Cassandra had never been understood. Every time she opened her mouth, no one would listen. Her opinion was disregarded and dismissed as the ramblings of the insane. She couldn't remember one moment where her voice wasn't stifled.

So, she sat there–silent.

Hoping that maybe someone would ask, “Cassandra–what do you think about this?”

It wasn't like she could answer them anyway. They had crushed her and her voice.

She hadn’t always been quiet. When she knew things before they happened, and could say something, she did. But after years of being shut up for her voice, years of them telling her that her opinions didn't matter because she was insane...she got rid of it herself.

…

He sauntered across the floor, trailing towards the princess, her fiery red hair and olive skin resplendent under the sunlight. The baby cooed at him, unaware of his intentions.

He had come to fulfill a debt. A debt of vengeance.

Her parents had forgotten him. A god of the future. So now, he was going to rewrite someone else’s. Ruin their child’s life so he could forgive their debt.

The mother’s eyes grew wide. It was him. She and her husband immediately knelt to the ground, hoping for his forgiveness. He wasn't one to be underestimated. She knew now that the city shouldn't have listened to the babe’s father. They were all going to feel the ramifications of this.

“I am here to bless your child.” He spoke, clearly and slowly, comfortable just taking in the shock and fear on everyone’s face. The mother’s jaw dropped. He wasn't here to curse them?

The father was simply astonished. He had forsaken this god and instead of ruining them, he was here to bless their child?

“Ah. Alright. Thank you for the gift.” The parents said, chiming in at intervals.

He cocked an eyebrow, “I'm not sure you're going to want to thank me before you even know what the gift is.”

They nodded vigorously, hoping that if they agreed with everything he said, he would go away faster.

He approached the baby, brushing her vermillion hair away from her face, and whispered under his breath words that made the air electric. Golden dust swirled around the baby, and a tattoo formed under her eye.

“I’ve given her a gift. However, every one of you in this nasty city is cursed. With what, I won't tell you. I will take my leave.”

He left, his shoes clicking on the smooth marble floor.

Within minutes, they had all forgotten the incident, except for one thing, their child must never be believed. Her words would be considered insane from the start.

…

I stood up, about to say something.

But as I opened my mouth, I remembered. They had told me that if I said anything they didn't like, they would shut me up in the room. The room is not my happy place like people say theirs is. It's only a place they send me when I'm “misbehaving”. I’d much rather my happy place be in the temple–where the priestesses are. My prophecies mean nothing to me anymore. I would rather just spend my entire life living in the temple. I wouldn't ruin my vows to the temple for anything. I crack up, giggling high-pitched snorts. What in the Artemis am I saying?

I sit back down. Those in the court look at me, creeped out. But it's not like they aren't used to this. I've been insane for a while now.

“My prophecies mean nothing to me anymore”?

I'm full of crap. There’s nothing I love more than my prophecies. Or is it the temple? I'm not sure anymore. Maybe this is what insanity looks like.

Two differing perspectives on the same thing, trading opinions back and forth. Or maybe I’m just so insane that I’m trying to justify my insanity.

I stand up again and wander out of the court. Maybe being outside would help me figure out my twisted mind.

They yell behind me, but they can't do anything. They made me who I am.

…