CHRYSALIS EFFECT

2 》 Gwen

We sit in the dinning hall, and I am faced with a damn feast on the mighty, thick wood table. Gemma sits beside me, at the head of the table. I am to her right, but I honestly don't notice or care much about courtly reasoning. No, I don't even eat at first.

Gemma is halfway through her stew when she realizes I'm not eating. My plate remains empty.

"Gwen? Are you okay?" she asks me softly.

I don't speak, as I've not spoken since.... gods, I can't remember when. She begins to slowly fill my plate with food and then she steps back, smiling at me. She sits down once more, and urges me to eat.

I haven't had this much food since .... that night. That night. When everything changed. When I changed.

I pick up some food and begin to eat. But then, Gemma shakes her head. She picks up a small, silver thing with three pokey parts on the tip. "This is a fork, Gwen. Remember?"

"How ... how long?" I ask.

"What?"

"How long was I in there?"

She sighs. "We were seven when that happened. And now, we are both seventeen. So, how are you, Gwen?"

Images dance in my brain. I see Father that night. I see his rage in his eyes as he told me he was king. That I had to listen to him, that I wasn't his daughter. I was a tool.

"Father did this to me," I whisper, tears spilling down my face. "And I.... I - I don't know why! I didn't mean to do that, I don't want my special powers!"

She turns to face me. "But you have them, Gwen. I'm sorry that this happened, but it -"

"Sorry doesn't change it! It doesn't erase what he did!" I cry.

"I know, sister. Oh, how I know. I'm s- I know that this is hard. I know that you have gone through hell, but now you are safe. Now, you can be whoever you want to be."

My hands grip the fork thing she told me about, and I look at it. I haven't eaten with a fork in so long. How do I do it? The guards had never given me things like this. No, I had to eat with my hands. Always, never eating with forks.

I turn away from her, my very long, auburn hair falling like a curtain between us. My hair pools on the table, and I look down at it, angry at the length of it.

I look over to the knife beside Gemma's plate, and I pick it up. Before she can say anything, I slash at my hair, cutting it. Well, sawing at it, really. As it isn't as easy as I'd thought to cut your hair with a knife.

"Gwen, Gwen! Stop!" Gemma exclaims.

She takes the knife from me, and I look at her, feeling a strange, off feeling swirling in my body once more. It's foreign. Something I've not felt in years. It is a pulsing, like my heartbeat when I'm running, but also a strange mix of hot and cold. It's also a rush.

I feel something swirling around me, and then, I see the dagger, the crystal blade appearing in my hand. The silver hilt of the dagger is curved, just like the blade itself. I don't give her a second to take the blade, instead, I cut the rest of my hair. Once it seems short enough so that the tips graze my shoulders instead of my butt, I lift my gaze to her.

Gemma frowns, but sighs after a moment.

"I know you've been through a lot, Gwen. But you aren't seven anymore, you're a late teen, and you've gotta get a grip on yourself."

Then, she stands up, and I just see my father, staring down at me in fury. His anger roiling off him in waves, and he just stares at me like I'm nothing but a weapon.

When he saw me make my daggers, he didn't think of me as his daughter anymore. No, I stopped being his child when I did that. So now, I have to prove I'm not a child. I am not a weapon, either.

"Gwen?" Gemma asks.

I stand up, only to fall once more onto the floor. She hurries to my side, but I don't want her help. I glare up at her, and shake my head. "No! I don't want your help!"

"Sis, you need help. You can't walk. You .... you need healing. Your voice is distorted, your body is breaking down. I cannot let you die. I can't lose you. Not again."

"Too bad, Gemma! You shouldn't have let him box me up for ten freaking years!"

"I didn't let him do anything, Gwen! I didn't know he did that. I almost died that night. That's one of the reasons our mother is dead. Please, Gwen. I can't lose you again."

I start to crawl. "You already have. You're the worst sister I've ever had! The worst! The worst! The absolute worst!"

When she kneels before me, she grabs my chin and forces me to look at her. "You are not what he wanted you to be. No, not at all."

I glare at her. "Let me go!"

"No, I won't. I won't, sister. Because you need me. And I need you. But we have a lot to work on before anything can be done with the kingdom, let alone anything else."

She turns away from me, releasing me. "Healers! I need healers and guards in here!"

I shake my head. "They can't fix me."

"Maybe not. But they can heal your body, Gwen." She stands up as the healers in their white and gold uniforms come in, followed by guards in their black and white ones. I am surrounded by them, and they whisk me off to their healing lab.