Warning: mention of blood.
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"I love this song," the excited voice exclaimed, then singing the part she could, "we were just 2 kids too young and dumb, nanananana, hmmm hmmm..."
"2 kids, too young and dumb.... we were just too... we were just too young and dumb."
Faced with this excited voice, Harmonie had no choice but to open her eyes. Her gaze directed toward the ceiling, a tear escaped from her eye, then another. And she didn't know why she felt so sad.
She had the feeling she had just had a long, rather sad dream.
She decided to get up very slowly so as not to wake Adélaïde, and made her way to the bathroom.
Her gaze landed on her reflection in the mirror. She observed herself in silence.
Something was off. Why was she so sad? This wasn't like usual.
She got ready quickly before going to enjoy the morning with her daughter.
"H!"
Harmonie straightened up and turned toward Chloé's voice, who was running toward her, alarmed. Harmonie saw a car heading straight for her. She found herself frozen in the face of the danger, but at the very last second Chloé managed to pull her to safety.
"Harmonie? Harmonie?" Harmonie turned her head toward the voice that seemed quite distant.
"Baby, are you okay?" Harmonie saw Cassandre sitting across from her, holding a sleeping Adélaïde in her arms.
Harmonie smiled and said, "Yes, I'm fine. Sorry, I was a little lost in my thoughts, Émi. What were you saying?"
"I was asking you if you'd like — Watchout."
Harmonie saw Cassandre shield her with her body. Her face lifeless.
She jolted awake. "Ha! Ha. Hah..."
Her breathing ragged from what she had just dreamed. She tried to remember it but it was impossible.
Cassandre, who had woken up in turn, looked at her with worry.
"No, it's nothing. Just a bad nightmare."
Harmonie said to reassure her.
Cassandre looked at her with soft eyes and opened her arms, inviting her to cuddle.
Harmonie didn't say no to such an offer.
...
Harmonie didn't know why, but she found the situation strange. She couldn't explain it. She had this feeling of an immense void within her despite being surrounded by her family.
....
The scene shifted again.
She found herself standing in front of a crosswalk. She wasn't alone, a 2-year-old child stood before her, and before she could even make sense of the situation or get a look at the child's face, the little one bolted across the road, running as fast as their small body would allow.
Harmonie's body was already in motion, running to catch the child, the blinding headlights and the blaring horn of the truck heading straight toward them. It was too late.
'Oh, no...'
...
A few days later
"Still no activity?"
"No, none..." the doctor replied.
"We're going to have to announce that a decision needs to be made about whether to disconnect her or not..."
The doctors' gazes fell on Harmonie's motionless body. She was connected to various machines keeping her alive — if one could call it that.
...
Hearing the door open, Damien raised his head.
Princess had decided to isolate him in a clean, well-lit room that appeared comfortable on the surface, omitting, of course, the toilet nearby, and the absence of any mirror or means of seeing his own reflection.
Princess knew the profile of people like Damien. She was told that torturing him physically would do her no good, it was exactly what someone like him would expect.
She knew that a person like him could not feel remorse. He had no conscience. The best way to make him suffer intelligently was to exploit his weaknesses, the loss of control and any blow to his image. But it was not enough for her...
And ironically, Princess found this process more interesting than the idea of making him suffer physically.
To do so, she would use three methods specifically designed for Damien like she was told to do.
The first being isolation. She knew her biological father paid close attention to his appearance — going as far as self-proclaiming himself King.
And she wanted to play on that obsession. One of her teammates had even come up with the idea of occasionally presenting him with a distorting mirror from time to time.
The goal was to make him feel the blow to his image.
But now -
Princess entered the room. She flashed a brief smirk that disappeared almost immediately, giving Damien the impression he had imagined it.
A chair had already been set up across from Damien.
Princess sat down.
"Why?" The familiar question reached Damien's ears.
Damien had already been locked up for several days. He didn't know exactly how many — all he knew was that his frustration was becoming increasingly uncontrollable. Princess had come every single day, asking the same question — the same word. One word.
He had ignored her at first, but as time went on he found himself wanting to provoke a reaction in Princess. He wanted to fill her with rage. He wanted to torment her , but it was he who ended up tormented.
She didn't react to his provocations. She always had a smile plastered on her face.
The loss of control and the blow to his image pushed Damien to unconsciously confess his crimes.
It would have been a lie to say Princess was not affected by what he told her, but she kept her composure.
It wasn't time yet at the time.
Damien's crimes were many, too many, but the ones that mattered to her were the most sordid.
He had killed Harmonie's mother. He was responsible for Hazel's death and Harmonie's coma, his relentless targeting of the latter being nothing more than the result of his ego having been wounded by a child. He had orchestrated Alex's accident, who in his eyes had been an obstacle to his plans.
Damien looked at Princess and smiled. A definitively mocking smile. He wanted to make her crack.
Princess glanced at her pocket watch. Then she straightened up.
It's time, Damien thought.
"Zero." Princess finally added.
Yes. Damien told himself.
Princess had been counting down, and at each visit she announced the number remaining.
He was curious to know what the countdown was for, and it wasn't as though he hadn't tried to get her to talk, but it was nearly impossible.
Princess stood up and walked out of the room, saying to the guards posted at the door, "Let's begin."
A ruthless, murderous glint flashed through her eyes before returning to normal.
It was time for her revenge. She was done with playtime.
...
The room was dark. A lamp illuminated a table covered in several tools. Some still bearing traces of previous use.
Princess entered the room. A black surgical mask over her face and clear protective goggles over her eyes. Black boots on her feet. She also wore a black apron over her clothes.
Her teammates had compared her to a butcher but she cared little.
The sound of her boots on the concrete woke the person suspended in the cell.
He raised his head, and a flicker of surprise crossed his gaze before a smile appeared.
"Daria..." he said. "I told you that you were my finest creation."
Then he laughed. As though Princess's decision was exactly what he had expected — because only his worthy heir could react this way and be willing to kill for revenge.
"Hmm..." Princess hummed softly, neither agreeing nor disagreeing. She walked toward the wood-burning stove in the room. She stared at the fire as though in a trance before making her way to the tool table. She picked up a branding iron and placed the tip into the fire.
Then she returned to the table, completely ignoring Damien's monologue behind her. He was putting on an air of superiority, telling her what to do as though Princess were a child in front of a pile of toys.
His haughty and dismissive demeanor almost gave the impression he had the situation under control, and that it wasn't he who was about to endure the worst atrocities he himself had cited as examples of his own achievements.
Princess ran her hand over the tools, and her choice landed on a hammer. She examined the object, made a few back-and-forth swings as though weighing it, then smiled.
"Dear father — I have a feeling we're going to have quite a bit of fun." The word father , she had said it with venom, but her smile never left her face.
Damien smiled too. But not for long.
Outside the prison
"Usually it's Bamby who handles the torture, right?" said one of the guards.
"Yes, but -"
He was cut off by a piercing scream.
"I don't think there's any reason for us to stay here."
"You're right, let's go."
And they left as fast as their legs could carry them.
...
Princess came out of the room covered in blood. She turned to her teammate assistant who had just arrived.
"Don't go in there. Let Bamby know it needs to be treated. Before it's too late."
Then she left, without looking back.
The assistant didn't go in but took a quick glance inside the cell. He held back from vomiting up everything in his stomach.
His face completely pale, he turned his terror-filled gaze toward Princess.