Gillians eyes opened, squinting at the brightness as she emerged from the encompassing dark. Everything was a blur of motion and noise, she wailed with the sudden shock of the light, screaming, her eyes burning in the glow of the room. Feeling someone's hands around her form, a brush of air washing over her nake body, she sealed her eyes shut, finding the simple action hard to maintain. She soon found that the only sound she could make was a high pitched screeching. Her ears rang at the sound, but no matter how she tried to mouth other sounds they only came out as screams. Her throat grew sore with the prolonged sound, yet she could not stop no matter how much she wished to say something else. 

Gillian was brought into a warmth that enveloped her whole, comforting and safe. She found herself going quiet, stilling her frantic movements, as she tried to regain some control. 

"She's so small," a woman spoke, 

"She looks healthy," a gruff male voice sounded, 

It was the oddest of sensations, Gillian found she could no more than do nothing. The voice that spoke felt familiar yet not so all at once, it was as if she heard them in a dream of a dream, something that echoed in the darkness moments before she was forced into the blinding light.  It was only when she was placed somewhere cushioned, and barred side by side, that it dawned on her that she was in fact a newborn infant. 

Gillian rolled in her cot trying to stand but failing so, she grunted pawing at the bars. Movement was taxing, every slight lift of her arms and legs left aches and an overwhelming need to sleep. Her eyelids constantly tried to flutter close, as if a weight were dragging them down, and Gillian found no strength to fight the need for rest.  

"Restless aren't ya," a voice spoke, nor a pleasant or pleasing noise. Gillian knew the person was standing watching over her into the cot. 

Gillian tried to make a sound but it only came out as coos and gurgles. 

"Ye best be quiet, i don't want to be tendin' to ya all day and night." 

Gillian managed to pull herself to the bars, her small tender face squashed against the wood, her eyes squinted, it could not make out the person only shapes blurred in her vision. The infant huffed with annoyance, which made the adult standing by the cot sneer down at her. That left no doubt in Gillian's mind that the person held no fondness for her. 

"Ye 'ave that woman's hair," the voice, now Gillian realized, was a woman speaking. "I thought when i accepted this job I'd be nursin' her ladyship's babe, not some maids disregard." 

Gillian felt a need to yell at the woman, but knew she would only let out a wail. 

The woman did not lift or comfort Gillian throughout the time Gillian managed to stay awake, all she could do was lay on her back, staring up at the ceiling, where something dangling, a strange gather of glittering lights, mirrored around, shimmering into Gillians young eyes that made jiggling sounds whenever Gillian's small fingers reached it. 

It was the only solace Gillian had in her grewing isolation. She was glad though, better than her cell, which held no light, nor even a window, just sleek damp stone, dirt filled floors, and clanging chains. She could almost imagine the feel of rats scurrying across her legs, not scared of people as they wandered freely among the jail. She knew that if she had stayed long enough like others had she would have been tempted to quench her hunger by feasting on one of those rats, or worse if none ventured into her cells for long enough a cockroach or two. 

Gillian felt bile fill her throat, not because the thought of eating such things sickened her, but because knowing in her current state how better it would have been if she had, for at least it would have been fresh, not rotting and molded like the food she had forced herself to eat. 

Gillian in her infant state did not have the control to keep the sick down, and vomited over herself, she felt mixture slide down her cheeks and chin, she coughed, and choked, trying to roll on her side before her throw up blocked her throat. There was a low growl from the woman sat next to the cot, her chair squeaked as she got up, she lifted Gillian up out the cot, pinching with uncomfortableness under her arms, with a hard grip. 

“Ye stupid thing, look what ya done,” she spoke angrily, she roughly wiped Gillians face with something that scratched and scrapped, Gillian couldn’t help but cry, having no way else to tell the woman of her hurt. 

“Shut up,” she spat, “ye ugly, annoying little brat. Ye’ve stunk up the place with ye filth.” she dropped Gillian not so gently down back in the cot. “I told ya to be quiet.” Gillian whimpered, the woman laughed, “silence,” she said low, “silence,” It was not long till the world seemed to dim, and Gillian heard the soft snores of the woman. 

The woman, who Gillian had guessed was her nursemaid, Lita, only ever handled Gillian in the mornings and late afternoons, to feed and change her, other than that she simply left Gillian alone, and went into a frenzy of anger if she heard even a peep from Gillian. 

The loud sounds and booming vocals scared the baby, her tiny ears could only take so much, it confused her, how much the yelling made her ears pound, as if they were to burst. She would try not to cry but when Lita grabbed her so harshly to feed or change her it was hard not to. From the grip of the woman's hands Gillian knew she left marks on her body. But she could do nothing. She learnt to be as silent as possible, even in situations where sound was needed. People who had come to see the new baby were unsettled by her quietness, the nursemaid simply told them that she was a slow child. They would then look down at the baby with pity. 

Gillians mother would often come to see her daughter, she was a warm sense of joy in Gillian's life, she felt safe when she heard the voice of her mother. Funnily enough in this life Gillian found her name was the same, her mother had cooed down at her that she was named after a great nature spirit. She playful called Gillian ‘Gillie’, happily rocking her in her arms. Gillian hated how she loved this person, from the whispering of the people around her and snide remarks from Lita she knew her mother had been a maid, a commoner, and now a beloved mistress of the lord. Those of low blood were nothing but bugs, dirty things, small and insignificant, their only worth was to serve. Yet her mother was one, she shared blood with one.  Gillian wished pain on whomever sent her to be this woman's child, for she could not hate the only person who seemed to love her in this world. After days, weeks or even months, Gillian knew not how long it had been but, she accepted the new fact, though all she knew had her telling herself not give such a person her attention, she could not deny it. She gleefully gurgled whenever her mother appeared, and prayed she would not leave her soon. 

She dreaded those times when she would walk out the room and Lita would coldly stare down at her, commanding silence. It was suffocating, she never never felt such horrid swells of panic and fright. She knew if Lita were given the chance she would Hurt Gillian. 

Gillian's father, it seemed, was indifferent to Gillian, it was not often when he came to inspect the infant's condition. Gillian knew that most lords acted so with daughters, especially illegitimate ones. She was not surprised. Though it shocked her that her mother and herself were allowed to live in the main house, and not given accommodations elsewhere. From the short glimpses outside the window with her mother, she knew they were somewhere in the countryside. A large cottage or small manor house would be an expected place to put a mistress and love child, somewhere close within his lands. But Gillian knew from the maids who occasionally cleaned her nursery that she was in the family wing of the estate. 

She had begun to think that perhaps the lord was not married yet, and her mothers station was the only thing keeping them from marrying. But Gillian had found that not the case when a woman who was not her mother nor Lita had visited her. The woman brought her two children, a daughter and a son, the son was two years older than Gillian and the daughter three. These were her half siblings, and the woman was the lady of the estate. The lord's lawful wife.  

By the time the lady had graced Gillian's presence, she had developed her sight and could see things clearly. The woman was pale, a contrast to Gillian's brown skin. Her hair was a sweet strawberry blonde, with golden caramel eyes. Her lips were pink, and she held a dusting of freckles. Gillian knew the woman she saw was the opitany of nobility, she was beauty and grace, a long slender frame. Her children bore the same resemblance to her, but with the expectation of the boy having forest green hair that seemed to catch in the light much like the leaves on an old oak tree, the shade the same as the lords, and just like the lord's eyes the daughter shared his deep purple irises. 

The children gawked at the baby, the normally lazy nursemaid sprung into action when the lady appeared, greeting her with great respect. “So this is that woman's offspring,” the woman spoke, her gaze piercing right into Gillian. 

“Yes, m’lady,” 

Gillian felt something tug at her arm, it was forced through the bars, her body was pulled with the actions, as she was crushed against the bars of the coat. She kept her mouth shut, despite wanting to scream at the pain. She saw the boy who was pulling her arm, painfully twisting it as if it were a toy. Gillian felt a whimper on her lips, her nose run, and eyes dripped, yet still no noise. The boy frowned, he tightened his fists around her arm, and pulled harder. 

“She’s not crying mummy, why isn’t she crying!” he shouted, 

The girl sniggered looking at Gillian, “Dora told me she was slow,” 

“Slow?” 

The girl nodded at her brother, proudly explaining the meaning, “she’s stupid, somethings wrong with her brain. Dora said she’s a waste of space.” 

The boy began laughing, “so she won’t do anything?” 

The lady sniffed at Gillian, “she ought to be drowned. She’ll be an embarrassment to the family.” 

“Stupid and ugly.” the girl agreed with her mother, smiling, “you shouldn’t touch her Thomas, she’s dirty. Right mummy?” 

The lady stroked her daughter's hair lovingly, “that’s right, dear, she had dirty blood. We must remember, though she is your fathers daughter, she is not your sister,” 

The two children nodded to their mother, “I can still play with her right though mummy?” Thomas asked, 

The lady took a moment to answer. She glanced at the way Thomas held the baby's arm painfully and tightly through the bars, the skin had already begun to turn red. She grinned, “of course,” 

The boy let go of Gillians arm jumping up and down cheering. The girl frowned, “but mummy, he shouldn’t play with something like her,” 

“Henrietta, you know how rough your brother plays, it’s best he plays with her rather than with you. I do not like how messy you become after you play with Thomas.” 

Henrietta pouted to the side, “fine,” 

“Come along now children, it is nearly tea time.” 

Both the children grinned, “yay! Cakes!” Thomas jumped excitedly, they both hurried out of the room, just before the lady left, she turned to gaze down at Gillian, something close to murderous flickered across her pretty face. “Yes,” she said as if finishing something off from her mind. “Just an insufficient bug.”