/basically telling the story of her necklace and her scars. replies r fine!! also might be somewhat triggering so be careful while reading pls!!

She didn't have many valuables. She cherished the non-material things, her memories and the people around her mostly. But the one thing that she valued above all was the one thing her mother ever gave her. She had been a kind person, not a bitter bone in her body despite how they lived, always teaching Cosette new lessons as parents should. But her need to give to her child wasn't always a good thing. There wasn't much for a slave to give, after all. So she went to the ones who had those things.

Stealing from the masters weren't allowed. Of course, it was among the worst offenses, disobeying their orders being at the top. But she had done it with love, stolen a precious necklace that belonged to one of the ladies of the house just so she could give it to her daughter, re-brandished it with her love and her sacrifice. Maybe she knew that they would be separated soon, that just a few days later Cosette would be taken away to some new place with new masters. It would work as a reminder of her, a physical token of her memory.

But, in the end, it just became a reminder of nothing else but blood and tears. Among her many horrible experiences, she remembered this one so vividly, still able to feel them holding her down as her mother was beat for her crime against them. The hooked-whip bit at her body, slicing at her skin and leaving long red trails, her blood flowing and soaking into the dirt.

She remembered yelling, screaming so loud her throat was scratchy. Her face was wet with tears. But she still kept the jewelry; somehow she had managed to keep it from her masters, and now she still wore it, it's ruby gem glinting whenever it met the light.

How cruel her mother's love had been to her.

--

Unknown to everyone else, the female carried many reminders with her, not just the amulet that always seemed to adorn her neck. She had them on her own back, long stripes of her pain. She should have learned from her mother's mistakes, but she was naive, still young.

She had followed in her steps, becoming a thief though it wasn't from wanting to give to others. Maybe then she could have been a little more proud of what she had done. But no, she was selfish and sometimes she wondered if the whipping had been deserved. It was her first beating, but it wasn't quite her last. Her skin was scarred from many incidents, many punishments for her wrong-doings. She always accepted that she deserved it.

Luckily they never showed, hidden under her fur, safe from the view and scrutiny of others. She would never be able to escape her past with everyone knowing about them. But, with her fur disheveled as it was now, it parted and the old scars peeked through, dark red and pink showing up harshly against her tan coat.

Cosette shook herself, hazy still from sleep as she padded through the caverns, not realizing that her healed wounds were on display for others to see.

The past was a difficult thing to outrun.