Page 1: Sure let's do it again
One thing I know looking at the man laying in the velvet pool of his own blood is that he’s handsome even in death. It used to bring me so much regret knowing that i’m the one that drew the light out of those gray eyes that I thought held my own reflection like he did mines.
Whatever illusion he used before to make me go to war against our own kingdom for him was like smoke in the wind gone but with the suffocating scent lingering that it was there. Our love was never genuine from the start, there was nothing else besides his looks. But that wouldn’t have been much to compel me to throw everything away for him. To marry him.
All his superficial words and smooth talking, his cold attitude treating me like an object that should be placed on a shelf until useful again. I stood there staring and pondered; why was it red? I’d somewhat convinced myself that he wasn’t human anymore that this time he’d probably bleed black. Or was it the discoloration of the hardwood floors.
But no, he was just a man, just as susceptible to a crystal dagger to the heart like any other. It also still surprises me that everytime we come to this moment he always hugged me, when he refused my touch any other time. He treated it like a plague, deadly, corrosive. He was mumbling something against my neck of what I assumed were sweet nothings. The silence of our own breaths a beat two long for my liking. He stared into my eyes as if he’d already known what I had done before I’d even done it with a look I couldn’t comprehend ignoring the dagger in his chest before he dropped to the floor.
I tried not to get sucked in again, I promised myself if it didn’t work this time I’d give up. My heart started throbbing as the doors clatter behind me with footsteps cutting through the silence. My body being pulled into another embrace with black curls falling into my eyes. A shaking breath of relief.
I still don’t understand why she was more worried than I ever was and even more so relieved to find me alive after everything I’ve done. A warm trickle of liquid starts to pool in the centre of my blouse.
“It’s over now, you’re okay. We’re going to be okay now.”
She said pulling away with a smile of relief, but as she stared into my dull eyes she slowly looked down. Her eyes widening to saucers. I didn’t need to be told that a crimson stain formed on the front of my blouse. The world slowly began to tilt under the moonlight shining through the sheer curtain. Those cloudy gray eyes staring back at me, I hope this is the last time I ever see them. That they no longer trap me.
“DELANEY!” She cried as she cradled me in her arms. Her tears were like acid on my skin. A flurry of footsteps rushed in, to the sound, chaotic voices and blurred figures slowly became agonizingly distant.
The darkness and silence was comforting for a while, almost like I was floating. Such a rare peaceful moment, and my mind growing fuzzy. But I knew this only meant this only meant the start again. A surge of warmth coursed through me burning me like a furnace. A wave of dizziness swirling around, voices around me muffled and chaotic and a hand holding mines with a tight squeeze and a prayer.
“Please, let her live. Let her overcome this. We can’t lose her. It doesn’t matter the cost. Please.”
Whoever made that vow should’ve let me go, I’ve suffered more because of a heartfelt wish than if I’d died from my illness. I don’t hate them, they meant well, if only they knew how much it truly cost. I slowly opened my eyes feeling gummy, I stared at the pale green ceiling like it had personally offended me for existing. My throat dry as I laid in the silence of it all. The light stung my eyes.
So this is it, purgatory, maybe they do say your memories flash before your eyes in death. But for how long? I’m just a dead soul waiting for death anyways. I heard a slight creak coming from the right, a familiar tug bringing me to sit upright sluggishly.
I glanced around the familiar room, the patterned wallpaper that I had seen a thousand times. I watched as Giselle walked across the threshold of the padded rug to my bedside holding a tray. She placed it in my lap.
“Good morning Miss Delaney, how are you feeling this morning?”
I ruffled my hair trying to remember the last good morning I actually had. Giselle places the tray on my lap; She reaches her right hand to touch my forehead and her left on her own.
“It seems your fever has finally broken.” Giselle says, I looked up at her bright shining minty eyes of relief. And her full head of brown hair tucked up, having not fallen out from stress yet. But a look of tiredness was still evident in the dryness of her face and darkened circles. Even if the war hasn’t reached us yet, but, attending to my pneumonia surely did the trick to wear her down.
I wasn’t expected to live since my case was so severe to the point I also believed it. My body cooked itself alive from the inside and the constant dry heaving coughs.It had me out of commission for a month. I stared at the tray before me, Sfogliatella stuffed with eggs, hot chocolate, toast with a honey and butter spread.
I used to love these, but the sight makes my stomach curl, the hot surge of bile welled up in the back of my throat. Even with a stomach empty from being on a liquid diet for so long, food has become unappealing. I can still taste metal in the back of my throat. At the corner of the tray was a familiar yellow envelope.
What’s this?
“It’s a letter from that suitor of yours, Baron Rochester.” Giselle said with a bit of teasing in her voice, I tossed the envelope aside so fast one would’ve thought it was on fire or contained acid. It’s offensive to think someone would ever willingly want such a thing as a suitor.
Giselle boasts that he’d visited everyday since I was unwell worrying about my well being. Her head filled with nothing but a romantic fairytale fluff. When in actuality he just wanted to screw a maid or two. The bite of eggs tasted like rubber and slimy,and each crunch of toast was like swallowing sandpaper even with spread.
This toast could use more butter…and everything else.
“Yes, yes more is good, more is better. Glad to see that you’re finally catching on.”
Does this chocolate have sink water in it?
“Why would you ever think such a thing? Nobody would ever shame you for wanting to marry such a fine young man pursuing you.”
I stared at Giselle who was lost in daydreaming planning a wedding that is never going to happen. If only she knew the creature she praises so highly she’ll one day despise with scorn. At the thought of marrying that social climbing creature, I lost my appetite.
In truth I never actually cared about getting married, it was only to make her and mother shut up about me becoming a spinster. Given the circumstance that doesn’t sound quite bad.
“Okay, I won’t tease you any further. If you’re finished eating, let’s get you washed up for the capital.”
As if I could eat anymore. Giselle held my hand helping me out of bed. Even though I could walk perfectly to the bathroom on my own. I touched my toes into the warmth of the water, refreshing after being towel down for a month. Giselle always insists on using Valobra soaps on my skin.
She says it’s good for moisturizing, but I beg to differ. It’s more so because of my hands, her nose scrunches as she scrubs them agonizingly slow over the callouses and rough patches.
“Look at your hands, they’re more worn than my own. Aren’t you tired?” She paused, looked at me with those expectant eyes again. “I know what you’re going to say.”
No you don’t.
“But listen to my advice, you’re going to get married and start a family soon.”
I’d rather not
“And you’ll have to choose your priorities. You won’t always be the crown princess’s royal guard.”
My priority was no longer being a part of this conversation.
Not like that was a possibility to begin with. Giselle had finally given up trying to coax. I’m not the Delaney scared of not fitting into society. That was a version of me that shouldn’t have existed. Giselle helped me towel off and fit into a yellow lampshade dress she’d been wanting me to wear for awhile. She said it compliments my copper brown hair and hazel eyes which if i’m being honest are more close to brown but I digress. It’s all an excuse to get me to wear a sundress.
I won’t lie, when I looked at myself in the mirror it looked nice paired with the simple braid over my shoulder. In my opinion it could use a little less frills at the front. But beggars can’t be choosers, it might offer some extra padding for later anyways.
From the moment Giselle walked in with a tray in her hand I knew I had been running late on time. And I was 27 steps later, the carriage waited outside with Katherine already seated and waiting. Seeing her used to be a reminder of everything that I’m not. She was the apple of mother’s eye of course. The daughter she had lots to boast about with the other ladies of society. And a carbon copy of father’s auburn hair and brown eyes with mother’s calm, poised and magnetic appearance.
But the moment the conversation turned to me, she didn’t know what to say. Always looking a bit embarrassed and switching the topic. I got both of my parents’ looks, mother’s green eyes oversaturated with dads brown ones and dad’s auburn locks over saturated with mother’s brown locks. An inheritance of her snarky wit and dad’s knack for swordsmanship and knowing my way around a gun.
Declan had absorbed most of mother’s genes when she was pregnant with us both, and dad’s charisma and swordsmanship as well. We may have the same face but he could’ve given me a chance to inherit a bit more of mother’s genes. Maybe then she wouldn’t be so hard on me if I looked a little more like her.
When I got in the carriage I took a peek at the book Katherine was ready, and found the page it was on was a bit steamy. It surprised me how she’s able to read such content with a straight face. It scares me a little. Such good blackmail yet no way to use it. What a shame. Although I do wonder a little what would happen if I left it somewhere conspicuous for mother to pick up. I wonder what would happen.
