The Flaming Heart

It was a dark and dusty room. There was no fire in the hearth, as they would never allow it. Leila was laying on her tiny bed against the wall. She tried to place her bed as far away from the door and broken windows as possible. The wind chilled her to the bone at night. She was exhausted after another day of hard work. After only having a small piece of bread for dinner, she was still hungry. Yet she couldn’t sleep; the cold kept her awake.

She heard a voice, then a footstep. Someone was turning the doorknob. She hid herself under her sheet. She didn’t have the courage to sit up or confront them. She believed all horrible experiences would pass eventually, if she chose to bear it all, and wait for time to heal her wounds. This had always been her way of life. She shut her eyes and pretended to be asleep.

It was her uncle, her aunt’s husband. He entered her room, quietly tiptoeing. Leila felt a sense of relief wash over her. Her uncle had always been good to her. When her aunt wasn’t home, he would bring in some brushes and scrub her floor for a little while, or let her rest and eat a cookie. Sometimes, he would even save a tiny piece of sausage for her, which was a very tricky thing to do, seeing as her aunt had eyes like a hawk. She knew about everything that happened in her house - where the meat had been put, or how many bottles of wine were left. Leila used to try to sneak a small chunk of cheese to eat; she would be famished after all the dirty and heavy chores she was forced to do. Her aunt realized almost instantly. Leila was nearly beaten to death.

Her aunt hated her. Leila was a mongrel, born from a dragon and a human. She was also the reason her aunt’s sister died. Leila’s mother was just an ordinary citizen living in the city of King’s Harbour, a normal descendant of the dragons, the same as Leila’s aunt and uncle, holding the lowest rank among their race. However, Leila’s father was a human. Humans, the lesser race, were only allowed to be servants and slaves for dragons. Leila was the first-ever mongrel, a bastard, a disgusting half-blood. Her mother died as she was giving birth to her, and her father was so scared that he ran for his life. It was a secret, having a half-blood in this family. They had to keep her in the dark, or else the whole family would be executed for poisoning their sacred dragon blood. But Leila’s life was even worse than that of a human slave. She was hated by the human slaves in the house for her half-dragon blood, and she was abused by her dragon half-sisters and brothers; they saw her as a dirty stain on their family name.

All her life, her uncle was the only one who had shown her any kindness. She pretended to be asleep, but wondered what he had brought her - maybe a pie. She felt his hand gently caress her cheek. He brushed away her hair and pulled her sheet down a bit. She knew that he was staring at her. He sometimes did that to her, but his stare was loving and kind. She felt a kiss on her forehead. This was the first time he’d done that, but it wasn’t terrible. Then, suddenly, his mouth glided down to her neck, his hand rubbing her breasts and between her legs. His beastly hands clutched onto her so firmly. At first, she couldn’t figure out what he was doing. It didn’t seem like a game - it seemed like he simply wanted her body. A strange, tingling feeling arose inside her. She was shocked and opened her eyes, then pushed him away, using all her strength. He didn’t expect this reaction. Her uncle run away in embarrassment, scared that her aunt might have heard something.