She was running, hands holding up the bottom of a very long dress. Rain plastering long strands of hair to her face and neck, lighting illuminating her way. The path was one of cobblestone, smooth in some places, jagged in others.

Her heart hammered in her chest, no matter how fast she ran, she felt the gazes, she felt her captors closing in. Tears blended with rain, makeup running down her face, creating a mask of mixed colors.

Then came the first voice, so familiar and too close,

‘You are a tool, nothing more. No one can love you. No one wants to be with you.’

The words like a hot poker in her chest.

The other voice, one she knew all too well,

‘No one wants such a damaged plaything. You know your purpose, you have no value beyond that.’

The cruelty cutting like a razor into her very soul.

‘He’ll get bored and throw you away.’

The laughter ringing in her ears as she desperately tried to block the voice out.

‘Give it up, accept what you are. Damaged, broken, unworthy.’

The words cutting into her with the precision of a surgeon’s scalpel.

The pain was real, and it hurt, words designed to break her down, keep her compliant. Keep her trapped in the cage.

But this time the Nix stops, whirling to face her tormentors. The drenched Treasured looked a mess, but the anger and strength were rolling off her like a tidal wave.

Hands clenched into fists at her sides,

“SHUT UP!” she roared, putting everything she had into it. The power was enough to blow back the rain, her Mantle whipping up what water remained into a whirlwind around her.

She was not that girl anymore. Not the scared little girl who shut down and accepted what she was told. Not anymore, never again.

Then blackness as she sat straight up in her bed. Sheets were tangled in her legs, pillows in disarray, her body drenched in sweat. As her heart hammered in her chest, she focused on her breathing.

It was just a dream. Just a dream. She was safe.

Right?