𝐟𝐢𝐯𝐞 𝐝𝐨𝐥𝐥𝐚𝐫 𝐦𝐢𝐥𝐤𝐬𝐡𝐚𝐤𝐞~short stories~

Ingrid (revised)

Prequel short story part 2: Ingrid

Ingrid Terran Silver.
Intelligent and pretty.
Well respected among men but not considered a candidate for any marital status.
She was seen as an individual instead of just a woman, and for that she felt lucky. But she also wanted to be desirable. So in the selection she splurged on beautiful clothing decorated with flowers. Because flowers were feminine right?

She looked around at the room of selected. They all wore their clothes like they belonged in them. She began to wonder why she thought that the clothes fit you instead of a person fitting the clothes. And she felt foolish.

"You haven't any tan lines." The discomfort of having a stranger making comments about her body crawled up her spine. "Don't see much sun?" The stranger had a golden tan himself and honey brown hair. His tone was casual, and comfortable as if he weren't being probing and asking personal questions.

While his observational skills were impressive, she didn't much appreciate him bearing her soul on their first encounter. However his gaze was soft on her pale skin. The attention was long waited by her.

"I tend to dress more covered than I am now," she said, keeping her voice even at a low volume.

"This dress suits you." His words and his smile sent a wave of excitement over her that prickled at her skin and made her stomach flip. A girlish giggle bubbled up from her and made her snort for breath. She covered her mouth, shocked by her unfiltered laugh. Blood rushed to face so quickly, she could hear it in her ear. Face red, she sputtered to excuse herself before she made anymore a fool of herself.

Her eyes found his face, expecting to find disgust or disinterested. A smile lit his expression and he started to laugh along.

'Thank god," she thought to herself. As the blush in her cheeks was cooling, she began to introduce herself. Bashful, she brushed her curly red hair aside to looked back at him to find his eyes glued behind her. A glance over her shoulder told her what his eyes were caught by, or rather who. There, across the room, was most beautiful girl she'd ever seen. Her cream colored dress went perfectly with her sun kissed complexion and bright eyes. Those eyes held the prince's gaze for long enough for Ingrid to sprout a bud of jealousy. This girl fit into her clothing, Ingrid didn't.

Every day since then, the bud has grown into a blossoming, all consuming weed that festered inside her. Her determination to monopolize Dathan persisted. If she couldn't be the beautiful one that held his eyes. She would be the genius that held his mind.

She would be his wife.

Ingrid was first to bear a child for him. His firstborn, she thought, must mean something to him so she raced for the spot.

"Thaylin, listen to me when I explain it. Math isn't hard if you just follow the instructions. The exact understanding of the purpose comes later but for now you just follow the rules," she said, pointing to the paper.

"Mother, may I speak freely?" A 7 year old  me said.

"Speak," she granted me.

"Why does it seem like I must always follow the rules while everyone else gets to do whatever they want?" I asked, wondering to her mother why my siblings were running free with no rules while I sat in the study learning arithmetic and proper manners.

"Because those children have lost their mothers. They lack discipline because of it. But as long as you have me, my beauty, you will always have a path on which I can guide you." She kissed my forehead. "And right now, we are on the path of learning. Math!"

My mother was a nurturing person. There was too much she let my father get away with.
To her defense, no one could stop him.
Especially not me.

Ingrid Terran Silver.
Beautiful and determined.
The person who least of all deserved to die the way she did.
And I, the child who didn't deserve to be forced to witness it.

My mother was beaten to death in the garden outside the window of the music room. I was playing the piano and my drunken father decided I didn't do it well enough. But instead of taking it out on me, he vented his anger out on my mother. More specifically, 4 of her ribs, her jaw, her femur and wrist.
Her corpse had more bruise than skin.
And her eyes were more black thank their beautiful red-brown. And swollen shut in an unpeaceful way.