World of Hiroku

5. snow angels

How typically. Willow woke up, fluttering her eyes open slowly with another headache. Blinking with heavy lids, she found it hard to adjust to the glaring hues of yellow and orange.

The yellow sunlight was low on the horizon and shined through the sheer curtains that blew softly in the cold wind. It's late evening, soon it would be dark but for now, there is still light giving Willow the ability to see the gathered clouds in the sky for tonight's snowfall.

Willow is in a new room of which she doesn't recognize. It has the same themes of green and gold as the rest of the castle; however, this room has more color and was decorated with more objects than of the common gold itself.

A wall was lined with a bookshelf full of small sculptures and thickly bound books in every color and size. The writing unreadable to Willow, their purpose just as confusing to her. The swirled letters curved and danced in front of her eyes. They yearned to be read by the emeralds of Willow's face. How she wished she could touch its delicate cream colored pages and chant the words to grant her freedom. They more she became enchanted by its promises of knowledge and safety, the more they whispered her name. Naila. Naila. Naila.

"I apologize for what happened. I shouldn't have locked you all in the same area," he paused to take a breath and brought Willow out of her trance, "Of course there would be conflict among them all." 

She tried to bring sense to the growing surroundings. Willow looked up at his grey far off eyes. He is not looming over her but it felt like it as he stared every inch deeper into her soul. He sat across the room, fully clothed, hands on his knees. He turned more to align himself with Willow who is curled up on a small sofa decorated in jade green and oh, how he had a fancy for gold.

Willow glanced around the room to see more emerald furniture embellished and curled into the same smooth loops seen everywhere throughout the castle. On the wall there held a painting framed in sharp medal roses and falling petals. The painting is a portrait of a man, strong wide shoulders, sharp chin, grey eyes, and chestnut hair in soft curls on his head. He looked beautiful there and for a second, Willow liked that. At momentary ease, she enjoyed that he could be seen as beatific and understood why some didn't mind being here for a brief second. She wondered what happened to the once-beloved man. A fallen king who lost his way. How much more can one go mad? Willow thinks, careful never to let her guard down.

He sighed and rubbed his hands over his face and through his hair which was scruffier than what was presented in the painting. The stubble on his face turned silver with the fading sun. "I think there needs to be reconciliation. Don't you?" He urged Willow with his eyes to respond.

"Beautiful, you are such- beauty with those green eyes... please speak, sing... scream the way you did when I first met you, anything," he begged and knelt onto the floor. His placed his hands in prayer and brought them to his lips.

How pathetic. Willow shot up from her sitting position and stepped to the door unsuccessful in trying opening it and make her quick escape. Willow shook, his strides lead to her back and his breath warm against her neck brought shivers. He placed his hand on the door and motioned her to take a seat again.

"This is my castle. This is my kingdom. This is my world. You see?" His tone suddenly shifted again making Willow's heart drop in fear. He slid his arm around her waist. Willow held her breath and tried her best to hide her squeamishness in worry of how he'll react.

"I'm sorry about hurting you. I shouldn't have done that but I was angry. I had Celeste heal your burns."

It's like talking to a wall. He knew this. He knew that Willow will not talk to him. He understood this but it all still brought him rage and confusion.

"How can I tell you why I took you and all these other beautiful things if you don't speak?" Eshan tried to bait her.

Willow turned to look at him and she can see he's wild in thought as his eyes danced around from her every body part. Then he took her wrist. His hand burned with the same rage Olga had, it only felt like seconds ago she watched her bleed out and die. Willow wondered if she would be slashed or burned by the man who held her captive. He seemed like the type of person to be inspired by such mayhem. It would be a fitting death for Willow, to die like the person she displeased and cursed.

To Willow's astonishment he quickly yanked her to the open window instead. The outside glass was covered with frost while the edges on the inside were covered in steam from the warm room, making both sides of the glass piane slick to the touch. He balanced himself on the windowsill and took Willow by both hands and pushed her out the window. She dangled down far from the icy bottom of the earth and struggled to try to and grip onto the opening from which she came.

"Is this what you wish for every night as you continue to weep Willow? Do you wish death upon yourself!?" He shouted at her. She barely hung on by her tiptoes and struggled to keep up the charade of being unbothered by the circumstances at hand.

"Answer me!" He screamed more angrily than last time, watching her feet fall off the sill. She dangled from the window and swung slowly in the bone chilling breeze. Willow fumbled desperately to stay attached to the icy wall by her foot, hoping that somehow they will stop sliding off. She shrieked. She cannot give him what he wants but with death taking hostage of her mind she could think of no other solution.

He gripped onto her hands and held her up. He is her only lifeline, he's made that clear and if he gets angry enough he'll drop her. Her hair blew all around, blocking her eyes when she looks ahead at his face- hot with excitement. She looked down at the ground growing with more snow. It's gotten colder in the last moments of Willow's life and the sun is almost gone. He let go of one of her arms.

With the free arm she gripped his arm that held her by her wrist squeezing with more pressure. He can hold her weight easily and enjoyed the game he played. She felt him loosen his grip around her wrist giving the illusion that he'll drop her. He let go of it completely, but Willow still held on by her other arm, and now over locked them together. She glanced back up at him with no tears left in her green eyes. They now glittered with anger of her own.

"Yes," she whispered, closing her eyes and letting go. She dropped down to the icy floor as his screams faded away above her. The screaming drifted to the soft murmur of bleakness.

He did not want this.