Apparel: red dress, down to lower thigh, thin straps over shoulders, scratches on back
Hair: black, short (to shoulders)
Eyes: deep blue, tired
Torso: thin, small breasts
Arms: shaved, smooth, long nails
Checknav is a small village in Eastern Europe situated between the mountains. In this society, families were patriarical and males were held in much higher esteem than women. Abuse towards women was very common and they were treated very poorly all throughout life. Young girls often stayed at home with their mothers doing chores and other ‘wifely’ routines.
Narcissa was born to a wealthy family, withe the father and mother being the son of a successful merchant and the daughter of a farmer. The father often beat Narcissa and threw her in a closet for the smallest of reasons, even as being the daughter of a “lower class whore.” Her older brother joined in on this many times and would often molest her to the knowledge of her parents. Her mother wasn’t a bad woman, she was just used to the daily torture of what society planted in her husband and son.
Narcissa never fought back. She would often escape to her own dreams of being alone and away from her wretched household. She had never left the house and often dreamed of what was on the outside. She imagined the woods to be a place of freedom and beauty that did not discriminate against anyone.
One night after dinner, she was whipped by her father for making an unsatisfactory meal. She did not cry or scream, she only stood there silently with lifeless eyes as he brought the weapon aggressively back and forth. When he was done, he ordered her to clean up the blood on the ground caused by the wounds on her back. She grabbed a towel and proceeded to clean it up, staring at the dark red liquid becoming soaked within the towel. Her father sat in his chair with his pipe in his mouth and a sly grin on his face. On the table next to her was a knife, placed in a way that only she could see it. She knew that if he came over, she would stab him and end her and her mother’s suffering. After she was done cleaning the blood from the floor, he came over. He patted her head as a sign of a job well done and in the blink of an eye, the knife was lodged into his heart, killing him in the process. Narcissa stood there stunned at what she had done. Her brother came down after hearing all the ruckus and stood there staring at his father’s body and the bloody knife in his sister’s hand. He tore the knife from his sister’s hand and beat her violently in a fit of rage. He then left the house and came back hours later with a mob of people. They grabbed Narcissa, cut off her long beautiful hair, and burned her at the stake for what she had done.
Years later, her story became immortalized by the women of the town who speak of the girl who fought back. She became a symbol of hope that one day they too can end their suffering and live among the men as equals. Her story gets passed down from generation to generation, from mother to daughter, as the martyr of women.