation says otherwise, Marilyn would not believe it.

Her mother's promise to her, the affirmation of her love, had and shall stave away the bad dreams she experienced for all her current childhood. Because after this particular moment, the one constant dream she had been having was finally no more.