Villain Hiring: Help! Author Wants Me Dead

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ARGGHHHHH—

AHHHHHHHHHHHHHH—

Ma.

Ma… I miss you.

I miss you so much.

"Sia!! Open the door!"

"Sis, Pl–Please open the door…"

I heard my brother crying outside the door I had locked.

My father continued shouting desperately.

Why.

Arrghhhhh

I…I just wanted to live a normal life.

I want to wake up on my mother's lap…I want her to make me sleep, I want her to scream at me for messing her room.

All these years…I've been a good girl.

My room was no longer a mess ma…

I-I even combed my hair and listened to Dad.

Remember the days you looked at me and smiled?

Calling me your baby?

Ma?

Where are you?

I want you back.

Please.

Oh god.

Plea—

I broke into a mess of snot and sobs.

5 months.

That's how long it took for my whole life to change.

And guess what?

We were no longer royalty.

That should have been good, right?

Right?!?

I clenched my fists, nails biting into my palms, leaving crescent-shaped marks on my skin. It hurt, but not as much as this hole in my chest. Not as much as knowing she was gone.

Not just gone.

Killed.

A fresh wave of pain crashed into me.

I gasped, curling myself in a cocoon as I tried holding myself together.

But I was already breaking, already falling apart.

BANG.

"Sia!! Open the door!"

Each pounding shook the door harder, each hit a reminder that I wasn't alone.

But I wanted to be.

"Sis, at least listen to me..." My brother's voice cracked with tears.

I squeezed my eyes shut. No. No, I didn't want to hear them.

All I wanted was to wake up and realise this was a bad dream.

I wanted to run into my mother's arms and have her stroke my hair.

I wanted her to laugh and call me her baby again.

But she was gone. And she hadn't just died.

She was murdered.

Poisoned.

My stomach twisted violently, and I gagged, coughing loudly as my body rejected the truth.

It wasn't fair.

Another loud bang*

"Sia, please! You have to listen to me!" My father's voice broke through the door. "I… I should have told you sooner—"

I let out a hollow, broken laugh. Told me sooner?

"You should have told me?!" I screamed, my voice cracked from all the crying. "You should have told me before she died! You should have told me before I spent all these years hating her for leaving me!"

Silence.

Then, his voice came soft. Careful. "I did it to protect you."

My hands shook. I dragged my nails down my arms, leaving red, angry marks. "Protect me?" I whispered. "You lied to me. You let me believe she just got sick and died."

I turned to the mirror, staring at the girl on the other side.

Pale skin, red-rimmed eyes, lips trembling.

She looked weak. Pathetic.

And I hated her.

With a choked sob, I ripped the clutcher from my hair and hurled it at the mirror. It hit the glass with a sharp clink before falling to the floor.

"You let me grieve alone," I whispered. "You let me be angry at her instead of the people who actually killed her."

More silence.

Then, my father spoke. "I—" His voice wavered. "I couldn't risk you getting hurt."

A bitter smile twisted my lips. "But she got hurt. And you said nothing."

I grabbed the nearest sharp object—a knife. My reflection in the mirror wavered, blurred by tears.

I grabbed a handful of my hair and cut.

The long strands fell to the floor, slipping through my fingers.

Again.

And again.

My once-long hair barely reached my shoulders now. My hands shook, breath rough and uneven, but I didn't stop.

I deserved this.

I wanted to erase this version of me.

Tears blurred my eyes.

"Sia!! Stop this!" My father slammed against the door, the wood trembling under his weight this time. "Please, open the door!"

I let out a dry chuckle. "Open the door? So what? So you can lie to me again?"

Another silence.

Then, his voice softened. "I don't want to lose you too…"

I froze.

For a second, just a second, something inside me wavered.

But then I remembered—he had already lost me.

He lost me the day he chose silence. A scream built up inside me, burning, forcing its way out—

And then it came.

Loud...broken.

I screamed until my throat hurt. Until there was nothing left in me.

My legs gave out, and I dropped to the floor.

I'm sorry I couldn't help you.

I'm sorry I fought you then for leaving me.

Please forgive me....forgive your daughter.

My hands reached for my scarf—the butterfly scarf.

Her scarf.

"Ma…" My voice was small, broken.

I was sitting there alone, but I could never forget that day.

She held on to my hand tight, her sickly figure lying on the bed.

Even though I had cried and screamed at her for leaving me, she had never stopped loving me...even until her last breath.

"You are stronger than they will ever understand, little butterfly. Never let them cage you."

Holding onto the scarf tight, I curled my fingers around the fabric.

I bent my body down, grinding my forehead to my knees.

"Just hold my hand," I whispered.

"Tell me it's okay to cry…"

Ma?

But there was no one left to answer.

No one left to hold me.

No one left to tell me I was still that little girl she loved.

Tears blurred my vision as I held the scarf tighter. My body shook with silent sobs.

I wasn't strong.

I wasn't brave.

I was just a girl who lost everything.

Outside the door, my father sighed. A long, exhausted sound. "Sia," he said, softer now. "I know you hate me. But I—" He exhaled shakily. "I never stopped loving you."

I laughed. A bitter, broken sound.

"Love?" I whispered. "Is that what you call this?"

Silence.

I wiped my face with trembling fingers and stood up, staring at my reflection again.

No.

I wasn't the same girl anymore.

That pathetic, weak little girl was gone.

And maybe that was for the best.

With a final, deep breath, I stepped toward the door.

I unlocked it.

The second it swung open, my father's eyes widened. His gaze immediately jumped to my hair—now uneven, choppy, and barely reaching my shoulders.

"Sia…"

I stared at him, my expression empty. "I won't cry anymore."

His face fell. "Sia, you don't have to—"

"I won't cry," I repeated, voice flat. "Not for her. Not for you. Not for anyone."

He swallowed hard. "Sia—"

"Tell me who killed her."

He trembled, eyes darting away.

I took a step closer.

"I am way stronger than you think, father."

"Tell me. Or I'll find out myself."

His hands clenched into fists. "It's not that simple—"

"It is," I interrupted. "Either you tell me, or I'll make sure every single person responsible suffers."

His jaw tightened. "Revenge won't bring her back."

I let out a cold laugh. "No, but it'll make sure no one else takes what's mine ever again."

Something in his face changed. Like he finally saw what I had become.

Or maybe… what I had always been.

"Sia," he whispered. "Don't do this."

I tilted my head, a small, humorless smile curling my lips. "You don't get to tell me what to do anymore, Dad."

And with that, I stepped past him.

For the first time in my life, I didn't feel like his daughter.

I felt like something else entirely.

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