Chapter 1: Forsaken

       “Puppet,” a word deriving from the idea of a usable tool for someone else’s means, whether for entertainment or control. Sadly, I am both to those I thought loved and cared for me. All I wanted was for my parents to be proud of me again, but they never truly gave me a chance to be seen differently. Ignorantly and full of hope, I thought that if I did as I was asked, paid attention in school, got good marks, and did all my chores, my parents would notice my diligence and be proud of me. Yet, in the end, they all grew more indifferent.

       When I was younger, I truly felt loved by my parents. Every time I did anything as I was told or as they expected it. I was rewarded: with a compliment, a smile, or even a small pat on my head. It made me feel like I was a good Daughter and that they were proud of me.

       Everything changed when we started attending the gatherings of our relatives.

Comparisons were always the talk of the adults. It was like that subject brought some need for them to humiliate others in order for them to feel better about themselves. It was tearing my parents apart and in turn they started taking it out on me. I had stopped being seen as special in my parents’ eyes. They had started to see me as average and sometimes I felt like a burden. No longer a good daughter. They treated me as someone who would constantly disappoint them. Their faith in me had vanished. I almost broke, until one day I realized why they had been proud of me before. I thought the conditions for their approval might still be the same, unchanging.

       I thought I needed to withstand the pain. If I just kept doing as I was instructed both in school and with my parents, then one day they would recognize that I’m far better than the average and acknowledge me for my diligence. Whenever I saw someone doing something good, I would try to observe and imitate them in order to learn their good traits.

       After some time, my parents stopped treating me as if I was a constant disappointment. I thought this was the right path until I noticed their indifference. I wasn’t a disappointment to my parents any longer, but I also didn’t feel as if they were proud of me. Our relationship was starting to grow stagnant. I didn’t understand why things were this way. Until I finally heard it in one of our relatives’ gatherings while I was in the restroom. I heard them as they were passing by outside.

       “Oh, that Heli, how boring. She doesn’t have a single good idea of her own.” My uncle Luke, a short and stubby man who always smelled like spearmint, said to his wife.

       “Look at the bright side, Liz and John have their very own puppet. How proud they must be,” laughed my aunt Clara, an arrogant woman that always tries to seem elegant with no success. Her voice was nasally and huffy. The kind that grates on the ears the more you hear it.

       ‘Is that truly how my parents saw me?’ I thought. Not being able to hold back my tears, I started to cry. Nothing I ever did was good enough for any of them. I was broken by their careless whispers.

       In the end I decided that I would live for myself. I was going to be as creative and original as I wanted. No longer would I copy or be their puppet. I would likely be casted away anyway. At least this way it would be on my own terms. I would not allow myself to be affected by them anymore, or so I thought.

       Being around my relatives was always difficult and uncomfortable for me. It was always so painful to hear my family and relatives acknowledge someone else while they disregard, or degrade me for the things I attempted to do. I tried to be strong but today I don’t know why I was a bit more sensitive than usual.

       “That looks incredible Aella” my mother and her siblings praised my cousin for her carving of a dove. Her bird was good though, especially considering that she was only 11 years old. Four months older than me yet she was vastly better than I was at appealing to others. Aella the daughter of my Aunt Clara and uncle Luke was very pretty, her emerald eyes, slim body, and wheat color hair made her appear doll-like. Aella always talked to me and I truly didn’t have anything against her. I wasn’t upset because they praised her. It was always the comparison that came after that, that I detested.

       “That child, Heli, is always trying to imitate Aella but she’s not even good at it! Hahaha!”

       “Their skill levels are so obviously different. Such a pitiful child.”

       Those assholes didn’t even know that I was working on this first. “Child you need to fix the neck if you want yours to look like your cousin’s” chuckled aunt Clara. “But it’s not the same as Aella's,” I replied not giving her the satisfaction of seeing my eyes look up at her. “Don’t talk back puppet," angered by the insult I instinctively glared at her. "Just take the advice” she said as her gaze pierced me. I couldn’t control my emotions from leaking out. “But you are wrong, it’s not the same,” I replied losing a bit of my composure. “YOU IMPUDENT LITTLE BRAT” yelled my aunt alarming everybody around us. I felt my rage building up in me and almost instinctively I heard “Heli what did I say about respecting your elders." Hearing my mother’s words, I felt dejected, and I burst out of my grandparents’ house without turning back.

       I’m not even sure where I was running to, I just felt that I needed to get out of that place. All that mattered to me was getting away from my relatives. I wasn’t going to get acceptance there. My mother wouldn’t take my side, I know I wasn’t right a lot of the time, but she doesn’t even ask for my opinion anymore. She thinks that I’m always in the wrong specially if some relative tells her something about me.

       When I felt like I was far enough away, I stopped and sat under a tall tree with a wide gray trunk and green-ish gray leaves. My heart pounding in my chest as I took ragged breaths to calm the beating. The trees and grass were thicker and larger here. I looked up to see that the trees loomed above my head, smothering away the sunlight and leaving my surroundings in dim darkness. Not so far from me I noticed a swampy area with an eerie glow.

        I sucked in a breath and I could taste how humid the air was. I sighed, curling in on myself. "Fuck why do they treat me like this. I love them and they act as if I’m just in the way. Am I adopted; do I not belong with them? FUCK." The irritation in my head grew the more I thought of them, "Hell, if I was adopted, that would have meant they actually chose me. In a sense that would at least have felt like I was wanted," I squeezed my hands, feeling a small object crack under the pressure I had given it. I glanced at my hand, not realizing I had taken the carving with me. I take in the details of my bird carving, tears welling up in my eyes. “It was a raven not a FUCKING DOVE AAH” I slam it on the floor beneath me. It wasn’t as pretty as Aella’s I know, but why am I always used to make her look better.

       I heaved and huffed from my outrage. I abruptly sit down once more and curl in on myself. After some time had passed, I was able to calm down and control my emotions. I took a glance in the direction I came from, realizing and being disappointed that no one even came after me. I looked around once again not knowing where I was, I decided to head back. After only taking five steps, I heard an eerie noise that sounded like crunching followed by whimpering. Foolishly, my curiosity took the better of me and I went to investigate where that noise was coming from.

       I wasn’t prepared for the gruesome sight that was before me. As I peeked from behind a tree, I found a severed leg that seemed to have been mangled and gnawed. I felt a cold sensation start to take over me as all the hairs on my arms stood up. Beside the severed leg was a thin trail of blood that got thicker the more I followed it with my gaze. There it was, three feet away from the limb; the source, a teenage boy not that much older than I am. The sight shook me to my core. Fear was now immobilizing me, shackling me to the ground. The boy that looked to be around Fifteen was on the ground, his guts hanging limply from a six-foot beast’s claws and maw. The beast resembled a dog with horns. It was sleek, the only fur on it was a spiky strip on its back. The cruelest part of this was that the boy was still conscious. He was being eaten alive.

        Whimpering, the boy’s gaze slowly turned towards me and our eyes met. Instinctively he moved his arm as if trying to reach for me. I wanted to cry but my body and senses were all numb. His arm then fell to the ground as I saw the light from his eyes fading as he took his last breath.

       Witnessing the last breaths from the teenage boy snapped me out of my frozen state. Holding my tears, breath, and emotions with everything I had, I took a shaky step back. “CRACK!” a dry branch snapped under the weight of my foot. ‘Fuck,’ I thought. I flicked my eyes back up at the beast. It was now glaring at me in a stance about to charge at me.

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