SEQUEL OF GYMNOPÉDIE
The war is inevitable. Wizards, witches, pick a side, pick your ruins. Because in the eye of war, brothers shared no blood though came from the same marrow, families strayed and abandoned, heart ostracized from mind, and you mi...
It was just a collumn-sized of her face captured by the prophet years ago, yet, the damage was enough for an iron being in her head to scream. It flourished from ashes when her mind palace was scorched by hellfire. But the ashes from where it resurrected was ashes of betrayal, hatred, violated rights and dreams. It's an ugly thing. Gemma felt them, she knew that her mind had become a resort for an ungodly being. A fluid monster, in which dark, glowering eyes, had slithered behind hers every now and then. Her alter-ego. She couldn't run from it, because it was a part of her. But she caged it in metal bars, so it couldn't claw at her heart and harmed her. But it whispered, in low and violating voice that rattled steel and bulletproof windows, "Burn! Burn it! Burn it!"
On her hand, the daily prophet of April 11th 1978 stretched between her hands. The thin materal displayed the headline. A cheery Irishgirl was in the photograph. She was fresh as summer daisy, her smile vague but true, clinging to Alphard's arm like a lovely little brat. Imagery of a perfect Merlin's heir for the world but mockery to her state of mind.
It itched, her heart itched. And a hole the size of her photograph must have been manifested in the said beating organ, how could it not? When her fingers trailed on her reflection less than fifteen minutes ago, she couldn't find the joyful girl in the picture. No matter how hard she tried to look, from whichever angle or distance: happiness had been drained out of her psyche.
Nevertheless, Gemma stilled in front of the mirror. Took her time to coax and examine herself. It felt so long since she did that, standing in front of a mirror and saw herself. Not a replica of her mother. Because her mother was divine, while her reflection was a pure devilment. A turbin of chaos solidified into a mortal. Evident from the display of crimson and sapphire-hued from brutality on her skin, the chaos was within her.
She tried to twirl around like she would try on a gown but winced as soon as she stir. She trembled as she removed the thorns from her skin. She watched the drain turned red and her feet curled to floor, it was glad to touch the ground after she had been flying so high and so long before she crashed the ground from exhaustment.
She couldn't pinpoint which boy gave her this scar or that bruise, all she knew was the pain they gave to her. Her cousin, her friend, and the boy she fell in love with. But bruises would vanish in days, scars would fade, and ache would heal. Yet, Gemma felt like she was missing a limb. Perhaps, the damage wasn't what it looked like on the outside. Evan had amputated her trust when he broke their childhood promise. Avery punctured her bravery when the boy drowned her down the creek.
