From a very young age Rylla learnt she could not rely on her parents. To them, their child did not exist, or she did, but only when they could somehow make money off her. Most days would pass without even a glance from them. 

Rylla didn’t know if she should be thankful for it or not. At one point it could be worse, they could treat her like one of the whores that worked for them, sell their bodies to anyone who showed interest, or beat them for not satisfying the customer enough. While her parents did not lay a hand on Rylla yet, it was just a matter of time. 

Papa Oswyn more than not was too busy drinking liquor, slurring his words and stumbling about the brothel, only beating up the whores who displeased him in some way. If Rylla just stayed out of his way during those moments, then she was safe. Mama Fleya on the other hand was a lot easier to displease. The only times she did pay attention to her daughter was to remind Rylla how worthless she was, and what a shame that she did not inherit any good looks and instead possessed a body with no curves to be desired by a man. It was Mama’s idea to put Rylla to work as soon as she turned 8, to get her to manage the rooms and clean them. One day that work would not be enough, and even the sound of Rylla’s breath would displease her Mama to the point of being hit. 

Until then Rylla would work as hard as she could, perhaps earning the attention she craved so much. For now, dreams would have to suffice, on how one day maybe she would be able to read, or maybe dance like the women in the pub opposite the brothel. 

And oh, how much Rylla wanted to dance, to spin until the ground was nothing but a blur, to move her body without care, and most importantly to feel the freedom while dancing. The freedom she currently did not have to do such things, or to basically enjoy her life. Rylla was convinced she was nothing more but a pet her parents had, and now they do not know what to do with it so they just keep it locked inside. 

One day that cage would break, and she would be free. 

Moans filled the corridors of the brothel, each whore performed as if their life dependant on it, and each man was too oblivious to notice the acting, too lost in the pleasure they came there for, or maybe their ego’s too big to ever admit a woman would not sound like that for them. The moans were a result of fear of Mama Fleya, the beating they would receive for bringing a bad name to the business, and the lack of pay the next day. So, the acting continued, moans grew louder with each passing moment. 

Rylla tried not to look inside the rooms, yet her young mind couldn’t help but to wonder what fully went on inside. Only when she looked for a moment too long, Rylla questioned how the girls could do those acts, to not runaway at the first opportunity given. Those men looked cruel, they did everything they wanted, grabbed, and touched what they wanted, many times looked as if they got pleasure from the discomfort, or pain of the woman beneath them. 

Whoever called these brothels, pleasure houses have obviously not considered the woman inside them, as they certainly did not experience any pleasure or satisfaction. 

After that Rylla tried not to look inside, it bothered her more than words could say. Not being able to help the woman there, made her feel more worthless than any other time her mother insulted her. So, with eyes on the floor, Rylla cleaned the rooms in silence, attempting not to focus on all the noise around her.

One day, Rylla woke up to footsteps near her door. For some it would be normal, but her small room was located in the attic, there was nothing up there but a few ripped, patched up dresses and a bed roll that definitely seen better days. Yet, the clacking of heels came closer and closer, until her mama opened the door. 

Mama’s long brown hair was elegantly braided back, the few grey hairs usually present were hidden, the soft features on her face appeared sharper, highlighted at different points and the cheeks were filled with rouge. The woman stood at the door, wore an elegant deep blue dress, would have looked breathtaking, if not for those brown eyes that were filled with rage. 

“Get up and follow me.” 

Rylla tried to swallow the fear that grew in her throat, mama never asked her to go anywhere, and while her mother glared at her before, that rage behind those eyes told Rylla nothing good would come out of this. However, nothing good would come if she didn’t listen either. 

  There wasn’t much time to worry about their destination and Rylla’s lack of dress, it only took a few moments to arrive in front of her parents’ room. The door was already open, revealing Papa Oswyn passed out on the bed, the stench of alcohol clung to his skin. Mama did not seem to pay much attention to her intoxicated husband, instead she grabbed Rylla’s arm, and dragged her in front of the closet. Another few moments passed when a dress was tossed towards her. 

“Put it on child.” Mama Fleya huffed. 

Embarrassment filled Rylla’s body, her cheeks warmed under her mothers scrutinising stare. There was no room to change in, no closet large enough to go inside and the bathroom was on the other side of the hall. With clumsy hands Rylla took off her nightgown as quickly as she could, tried and failed to not notice the figures that passed the door and stared at her body. 

Luckily, the new dress was easy to put on. It was the finest thing Rylla ever had on her. The material was smooth on her skin, unlike all the torn dresses that laid in the attic, the colour was a deep pink instead of the washed-out browns. The dress revealed her arms and hugged her torso, then flowed down all the way to the floor. Mama did not waste more time as she swiftly started to work on her daughter's hair, braided it in a similar manner of her own. 

It was only for a few moments that Rylla saw herself in the small mirror on the wall on their way out, but she did see a pretty, young woman, not the worthless, ugly thing Rylla thought of herself. The girl in the mirror had smooth long chestnut hair with light brown eyes, her skin was fair and smooth, the face resembled a younger version of Fleya Insallor, the known beauty in the whole of Nolis, if not in the whole of Koragon. Perhaps the child did not possess the curves Mama Fleya often wanted her to, but it was a pretty child nonetheless. And sometimes, it was hard for Rylla to remember that she was only ten, that she was in fact nothing more than a child, who perhaps had seen too much at such a young age. 

It was strange to walk down the street in the fancy new dress and shoes. It was obvious people glanced towards them, whispered about them. Before Rylla could’ve listen in, hear a few words people said about her, a tight hand wrapped around her arm and pulled her forward, rushing her along the street. Even with the pain that spread on her skin, the unavoidable bruise that already formed, Rylla felt a strange hint of happiness, all because for once in her life she had been seen. 

This story originates from Royal Road. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there.

They eventually come to a halt in front of a large, stone house, next to a river. Must be a house of a lord, with pockets deep enough to afford a house by water. That was a luxury not owned by many, mostly the king's loyal friends or the king himself. 

Inside the house looked even bigger, each wall was covered in paintings, in the middle there was a chandelier made of millions of little stones, a servant ready to be commanded in each passing room. When they made it to a room in the far end of the house, Mama Fleya bowed deeply, towards the man that sat near a window. 

“Lord Enan.” Mama Fleya said sweetly. 

The lord looked at them both up and down, assessing if they were worth his attention and time. Lord Enan was on the older side, if Rylla had to guess she would say he was in his fifties at least, his grey hair was cut short and so was his beard. The lord certainly was not hungry often, he must be heavier than any customer that Rylla had seen in the brothel. 

“Why have you come Fleya?” Lord Enan’s raspy voice echoed through the room.

“I am here to present you, my daughter.” Mama’s cold eyes moved toward Rylla. “To offer her to you for marriage.”

All blood must have drained from Rylla’s face, not even the cynical look from the lord made the colour come back. 

“Do you consider me a fool Fleya?” 

“I know she is young, but I promise she will do fine. Remember where she was raised, what she has seen.” Mama’s voice trembled. “Rylla would perform her duties soundly.”

The lord made his way out the chair, stomping towards Mama. He grabbed her face harshly, forcing eye contact. 

“And do I look as if I would be interested in a child?” The lord raised his voice. “I asked for a recommendation of a fine lady for a wife, someone pure and ready for Ladyship, not some child of a whore.” 

Enraged, the lord threw Mama into a wall, both were panting as they were collecting themselves. Lord Enan sat back in his chair, continued to look out the window, and not spared another glance at his guests. While Mama Fleya patted down her hair and dress, bowed one more time towards the lord and left. It took all the power Rylla had in her legs not to be left behind and keep up with her mother.

When they returned home, the girls of the house gave Rylla pitiful looks, as if they knew what happened hours before. Mama Fleya on the other hand just said she didn’t want to be bothered, and to not let her see her daughter again for now. 

The shock of the situation just finished wearing off Rylla, the knowledge her parents were willing to sell her off to some old lord was devastating. It was one thing knowing her parents didn’t want to be involved in Rylla’s life, but a whole different thing of want to actively get rid of her. To expect her to perform duties as a wife at the age of ten. She was their daughter, and yet even her body had a price. 

Without realisation, Rylla stood in the middle of the corridor, broom, and cloth in her hand. After arriving back, she forgot to change out of the fine dress, or to remove the neat braid out. The shock of this betrayal was too much. 

“How much for you sweet?” A voice sounded behind her. 

The man was intoxicated, covered in dishevelled clothing, obviously a satisfied client of the brothel. 

“I am very sorry sir, I just clean, I am not for those purposes.” Rylla tried to sound as polite as she could, but his breath reeked and it was the first time she actually spoke today, her voice fell a bit too quiet.

The man did not waste his time in grabbing Rylla’s throat, bending down and kissing it. Rylla tried to push, tried to get him off as the other girls watched, unsure what to do.

“No sir, I am a child. Not yet a woman for this brothel.” Her voice panicked and out of breath. 

Finally, the man stumbled away, unsure if it was from the resistance or if the alcohol had gotten the better of him, but that did not matter to him. Nothing else mattered to this man, but the simple fact a woman, no, a child, said no to him. 

“My deepest apologies for this sir, I will make sure to discipline this child, please pick any other whore here as our apology.” Mama Fleya's voice sounded through the corridor, it was so sweet, yet filled with venom. Her brown eyes fixed on Rylla.   

 There wasn’t enough time to see which girl that man took back inside the room, Mama Fleya ran up to Rylla and slapped her so hard she fell to the floor. Not enough time to look around to see who was left to watch what happened next, all Rylla saw was a leg flying towards her head. 

Once.

Twice.

Then it switched to her stomach. And again.

Once.

Then twice. 

Rylla felt blood coming from somewhere, everything just hurt so bad. 

“Next time you take it.” Mama Fleya kicked again. “It is a miracle a man showed interest in you in the first place.”

How many times Rylla was hit after that she lost count, all the pain merged into one, and it didn’t stop until darkness surrounded her.

They left her there. 

The other girls of the house didn’t bother to help Rylla, move her out of the pool of blood she laid in. Even after they noticed she was awake again, no one moved a single step forward to help her up. The only advantage of that was when Rylla moved towards the door to leave, no one stopped her. 

People on the street looked horrified as they glanced towards her. Dried blood covered Rylla’s face and hair, the side of the dress was completely ruined by the dark red spot on it. Yet even then, no one bothered to come up and ask if she needed any help. 

Have people always been this cruel?

Unsure how much time has passed, Rylla finally stopped when she arrived at the side of a river just outside of Nolis. The capital was so huge she never realised such a large, wooded area was nearby and with such a lovely river too. 

It was private and away from everyone. 

Far away enough that no one would see this, no one would hear about this, or mock her for this. 

For the first time Rylla let herself cry, let the tears flood her face and hit the ground and the sobs escaped her lips. The more tears fell the more relief she felt, oddly enough she also felt a sense of freedom. 

Here, she had control, or the lack of it if she so chose to. 

So Rylla let her body be free, do what she has always wanted to. 

She started dancing.