Page 26 of The Blackened Blade

I watch Mr. Finch’s expression as I make my way past him and up to a seat at the back of the class. Hereallydidn’t like me. His lips are pursed and posture slightly rigid, his gaze dripping with contempt before he turns away, passing out sheets to each desk as more students slowly filter into the room and take their seats.

There's a few more empty spaces than last week, meaning I have a few spare spaces between me and the rest of the class.

I also notice the blue-eyed stabby guy isn't here either.

Other than a few glares from some of the students and a couple more disgruntled looks from Mr. Finch, everything goes by normally.

The bell rings, ending the class and I get up, slowly making my way toward the next class, before pausing as I realise what it is.Music of the Arts.

And Monday's lesson meant a shared class, with the second, third and fourth years.

Which meant Ivy.

And Seria.

And Kane, Xander, Knox and Anders.Fun.

I head to the class, stopping before making my way into the room and that's when I see them.

Knox’s light brown hair falls to one side, his other completely shaved, as he leans back on his seat with his feet resting on the nearest desk.

Anders creeps up beside him, a wicked grin on his lips and gleam in his green eyes as he pushes Knox forward, almost toppling him over. His blonde shoulder length hair sways side to side as he chuckles at a narrow-eyed Knox.

Knox shakes his head, catching Anders in a choke hold as they both laugh and play together. That playful nature of theirs, and warm smiles, once made me feel safe and at peace and a part of something when I had nothing and no-one.

Kane and Xander stand to the left of them, watching on and cheering. Their backs are to the door, but there's no mistaking Kane’s athletic build and brown wavy hair, or Xander’s brawny stature and tight cut black hair style.

I’m hit by a short memory from our younger days, and one before Seria’s arrival.

Large tears trickle from my small eyes as I crouch down further, curling into a small ball as I clutch my knees closer. Another sniffle sounds out around me as I wipe away more tears.

I didn’t like this day, each year it always felt too long and the looks from father and all the other adults…a cold shiver runs up my bent back.

They didn’t like me normally, and usually just ignored me, doing the bare minimum for me to exist, but on this day, every year, I couldfeelthe anger and hate in their gazes.

The day of my birth was the day I took my mother from my father.

I killed her…that's what the servants all tell me each year. That's why father can’t bear to look at me or be around me for long…because I remind him of what I took from him.His mate.

A mate was something precious, something you only get once they say…and I killed her by being born.

Every year, on this day, I learnt it was best to hide, to find somewhere far away from everyone's gazes and words. I couldn’t take the look on their faces when they saw me, and with each year that I grew older, they grew angrier.

My stomach rumbles as I wipe another tear away, a familiar ache rolling through me as I move. I rub the empty spot, hoping the hunger pain would soon pass.

Normally someone would make me a small breakfast or snack; some porridge or a small apple. They would take it to my room and tell me to eat quietly and not botherFather.

But on this day, with their angry looks, they would whisper hurtful words if I asked for anything.

‘Food? Isn’t it nice to be alive and able to eat? Something your poor mother can’t do anymore.’

‘All you do is take, take, take. The master doesn’t deserve such a selfish brat.’

‘Food for you? I think you’ve taken enough from the master, don't you?’

‘You’re hungry? You won’t die from not eating for a day or two, will you?’

‘Don’t ask for anything today, not so much as a crumb. Something like you should live like a dead rat–’

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