Not the Villain - The Evil Queen's Retelling of Snow White

25 Years, One Month, and Two Days Ago

Pain exploded across the left side of my back. I bit down on my lip, tasting blood, to keep from crying out. There was no way I would show that man any weakness.

By the third lash, I gave out a grunt, struggling to stay strong. You're my beautiful girl, my beautiful rebellious girl. My mom whispered in my ear. You can get through it. Fight, Amethyst.

By the fifth, my legs fell out from under me and I was no longer standing on my feet, I was dangling by my wrists on bent knees.

By the sixth, I gave an involuntary cry.

I lost count after that, but I was slowly losing consciousness. My mind went blank. It was only me, the crack of the whip, and the agony. I could see my blood, trickling down my back and gathering in a pool of red at my feet.

But I was still awake, I was still awake when Emerald came in. I heard my sister give a cry of distress at the sight of me, I watched her grab the elbow of my tormenter. My mind was still blank, empty, and I couldn't think, couldn't feel. I heard her yelling at him to stop.

I watched him, in a crazed fit of rage, try to shake her off. When she didn't let go, I watched him grab a nearby candlestick, watched him swing it towards her head. My mind didn't register the movement, it did not believe what was about to happen, it could not believe it.

I watched her crumble.

My mom's voice had disappeared. Gone, as if it was never there. I was screaming then, screaming for someone, anyone to help. The last thought before I lost consciousness was: Please, please help my sister.

25 years, one month and one day ago:

I woke up. My back was on fire, which was probably why I was lying on my stomach. I tried to look around, but even the turning of my head brought waves of pain down my back. Finally, I gave up. What happened? I tried to blink the murkiness from my mind, struggling to recall the events of last night. Then in a burst it all came back to me in a huge, muddled mess. The pain. The screaming. The blood.

"Emerald?" I rasped, hoping there would be someone nearby to hear me.

I heard the footsteps of someone hurrying over. "Shh, shh. You're awake, child. Dahlia has taken care of you. You'll be okay." It was a maid. She managed to spoon-feed me some stew with me still on my stomach.

"Where is Emerald?" I asked again. But she just told me to go back to sleep.

From now on, I am Amethyst. Just Amethyst. I will not share the last name of that man I once called Father. What he did was unforgivable. Why didn't I see Emerald just now? Is Emerald okay? You didn't answer my question, I wanted to say to the maid, but the world went dark and I fell asleep.

It took a week and a half, but I eventually got better.

Emerald never did.

She was only eleven years old when she stopped breathing, and her weakened heart thumped its last, fluttery beat.