Queen of Persia ✔️

iiv. night twenty-one

His words drove around in her mind. Parisa had never felt so alone in her life. Only hours ago, she had confronted Afshin about his affair. Only hours ago, Arman had found out about the truth. Only hours ago, she lost her world. She too was now a lost cause. It was so easy to be drawn into darkness. Her world was slowly turning darker by the second. The light at the end of the tunnel was no longer large enough to see.

Fading.

Fading.

And fading.

It was then that she realised how numb the darkness was. It was cold and unwanted. Exactly like her now. She wanted to run back to him, but she was too numb. Her face was bland, and she was no longer crying. She didn't have the energy to cry. The party had finished right after the incident and Parisa was glad that it had. Suddenly, Parisa heard the doors of her room. Maybe it was Azin. Or maybe it was Arman. Maybe he was finally here. With her energy shooting back at her, she stood up walking towards the door.

The figure that stood there wasn't who she expected. But rather someone unexpected. As he walked into the light casted from the candles, she finally saw his face. Vasir Jalaledin stood there in front of her with his sword held high. To his surprise she wasn't scared. She didn't scream or move.

"Thrown away just like the garbage you are," he told her with pity. A pity mixed with laughter. She continued to look at him blandly, until he gave her an evil grin. His face scared her. Every part of him scared her, but she supressed her fright.

"Maybe," she said ever so lightly. She didn't care, or perhaps she didn't care anymore. Maybe Arman had finally sent someone to kill her. Or maybe he was going to do it himself. Either way it was the end of the road and Parisa felt calm as ever. Maybe this was the only way she could see her brother once more.

"It's your end, and your little husband has no idea," he remarked and for the first time Parisa felt a shock through her. Arman wasn't aware of this. He wasn't the one who had sent Jalal to kill her. But rather Jalal was the one who had made the order. He moved closer to her with a wicked smile. He gently dragged his finger on her bare arms. Her arms tingled. A sensation she hated.

"Don't touch me," she snarled. She moved back and away from him. Only for him to move closer by the second. It was at this moment that she finally felt fear. She was petrified by his stare. "I said stay away," she spat. He didn't move. She had the urge to scream but she didn't. She couldn't. Her throat was dry, and her moves were supressed by anxiety.

He quickly placed a mouth band over her lips and then he grabbed a hold of her arm, dragging her down the hallways. She resisted, but it wasn't enough. She tried, until she asked herself what she was fighting for. Who was she resisting for? What else was there for her to live for?

Nothing.

She gave into it, allowing him to drag her through the castle. She begged Arman in her mind, she begged him to save her. But he didn't come, and she stopped. She stopped thinking about him. She stopped thinking about herself. They finally arrived at a dark room. A room so dark Parisa couldn't even see the darkness of her own mind. He threw her onto the ground as she growled in pain.

"You are a leverage my dear," he informed her, "a leverage to get what I want from Arman," he added. She laughed. A laugh so disappointing. She laughed all her pain and sorrows out.

"He isn't going to save me Jalal. He doesn't care. Or at least he doesn't care anymore," she told him still laughing. But deep in her laugh he could hear her grief. He rolled his eyes in annoyance, turning his back towards her.

"Oh, he will, trust me," he continued. But the catch was that she didn't trust him. She barely trusted herself. She nodded at his stupid idea. The only thing she knew was that he was messing with the wrong girl. "But for now, let's add some scars onto that body of yours. Maybe he will give me more if he sees you hurt," he explained. She laughed at him. She could tell he was annoyed at her stubbornness.

"Fire at will," she confronted him. She didn't care whatsoever. Whether death was painful or not, it was freedom. She had died too many times to feel it. She just wanted nothing. She wanted silence. She wanted cold darkness. He swung his dagger out, carving a small heart on her forearm. She supressed every tear in. Weakness ruins you. Weakness is a sin, and she was no sinner. She sat there in silence, letting out small squeals of pain at times. She sat there until her entire body was exposed by scars and blood. Her arms and legs were bleeding, and yet Arman was nowhere to be found. For moments, she had hope for his return but now her string of hope was burnt.

"He really doesn't care about you, does he?" he asked sarcastically after an hour. She gave him an 'I told you,' look before closing her eyes in tears. "I might as well kill you then. You are no use. Your husband is probably having fun with Zaida. Although I can't blame him," he laughed at her. A laugh so humiliating, Parisa felt the hair on her arm rise. Was Arman really having fun with Zaida? Would he do that to her? But that wasn't a question to ask because she was no better. Although she never cheated, she wasn't any better. She was just as easy to blame.

"Do it," she told him. Her request sounded like a wish. And she wished for this nightmare to be over. And it finally was. He shoved the dagger right into her stomach. She felt every ounce of pain just like she wanted. She felt all those years of emotions, crash down on her. Until she didn't have to bare it anymore. Until it was her time to leave. Her eyes twitched at his, before he pulled the dagger right out. She felt her body slouch in pain. Her eyes slowly faded away, as they began to close. Jalal's figure quickly ran away as he heard footsteps near the door.

You are too late, she wanted to say to the footsteps near the door. Way too late. And just like that, her eyes shut completely. She was gone.