I don't really know why I go to the ball.
I suppose it's because I already purchased the dress, and some small part of me hopes Viktor might show up at the ball at the last minute, unkempt but beautiful, apologetic and willing to at least have one dance.
Perhaps it's also so I don't have to think about the fact that I'd cut my hand on a rock last night on accident and when I came home he didn't even notice the injury.
Not even a question, "Where were you? Are you alright? Did anything happen?"
Nothing.
It's like he hadn't even noticed I'd left. All the times he'd worried about me being hurt when he wasn't looking, and he didn't even look up when blood dripped from my palm to the floor right near him.
He's always cared.
Even when he didn't know me...he'd cared...
So I tell myself he was just so tired he hadn't seen it last night. I bandaged my hand myself, and I hold a drink in my bandaged hand now as I sit at a table in the ball.
No one is going to approach me, I already know that.
I'm just the rich woman whose daddy is forcing her through a magical academy she doesn't belong in. Any 'friends' I'd collected in the first year had long since abandoned me.
The only one who would dance with me now is Viktor, and he's...suffering from success, too busy for the ball.
My gaze drifts up, as I watch the dance floor, couples and trios sweeping about gracefully, having fun. Some are obviously drunk - dancing messily and awkwardly, laughing. They still seem to be having fun, though.
The music begins to pick up pace, becoming a quicker paced melody, the sounds of feet rushing to catch up echoing. A more vigorous song.
A pair passes by me - both clearly not members of this class, stumbling around the floor and bumping into other dancers.
Eileen is in the crowd, thronged by the people who adore her now and gossip when her back is turned.
My lip twitches, and I drain my cup before grabbing another.
They love her. She's amazing. She's flawless. She's perfect. Eileen can do anything, it seems, and everyone worships the ground she walks on. She's just the most wonderful person. She's an absolute angel.
Oh, I know.
I know. I've been Eileen. I know how wonderful and sweet an pure she is, how everyone around her can't help but love her except for the surly, awful villainess Ophelia who irrationally hates her.
And this is most of the way through the game.
What's left is amazing adventures alongside whoever's route she is on, and eventually becoming empress.
I've played her story a thousand times, replaying it over and over just to hear Viktor say 'I love you' on a little screen again. And I...
I'm not jealous of her. Why would I be?
I only ever wanted one thing in this life.
In both of my lives.
To love Viktor.
If it costs me his love...then what use do I have for happiness?
What point is there in me?
I'm nothing.
No one.
A villainess designed to be hated, rejected by everyone around me in favor of Eileen.
I'm designed to be abandoned and forgotten as the people who are good get their happy ending.
That's my fate, my destiny, the reason I exist.
To be a foil to Eileen.
All that I have beyond that is Viktor.
And...
And I still have that.
My hands shake.
I still have Viktor, even if he's busy. He still loves me, he'll come back to me.
I need to stop feeling sorry for myself. I need to be stronger. I need to support him, like I promised myself I would do, or I'll lose him for good.
It'll be fine. It has to be fine. I have to believe that,
I don't want to lose him.
As if on cue, Eileen crashes into someone, spilling wine all over herself with a shocked gasp. Eileen sways a little on her feet, looking lost, searching for something to clean herself off with.
Then...she glances my way.
It's for a second, maybe two seconds. A brief moment of eye contact.
My lip curls, and I glance away from her.
Did she really think I'd help her?
Absurd.
I brush off the thought and return to my own self-pitying musings.
This ball is bad enough for my mental health without needing to focus on Eileen and how everyone in this entire damn place will trip over themselves to give her a handkerchief. The less I hear, see, or think about Eileen the better.
I just need to leave and head home and maybe curl up with a good book or...
Someone rushes over.
A slim hand touches mine. "Excuse me, I just need your-"
I snatch my hand back and turn, eyes blazing in anger.
Eileen blinks, flinching slightly in shock at my reaction.
The sight of it makes my heart twist painfully, but I can't stop myself, even knowing this girl is just innocent, sweet Eileen.
Miss Perfect Eileen.
Protagonist Eileen.
The Eileen no one, not even Viktor will shut up about, ever.
My heart screams at me to rip her to pieces, because she is taking the only thing I have in the entire world that matters and shredding it with her bare hands right in front of me.
"Haven't you taken enough from me?!" I snarl it, my voice louder than intended, "I know what you did with him! Do you think I don't know?!"
Of course I know! I know every. single. scene in Viktor's route. I could play it all in my head from memory right now if it wouldn't hurt me so much. "What are you planning to take from me next, you demon?"
The color drains from her face and she looks frightened and confused by my outburst, stepping backwards and shaking her head, stammering. "I..I..I..I'm..I didn't know I..."
Viktor appears in a blur of motion, stepping between us and placing his hand protectively around her glaring at me with ice in his eyes. "Enough! What are you doing harassing Eileen at a place like this?!"
The moment he stands up for her, everything else disappears from view - it's like all I can see is the way his arms are wrapped protectively around her waist.
The warmth in his green eyes when they're focused on her - the same ones that had always been gentle, no matter what happened.
The same ones that had looked at me - loving, protective, tender. They used to be mine, and now they're hers.
...I.
Can't breathe.
No, that's not it. It's more like...nothing exists. I can't move. Can't think. Can't breathe. I don't think my heart is beating, because - those eyes. The cold, empty, unfeeling eyes Viktor stares at me with.
They're exactly the same eyes my ex-husband gave me.
When I walked into the room in the middle of his affair.
Those empty, cold eyes.
My hand reaches up toward him. It's not a conscious act. "Vik...tor..."
He jerks back as if he'd just seen a wild animal, and my outstretched hand trembles. I've never heard his voice so angry.
Not even angry.
It's the tone someone uses to crush a bug beneath their heel. Cold. Inhuman. Disgusted.
"Don't call me that."
My entire body goes numb. I take a step back, shaking.
Another.
I...I have to...
I have to get away from that stare.
I run. I'm not graceful about it, and people stumble as I push my way through the crowd, shoving them aside before I hit the main doors. I need to-
I need to get away. I need to go back. I..
If I go back to our room, Viktor will be in there.
He'll be waiting for me, he'll be real and this will all be fake!
He'll be there, and I'll wake up beside him in our bed in the morning, he'll apologize for letting things slip, for forgetting the date, and he'll promise me everything will be different starting next week and we'll be together again like we were meant to be.
I crash into our room, eyes wild, desperate, more desperate than I've ever felt in my life, hoping to find my lover inside.
It's dark. It's cold.
It's empty.
The gift I'd given him, with his favorite legend, sits just barely in view, buried under a dozen other books and paperwork, clearly not touched in ages.
No. No. No. No. No.
I see it.
A pink feather, gently placed atop all of the mess of paperwork. The gift Eileen gave him when asking him to the ball.
This was...all this time I was on Viktor's route after all.
I laugh, but I can't stop. It keeps going, until I'm gasping for air. It doesn't matter. Nothing matters. I just laugh and laugh and laugh until my throat hurts and there are tears pouring down my face.
That's...
all it ever was.
When I played that game over and over, it was just a script. Just a book I read over and over with the same pre-written responses. And he just said the same ones here again. Because...
In this world or my first...
There was never a time when Viktor's love was real.
When he woke up at dawn to drag me to a ledge in the garden, just to talk about plants and legends he loved.
When he kissed me behind a statue, laughing when I squealed and blushing a little in surprise at himself.
When he blushed like mad at the innuendo of a single red rose, and changed topics so fast I got whiplash.
When he put a flower in my hair and talked about how flowers symbolize things like hope and life.
When he...when he looked at me...with such gentleness in his eyes as he asked me if I was okay for the thousandth time in the span of a few weeks, like he truly wanted to ensure that I was healthy and happy and safe.
When he told me the legend of the lovers.
All...
The little moments we shared...where he didn't say a word to me...and still managed to reassure me more than anyone else could.
All the smiles that were reserved just for me. The way his eyes sparkled whenever I entered the room.
Every single sweet word I treasured.
Every time he said he loved me
None of it was ever real.
I fall like a puppet with its strings cut. The discarded doll that I've always been destined to be.
I scream.
I scream so loud my lungs burn and I lose my voice, but I keep screaming because what's the point if no one cares?
Viktor has never been mine, any more than my husband had been.
It was all a lie. A fantasy. A game.
Tears spill down my face.
Not one person has ever loved me.
Not one person has ever cherished me.
Not one.
Not a single, solitary soul.