Venom

10: The Woman Known As Mykela

No one knows someone as well as they think they do. There will always be a secret, a shame, a pang of guilt and a desire that is too much to share. Too much to risk.

Only you know yourself as you truly are because you are the shadow that follows you around, the heart that keeps beating because you want more than this second, the lips that curl or snarl at things said and done.

You can grow up with as much love and hatred and still come out different from everyone's expectations. But that's only natural because what they remember watching happen as you grow is not the same as to what you remember experiencing. What they think they know, is not the truth of what happened. Only you know your story.

And only I know mine.

Or at least the one that counts. The first life.

* * *

New Moonscream: October 27, 1806

"Stop running, mama said lady's don't run in dresses!" I screamed at Niveha , grabbing the bottom of my dress and lifting it so it wouldn't get dirty and torn at the loose branches.

Oh man, mama was going to be mad if we tore our dresses, especially since we hadn't even worn them twice this month. And who was going to get in trouble? Me! Why? Because I was the oldest. It was completely unfair.

"She also said ladies don't scream, so I guess that makes you a brute!" My sister giggled at her come back, running faster as she threw her hands over her head and gave out a wicked scream of pleasure. She sounded more like a wild goat.

"Put your hands down before you get the sleeves caught on some-" The sound of something tearing off echoed in the forest. My heart sped up as I looked around as if mama would pop out. "I told you! I told you! Now look what you did!" The words were coming out like a wail as I felt dread build up.

Thankfully Niveha stopped and looked down at her dress, inspecting it. That gave me enough time to catch up to her and take hold of her small shoulders, as I began to shake her like the little brute she was.

When we had left the house earlier her chin-length curls had been nicely curled and pinned around her head, away from her face to show her young and rounded features. Two years younger than me her cheeks were still rounded, her large dark eyes doe-like as they shone brightly, the crinkles at the corner more prominent as she squinted at me. Unlike me she had skin everyone called 'unblemished', her skin was an even blend between me and mama but I was slightly darker. Her rounded face bearly reached the bottom half of my lip.

"Why couldn't you have waited until after the ceremony to get dirty!" I muttered annoyed.

"I'm not that dirty." My sister huffed out, puffing out her face.

Looking down I sighed at the sight of her. The curls that had been pinned remained down, but the running had caused perfectly styled wild curls to dry in a windswept style. She looked like a frumpy doll with crazed hair. Looking down at her yellow sundress I frowned at the grimy bottom. Even her shoes were muddy. I didn't even want to look down at my own.

"Where is it?" I asked, twisting her this way and that. "Where's the tear?"

Niveha tilted her head to the side and looked down my dress before a snicker left her.