A Gun To My Heart

42

I wake up to the sight of my mom sitting, turned towards me at my desk. Her dress hugs her torso, with gold stripes on it, making her look royal. Her triangle, gold earrings match her dress, dangling off her ear.

"Why are you here, so early?" I groan as I begin to get ready. Her expression is emotionless. It makes her look ten times more frightening than she already is. "He's sending healers over, right?"

I start to brush my teeth. "He said he'll talk about it with his father, that's all." She sneers. "That was multiple days ago. Make him send the healers over, so I can continue my task." I change my clothes.

"To kill someone voluntarily, when there are other opportunities isn't a task." Her hair sits perfectly on her shoulders, as her makeup is perfectly done. Bringing out her features. She taps her nails on my desk, glaring at me as I'm changing. Trying to make me even more afraid than I already am.

"We don't have other opportunities to take." I snicker at her words, which makes her raise from the white chair, walking over to my side. I look at the mirror in front of us, watching her put her hand on my shoulder.

"This one is the most fun task, anyway." My brows furrow, shocked by her words. She's a psycho. I already knew that. But it still shocks me. "Or maybe we should kill them both?" My body freezes. Every muscle tenses. My eyes are wide open, and she howls with laughter.

"You want to keep him alive?"

I don't respond, and I don't need to either. She knows my answer.

"It looks like you're the one that fell in love, " she hisses and looks at herself in the mirror. I grit my teeth feeling the anger boil in me. Feeling the resentment burn in my eyes. "You have crushed everything that's somewhat connected to love, in my head... In my life."

The last word comes out as a whisper. Her hands reach the flower on my desk, barely resting on it before it rips off with an abrupt motion. The glowing beams disappear with a spark, and the tiny light is gone.

"Love isn't real."

I feel the urge to scream in her face, or hit her as hard as I can. Scratch her. Let me twist knives into her skin. Let her experience my pain.

"It's because you never allowed yourself to feel it."

Her chin lifts and a muscle strains in her neck. Petals are lying dead all over my floor. She killed it like she kills everything else. Everything she looks at. Touches. Communicates with.

"Suddenly you know everything about love?"

Her whole existence is like a tremendous curse. Does she know it? Does she do it in purpose? Without a reason? Or did it hurt her so much, that she made others live in discomfort?

Has she already drowned in the misery I fear?
Nothing comes out of my mouth.
"You're a kid, Maeve. You know nothing about love. It's all a lie."

"I am not a kid."
Unhurriedly, I pick up the petals laying by her foot. Careful to not touch her, or linger too close. Her heel stamps on my palm, making me scream in pain. When she removes it, there is red blood running down my hand.
'Red symbolizes power.'

"Kids feel pain. Adults don't."

I sneer at her stupid words as I rinse my wound in the sink. "That's the dumbest shit I've ever heard in my whole life."

The invisible knives she surrounded me with when she arrived at my room, pushing me into a corner, caging me in - are now twisted. She hurt me, because she knew I was right. The knives are now mine, blades aiming at her. She had to find another way to make me vulnerable.

Her words couldn't. So, she harmed me physically. I put some paper over my hand, watching it soak in the red liquid. "You never learn, do you?"
I interrupt her.

"There is nothing to learn! You try to teach me unusable things, through fear. Do you think it's going to work? Hurting me every time I do something wrong? The only thing you create is fear and hatred. You make yourself hated by everyone. Maybe that's why you think love is an illusion? Because you are the one ruining your chance."

Nothing.
Her face stays emotionless. Her mask is still up. Her eyes are locked. Barricaded. Nothing seeps through. There is no small crack. Nothing floats through. Just like she never lets something in.

After that small silence, she hits my face again, making me collapse to the floor. Everything aches after each hit. Each one becomes more painful than the one before. I cling to the floor as her hand strikes me over and over again.

It scares me how such a beautiful-looking woman, can be so corrupt on the inside. She stands over me, looking at my broken face. Inspecting each bruise. Each scratch. Each wound. Smiling.

"Yes. I think it's going to work."
Her words sound empty, almost like a device said it. Fear ripples through my body as I'm watching. Her hair is still sitting perfectly on her shoulders, and her dress has no bloodstains on it.

"If you ruin this for me, I'll kill him too."
Her heels click against the floor, and her dress follows, gracefully flowing in the air.