Burden he is. And a burden he will stay. Change comes and goes, slapping us all in the face. All I know is that improvement doesn't always come easily, for it is always easier to worsen.
I learned that the hard way.
With my once kind and gentle mother. But she turned out to be a monster underneath her perfection. It is as though she had ripped off the cover to a book, revealing the broken and torn pages underneath, slowly being worn away after years of use.
"Let's grab a few buckets so we can have at least a day's worth of water," I suggest. Sorin nods, whipping his head this way and that to find the buckets.
I point towards the iron containers, one skinny handle curved at the top for us to carry.
When we walk it is complete silence, that is until I realize I've been humming the whole trek. I pull back and mouth under my breath, "Just make him feel horrible until he leaves."
And that's what I want to do. I don't want him here. He shouldn't be here. Not now. Never.
"You have a pretty voice," Sorin blurts out.
He heard it?
"And what are you trying to do? Make small conversation? Like that's what is going to work on me," I scoff. However, even I — a stubborn girl I am — find that it all came across too harsh.
He chuckles, "Even I have been surprised with how much a small conversation can change one's perspective of another. You can think of me a sinner, or a saint, really, I don't care. But maybe you could just give me a chance."
"And why are you trying so hard to get my attention?"
His face flushes up against the red light, slowly turning lighter as the sun comes up from behind the mountain tops.
"What?" I exclaim.
"I don't know, I just want more than...than having to sit alone in a kingdom."
"A kingdom full of servants?"
"And why do you care so much about servants?" He retorts.
"Because I will make you one of my own if you keep complaining about your pitiful life," I sneer.
Selfish. I am selfish, self-absorbed. But how could the prince of Dolmania understand and feel empathetic towards my troubles? And I don't think he can take a hint for granted, for he's just another one of those burdens. Yet he doesn't understand.
We all see this world in different ways, through different eyes.
To be honest, I just wish I could get to know the real Sorin, rather than dreading that he would betray me.
And I know I can't change how he reacts.
But it's impossible to control how I act.
One more screech and one might find me dead, for the ringing of the night left me unconscious, nearly on the edge of greeting Death. Sitting on the ledge of a cliff, watching furious, raging waters form a river below, my feet dangling as Death drags me towards the irate waters. Slowly dripping, my body slowly falling, an eternal fall. And I don't land. I can't land.
I just wait until my skin scrapes up against a cold rock, as water will soon beat me until it is the only thing I can possibly breathe.
If only rivers couldn't rage. If only the wind wouldn't whip. If only the storms needn't form. If only the trees would only grow.
If only fiction and reality could just merely blur.
***
I don't know how to socialize with him; he's the complete opposite of me, how could we relate on anything?
But he can't seem to handle a moment of silence, "What do you enjoy doing?"
I stutter, "I guess I enjoy practicing and running- swimming too, or dancing. Just feeling the breeze-" I stop myself before I can expose any other aspect related to me.
He says, "Feeling the breeze brushing on your skin? Feeling the way it prickles and dances?"
I nod.
"I thought you hated me," he chuckles.
"I do, I really do," I groan, speeding up.
He laughs, "Then why did you wait for me? Why have you...why am I here if you abhor me so much?"
"Because I have no other choice."
"You could've killed me already," he says.
"I didn't say I wouldn't kill you," I scoff. "What are you, a runaway prince boy and an idiot?"
"If you despise me so much, then just kill me," he threatens.
My fingers start to tremble, my legs shaking as his words thrust me to the ground. My head tingles and grows to pain, to a throbbing pain like my head is being ripped open.
"I can't just kill you," I mutter, my voice growing shaky.
"I saw you back there, you can."
"Just kill it, Amara!" Aida instructs. "I know you're not used to it, but if you want to thrive here, then you must face this fear!"
My trembling hand reaches for the string of the bow, fumbling as the tips just barely scratch the feather of the arrow.
"Just let go, aim, and let go."
But I can't. The squirrel frolics in the forest, its bushy tail following from behind. How could I kill an innocent creature?
But the arrow flies loose as my fingers snap back, the arrow soon making contact with the squirrel. It pierces right through its heart, blood spewing out of its gushing wound. And it drops dead, its bushy tail no longer up and moving.
And it takes everything within me not to collapse dead to the ground just as this...thing I had killed.
Maybe I am a monster.
"Just grab your dagger and kill me, show me that you hate me. If I'm such a burden-"
I snatch the short blade and let the tip graze his neck. It's not enough for blood to be released, but it's enough to keep him still in his tracks.
"How could this be any better? I will gain victory over you with this bet, and you die?"
He trembles, "I-"
"You didn't mean it?" I laugh. "The innocent die too."
"What-"
"But you aren't innocent, are you?" I whisper.
"I-"
I draw the dagger back, stuffing it right back into the bag.
"And what do you enjoy doing, prince boy?" I scoff.
"Way to change the subjects."
"I will gladly drown you in that river right now," I threaten. We both stare off into the distance as the sky starts to lighten. The river lies on the earth so delicately right ahead of us.
"Now just fill up the buckets, and we'll head straight back," I instruct. We make our way to the river, and soon he sits down on a rock next to it to take in the view.
"What if I don't want to rush this moment?" He asks.
"Then learn how to slow time, I'm not going to waste my time-" I am interrupted by a cold, violent splash against my back. I turn around and throw a nasty, cold glare at Sorin, my eyes burning into his.
"What?" He chuckles.
"You thought that was something?" I exclaim, thrusting my bucket into the water and tossing the water, so it slaps him right in the face. He slides off the rock and throws his bucket to the side, so I follow.
"I really hate you," I hiss under my teeth.
"I hate you too," he smirks. He takes his hand and slaps it against the water. It jumps towards me and covers me in droplets. Laughter explodes from the two of us as the pace of the rushing river starts to fasten, for it's picking up speed.
"I'll push you in there!" I tease, but his face flushes up.
He splashes me again as I take my bucket and dump the water until he stands there, drenched. He chuckles to himself and smiles, a bright smile indeed.
He jokes around me, placing his arms on my shoulders and acting as though he will push me in, slowly inching me towards the edge. But I whip around and thrust him into the water.
But once his gasps and shouts fill the forest up with dreadful sounds, I start to panic.
The river has never raged. Not like this. But it drags him away, his flailing body slapping the cold river waters in desperation.
"Sorin!" I cry.
But I can't understand what he's screaming. And one thought pulses through me, Whatever he is screaming could be his last words. And I can't let it be his last, nor his first to the river.
In and out. These can't be my last few breaths.
Out and in- I mean in and out.
Gosh, I can't even breathe. I can't- I can't do this-
But out of spite, I thrust myself into the waters, forcing myself to let the current carry me towards what could end up being a limp, dead body. The bottom of the river tickles my feet, causing a shudder to run through me as the soft textures poke at my skin.
I take a deep breath and hold it as my face dives underwater, my hands and arms kicking with hope- anything, just please. Anticipation courses through my veins, my hair whipping and blocking my face. With violent waters crashing from rock to rock, it is merely difficult to breathe, let alone to keep another one breathing.
But, burden or not, I have to save him.
Right?
I have to cause some good within this world, and...it was my fault. God-
Guilt's pangs stab me until my face bleeds raw.
I can't have this feeling haunt me. Not with Aida already dragged dead. I will not allow myself through more pain.
The rocks can tear and cut through my skin, forming wounds with unbearable pain. But it can end. The pain can merely end.
Guilt is a never ending feeling of regret, haunting one for eternity. It will stick with them before and after Death comes to snatch them away.
And for the sake of this journey, of this hero I want to become, I must keep from causing myself any more pain.
But his head just barely bobs up above the water, sucking in air chunks at a time, gasping in droplets of water as his lungs plead.
I bring my head up, scavenging along the water and gulping the air, taking in as much before my lungs explode. I dive back under the water, picking up speed as my legs vigorously propel myself forward.
I cannot instruct myself to breathe. Not right now. But just now it hits me how much I have depended on forcing myself to...to well, breathe.
I could distract my mind, bringing it off the horrors that flood me from day to day. But right now, in these desperate times, though my heart beats faster than the pace of my legs pounding against the ground when sprinting, I must remember who I am and let it go.
I have to let it go.
But I can't.
The pain and hunger only grows worse; the fear claws at my insides now.
Aida could muster nor hold any magic, yet it was as though she could control the entire forest with a tap. Her voice was soothing, yet it silenced the woods itself, trapping the noise within.
Because she was powerful.
With or without magic.
So with or without her, I must be powerful, I have to be powerful. For her.
"Pristine!" I scream, my voice resounding off of the trees, bouncing off of the clouds that float above. The sun starts to sear on my skin as it slowly rises, the moon staying in place, just barely setting.
I close my eyes, forcing air into my lungs, feeding the hunger for life. One more second. One more- just please.
But all that life thrusts as me is another wave, one that is more violent than the last. With fear snapping my bones in place, stilling the chills that run up and down my spine, I can just barely breathe.
A wave - smaller yet mighty as it is - slaps itself against a nearby rock, smacking me on the cheek. It might as well knock me unconscious, for the world around me begins to spin. Colors and dots surround my vision, tunneling me in, trapping me in Death's claws.
It's getting closer.
I can feel the raspy breaths of Death trickling on my neck, the way that it's cold and icy, how it could freeze one in an instant.
No- no! I swing my arm back, refusing to be snatched away now. Not now. So much lies ahead of me, so why take me now? I bare my teeth and suck in a deep breath, keeping the fresh water from slipping down my throat. I dive deeper this time, having taken a deeper breath before. The current carries me along, for I am not fighting against another. I slowly start bobbing up, making progress towards the boy.
Towards the prince boy.
And if he's found dead, next to me? Well, I'm already dead. In their eyes at least.
In their dark, horror-filled eyes. Hatred and abhor burning in their souls, cooking up a brew more poisonous than a stew Death could ever comprehend.
They want to kill me.
They want to torture me until my soul is dead, but my body lives.
I would rather be fully dead itself. Lying in a field of roses, Pristine's soft voice being the last to hear. And maybe the whisper of the wind could appear.
A death like that is peaceful.
But I could never achieve that.
I grip onto a nearby rock, keeping my latest food from spilling out as utter vomit. It takes everything to myself decently...alive. Nausea fights its way into my stomach, into my head. And my brain pounds, thuds - like it's being knocked up against the rock I rest on currently.
I choke up a few last sips of the water, a touch of slight salt.
Or is that blood?
My blood?
It takes me a mere second to realize that I've been chewing mercilessly on my cheek, and my lips. No wonder the copper taste has been present for so long, seeping down my throat.
But I have to pick it back up.
I have to move on.
So I force myself back into the water, my deep and desperate breaths tearing at my lungs as I wheeze for air.
Everything within me burns. Whether it's pain or anticipation.
But I must break through this strong wall of fear.
It is now or never, right?
So I kick my legs, throwing my arms out as I continue stroking my way down the river. I bob my head up and down, taking tinier breaths this time, allowing myself to take breaths without the pain.
In and out.
Up and down.
A rhythmic pattern that I allow myself to process.
And once I look up, I see it- I see a figure, desperately clawing as the mud slips down from the ground above.
"Sorin!" I scream.
I grip onto his arm, refusing to let it slip out of my reach. My face flushes a deep red; why am I saving him? And why am I acting so...
Just pay attention!
I keep one hand firm around his arm and another one planted on his shoulder, allowing him to cough up the remainder of the water, and who knows what else-
I turn away and slowly start guiding him up the river to find a more stable area to climb; this mud won't do us any good.
He keeps nodding, randomly trembling and shaking. But I keep leading him towards the stable grass that grows from the river. I lift him up the slightest bit, allowing his hands to take hold of the grass itself. He keeps a firm grip as tension runs through his entire body. I climb up soon after him, getting to a higher level and dragging him up the steep slope.
And we've made it. I drag him to a tree, allowing him to sit against it as his head turns from side to side.
"Sorin, wake up," I demand. But he doesn't respond. He just sits there, his body growing limp at the second.
"Sorin! What the- what is- wake up!" I plead this time, slapping him straight in the face. But he shows no reaction. No smile. No wince. No laughter. No giggle. Just a straight, blank face.
I place both hands on his shoulders, ready to slap consciousness back to him.
"Wake up!"
He bobs his head to the other side, his eyes slowly adjusting.
And he coughs up the remainder, quickly spilling out a few words as well as a few droplets of water.
"What- what happened?"
I cry, "I'm an idiot! Gosh!" I scream in frustration, tugging at my hair. "I thought you were dead! I thought you were actually dead! And it's all my fault. I'm so sorry- I shouldn't-"
My voice trails off, but he picks back up with soft, gentle words, "It's not your fault. I should've learned to swim-"
"Are you dumb?"
"What do you mean?"
"Learning to swim-"
"Is something I should've done," he finishes.
I exclaim, "No! No, I need to get some common sense- I-" I stand up, furious with myself. "It's all my fault, and don't blame yourself. No matter how much of a burden and idiot you are...I've just attacked you enough. Let me take the blame just this once."
"Amara-"
I cut him off, "I'm not going to feel more guilt when I already have enough weight on my shoulders."
"Amara-"
I refuse to listen to his excuses. "It's my fault, alright? Get it through your head, please!"
"Amara, listen to me."
I shake my head, "No."
"Then I will force you to," he demands, his voice switching from soft to stern.
"I'm not-"
He interrupts me this time, "Amara, just listen to me. It's not your fault, neither should it be mine. It's truly a mishap, a mistake, really."
Not once have I heard the boy raise his voice out of spite and rage.
And he proceeds to hold that accomplishment.
"Don't take the blame, let's just bring some water back to camp while we still can." I force the remaining lump of guilt down my throat, forcing my breaths into a steady position.
He stands up, placing his hand on my shoulder, "Hey, Amara, it's fine. I'm fine. It will all be fine."
I don't even know him. Yet he treats me like we've known each other for years.
And I don't like it. I hate it. I just...I vehemently abhor how he has opened me up, forcing my stone wall down, crumbling my mind like that.
So I glare at him with baring teeth, "Don't touch me. Ever."
"I-"
"You might as well leave. Why do you want to be here, anyways?" I cry. "Why are you here when I might as well kill you! I don't want you here! And why would I want you here?" He's a burden that I can't seem to dispose of. So he might as well leave — and I'm hoping that it's his choice rather than mine. I don't want him here. And I cannot even comprehend the hate that would conjure through my mind if he would want to stay here.
"And what do you want?" He whispers, his voice still soft, yet full of rage. "Why haven't you killed me?"
"I want you to leave," I hiss. "And I don't want to see you return, ever." Because if he's here then I'm vulnerable. He's vulnerable. They'll know where we are. And they can't hurt pristine. If they ever even touch her-
"And stay away from Pristine too. If I ever see you or anybody of your kind near her or this forest? Hah, I'll kill you and them all."
I can feel the whisper of his words, yet his lips just merely twitch. Tick, tick- this is when it explodes. This is how I die. By the girl with the eyes of-
I close my eyes, forcing my thoughts to only think of my own words. My words. Nothing else. He cannot invade my mind. Not now.
If only she could realize how much I want her to kill me. How much I want my blood to be shed with the dagger she owns.
"What do you mean?" I scream, my voice bouncing off of the trees, birds scattering into the sky that begins to brighten. "Why-"
"Amara-"
"Leave me alone!" I shout. "Just leave me alone!"
"Do you want me-"
"No! I don't-" My words are interrupted by a scream.
A scream that could never be my own.
A blood-curdling shriek that fills my body with horror and rage. My hairs stick straight up as a chill slithers down my very spine, more voices creeping inside my head like the venom of snakes.
And I can just see her own eyes.
Dark yet beautiful.
With a dark and horrifying red patch dripping down her white skin.
Beautiful.
And dead.
