Read Online Blood, Milk & Chocolate - Part 1 (The Grimm Diaries Book 3) by Cameron Jace - Free Book Online Page B
Book: Blood, Milk & Chocolate - Part 1 (The Grimm Diaries Book 3) by Cameron Jace
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Authors: Cameron Jace
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Theodora
Goldstein's eyes were flooded with empathy that didn't quench my thirst to be
the most beautiful of them all.
"Tell
me I'm the most beautiful of them all, Mother." I wasn't myself anymore. I
was the beast of anger and unfairness in me. I was all my darkness. I was all
that I wasn't supposed to be: angry, envious, and hurt. "Tell it to me
every day. I don't care if you're lying to me. I don't care if I am ugly. If I
am paying the price to keep all of Styria happy then this is the least you can
do."
I found
myself running into her arms and crying myself to death. It felt better that
way. The weakness I cherished in my mother's long arms helped the beast in me
to rest in sleep. The beast inside was in pain. A pain I couldn't explain
myself. Again, I don't think I understood completely by then.
As I dozed
off in her arms, feeling the need to crawl back in her womb and hide away from
this unfair world, several apple trees caught my eye through the window. It
made me feel I hated apples the most. For those silly fruits to grow, for those
silly red things to bring prosperity to Styria, I had to pay too much of a
price. And by looking at them, all I could see was the color of blood the
vampires had sucked out of the Karnsteins.
***
To this
day, I still respect my mother for not succumbing to my insecurity and wanting
to be called "most beautiful of them all." Somehow, the phrase
"fairest of them all" rang better with her, and I accepted it
eventually.
I began
watching other girls closer, noticing their beauty—or
ugliness—and realized how much it affected their lives. To be honest, I
envied some of them. But I also pitied most of them; girls who were average
looking and had lesser chances and opportunities in life because of their
looks. I thought it wasn't fair how some boys preferred the beauties to them
without knowing who these girls really were. For a girl who was never going to
see her own reflection, I felt occasionally blessed when I realized that I
could imagine myself the most beautiful in the world and never have to face the
contradicting truth.
But again,
not seeing how I looked drove me crazy day after day. I couldn't even get a
feeling of it in the eyes of other boys my age. None of the boys in our land
dared to lay eyes on me. They feared my father, who, although kind and gentle
to me, was a feared warrior and count outside our castle's walls. His
overprotectiveness turned the beautiful boys away from me.
One day I
sat weeping for hours under a willow tree, wondering how I was going to ever
meet my knight in a shining armor—although I preferred his armor wasn't
"shining," so I would not see my reflection and be the cause of my
family's pain.
The other
disadvantage was that I never learned how to swim. In fact, I began fearing
water in many ways. All circumstances led me to give in. I was never going to
see my reflection. Ever.
Until…
13
Until
my whole world crumbled when the most beautiful boy in the world laid eyes on
me for the first time.
The first
boy to ever dare lay eyes on me in spite of my father's promise to punish
whoever did. If you were a boy, looking at me equaled an iron maiden slicing
your throat.
He was an
unusual boy. His boldness and steady gaze were admirable, yet intimidating, as
if I had wished to be looked upon by softer eyes. The boy's eyes promised great
passion, intense desire, but also dire consequences. I could read it all in one
glance.
But it
wasn't only the boldness in his look. It was the admiration for my looks that
shook me all over. He looked at me as if his life depended on coming closer, as
if he had been parted from the air he breathed when he saw me, and as if he had
known my soul since long ago and was about to not only introduce himself to me,
but introduce me to my real self.
I
estimated him to be two years older than me. He was taller than my father. His
eyes were black with that unexplainable hue of gold, like meteors
Goldstein's eyes were flooded with empathy that didn't quench my thirst to be
the most beautiful of them all.
"Tell
me I'm the most beautiful of them all, Mother." I wasn't myself anymore. I
was the beast of anger and unfairness in me. I was all my darkness. I was all
that I wasn't supposed to be: angry, envious, and hurt. "Tell it to me
every day. I don't care if you're lying to me. I don't care if I am ugly. If I
am paying the price to keep all of Styria happy then this is the least you can
do."
I found
myself running into her arms and crying myself to death. It felt better that
way. The weakness I cherished in my mother's long arms helped the beast in me
to rest in sleep. The beast inside was in pain. A pain I couldn't explain
myself. Again, I don't think I understood completely by then.
As I dozed
off in her arms, feeling the need to crawl back in her womb and hide away from
this unfair world, several apple trees caught my eye through the window. It
made me feel I hated apples the most. For those silly fruits to grow, for those
silly red things to bring prosperity to Styria, I had to pay too much of a
price. And by looking at them, all I could see was the color of blood the
vampires had sucked out of the Karnsteins.
***
To this
day, I still respect my mother for not succumbing to my insecurity and wanting
to be called "most beautiful of them all." Somehow, the phrase
"fairest of them all" rang better with her, and I accepted it
eventually.
I began
watching other girls closer, noticing their beauty—or
ugliness—and realized how much it affected their lives. To be honest, I
envied some of them. But I also pitied most of them; girls who were average
looking and had lesser chances and opportunities in life because of their
looks. I thought it wasn't fair how some boys preferred the beauties to them
without knowing who these girls really were. For a girl who was never going to
see her own reflection, I felt occasionally blessed when I realized that I
could imagine myself the most beautiful in the world and never have to face the
contradicting truth.
But again,
not seeing how I looked drove me crazy day after day. I couldn't even get a
feeling of it in the eyes of other boys my age. None of the boys in our land
dared to lay eyes on me. They feared my father, who, although kind and gentle
to me, was a feared warrior and count outside our castle's walls. His
overprotectiveness turned the beautiful boys away from me.
One day I
sat weeping for hours under a willow tree, wondering how I was going to ever
meet my knight in a shining armor—although I preferred his armor wasn't
"shining," so I would not see my reflection and be the cause of my
family's pain.
The other
disadvantage was that I never learned how to swim. In fact, I began fearing
water in many ways. All circumstances led me to give in. I was never going to
see my reflection. Ever.
Until…
13
Until
my whole world crumbled when the most beautiful boy in the world laid eyes on
me for the first time.
The first
boy to ever dare lay eyes on me in spite of my father's promise to punish
whoever did. If you were a boy, looking at me equaled an iron maiden slicing
your throat.
He was an
unusual boy. His boldness and steady gaze were admirable, yet intimidating, as
if I had wished to be looked upon by softer eyes. The boy's eyes promised great
passion, intense desire, but also dire consequences. I could read it all in one
glance.
But it
wasn't only the boldness in his look. It was the admiration for my looks that
shook me all over. He looked at me as if his life depended on coming closer, as
if he had been parted from the air he breathed when he saw me, and as if he had
known my soul since long ago and was about to not only introduce himself to me,
but introduce me to my real self.
I
estimated him to be two years older than me. He was taller than my father. His
eyes were black with that unexplainable hue of gold, like meteors
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