Tana

⚠️ Content Warning: This is a disturbing flashback exploring the past of a central character, including themes of manipulation, familial betrayal, and sexual abuse. Proceed with care.

(Tana's POV)

10,000 Years Ago — Tana's Flashback

"Vetro is a problem."

"Yeah... he's starting to scare me. We have to do something about him."

I heard my siblings conspiring behind my brother's back. They whispered about sedating him, restraining him. I'd overheard things before—accusations that he was unstable, cruel, even insane—but to me, he'd never been anything but kind. I couldn't believe them. What scared me wasn't Vetro—it was them.

So instead of confronting them, I warned him.

"I can't believe... they would say that about me," he whispered, gently smiling as he ran his fingers through my hair.

"Thank you for telling me, Tana."

I beamed with pride."I'm sure it's all just a misunderstanding. If you talk to them, I know it'll be okay. You're not dangerous, you're—"

"You're looking more and more like Mother every day… so beautiful," he said, cutting me off.

I blushed at the compliment. My mother was the definition of beauty.

"Thank you. But don't brush me off! Promise you'll talk to them."

He nodded and looked out the window."Oh, I will. I promise."

The next day, everything burned.

Fires choked the skies, painting the horizon red. My home was in ruins. I found my brothers' severed heads lying in the grass outside. The air reeked of ash and blood.

I ran, desperate, and found my sisters crying and screaming—Vetro had gone mad, they said. He'd murdered our father. Killed our brothers. He'd destabilized the planetary core. They claimed he was coming for our mother next.

"No!" I screamed. "You're wrong! V would never do that! And if he did—he must've had a reason!"

They stared at me like I was possessed.

"He smiled, Tana," Larina shrieked. "He smiled when he killed Dad! I saw it!"

I couldn't breathe.

If it was true... then this was my fault. I warned him. I gave him time. My brothers, my father—maybe even our mother—died because of me.

My sisters turned on me, assuming I'd taken his side. I had no choice but to fight back. I didn't want to die.

In the chaos, I killed them.

My survival instincts surged. My telekinesis exploded. I ripped them apart. But not before Larina cursed me with her dying breath:

"May the wounds I gave you never heal, so you'll never forget how you betrayed your family."

Her spell took root. My face—torn open—refused to mend. In desperation, I stitched her skin onto mine just to stop the bleeding.

After that, Vetro and I were exiled. Three of our siblings managed to overpower him, and our mother sealed the planet from him with a divine barrier.

So we came to Earth.

He built us a home on empty land. I tried to adapt. I wore bandages over Larina's skin, as Vetro suggested, to hide the disfigurement. I tended the fields, made clothes, and traded with humans. I did what I could to blend in.

"Look what I made!" I said, holding up a robe embroidered with falling feathers—symbolic, sentimental.

Vetro stood by the window, brooding. He only glanced at my work.

"Why are you wasting time trading with humans?" His tone was cold. Dismissive. Nothing like the man I knew.

"...Because we live here now..." I answered softly.

"So what? They should be bowing to us. You've perfected a useless hobby." His frown deepened, and he slammed the door behind him.

For the first time, I was afraid of him.

But I pushed the feeling away. This whole situation is stressful. I bet I can cheer him up. I cooked his favorite meal and finished the robe. He had built this house for us when we were banished; this is the least I can do. I knocked on his door.

"Hey, sorry to bother you but—"

He flung it open. He was sweaty, as if he had just exercised strenuously, wearing only a robe and underwear. I offered a timid smile.

"I made stew... and I finished your surprise."

"How thoughtful," he murmured. "Is there a reason?"

"Just you. I wanted to make you feel better."

He ran his fingers down my arm. I flinched.

Then he grabbed my wrist.

"What are you—?" I began, but he dragged me into his room, tossed me on the bed, and pinned my wrists with one hand.

"That hurts... I can't move—"

"Shut up."

He lifted my dress. Covered my face. I felt his hand on my thighs. I squirmed. Cried.

"I'm sorry—I don't know what I did—"

He didn't stop. He thrust into me over and over, grunting and panting, ignoring the cries escaping my lips. He couldn't even see my face. I don't know if he even noticed how much I was crying. Or if he would've cared.

Time blurred. The stew spoiled.

That night, I curled into myself, trembling. The brother who once hugged me, protected me, had broken something inside me.

But the next day... he smiled again. As if nothing happened.

"Is this my surprise?" he asked, seeing the robe laid across his chair.

"Y-yeah," I mumbled.

He sniffed it. Smiled. "Blue. My favorite color."

He changed in front of me, then kissed my forehead.

"I love it," he said. And then he kissed me on the lips. When I pulled away, he pinned me to the wall.

"I love you more, though."

His kisses grew hungrier. Rougher. He grinded into me, and I realized how he'd always seen me, not as a sister. As something he could possess.

After that, it never stopped.

He touched me every day. If I resisted, he bruised me. Broke bones. Refused to let me eat or drink until he got what he wanted. Healing quickly meant he could be as rough as he pleased.

A year passed, and I stopped fighting. My body responded even when I didn't want it to. I started craving his touch. I hated myself for it. I knew he'd conditioned me, twisted my instincts—but knowing didn't make it stop.

"Good morning, Tana," he said one day, groping me while I cooked. Then he bent me over the counter, took me from behind, and left me on the floor while he drank from the fridge. I've tried to leave before, but every time I did, I blacked out and woke up in his bed. So I stopped trying.

This isn't the life I wanted. But maybe... I love him. Maybe this is normal. Maybe he loves me and it's just hard for him to express feelings...

One day, I was going to the market.

"Where are you going?" he asked, glaring.

"To sell our goods... get groceries."

"Why the fuck are you always mingling with those things?"

"...We need to blend in. It's normal here."

"I'll kill every human in this town if I have to. Do I need to cut off your legs to keep you home?"

"I'm coming back," I whispered, already dead inside.

"I just hate being apart from you," he cooed, tilting my chin. "Fine. Let's go together."

The pit in my stomach grew. But I smiled anyway.

"Perfect solution," I lied.

We kissed in the doorway like nothing was wrong.

When we arrived at the market, a woman asked, "Is this your husband?"

"...Yes," I lied.

Vetro laughed—mocking, not amused.

Later, he whispered, "Why are you lying?"

"It's easier than explaining... the way you look at me."

"So you want to conform to human morality? Just like Mother. Both of you—fools."

I tried to focus on customers, but he grew more possessive. Especially around men. He touched me vulgarly, glared at anyone who lingered. When we got home, he was more violent than usual, convinced I wanted other men.

The ferocity increased when I apologized and begged for forgiveness. He made sure I never forgot who I belonged to. 

Now, he won't let me go anywhere without him. And he refuses to let me wear bandages over my face.

Whenever I went out to the Market after that, he came with me and wouldn't allow me to bandage my face. With scars unhidden, even the regulars wouldn't buy from me.