The Ruler's Rift

Two-Faced

Rest was at Celeste's fingertips - she donned her black nightgown and pulled back the covers to join the sleeping Lucy. Her eyes lay heavy in their sockets. She smiled. She'd need her rest, she had a big day tomorrow. Lucy's mother in awe of her work - why, it'd bring the malamute to spring up and down.

Then, like a slap to the face, uncertainties settled into Celeste's mind, digging into the squiggles of her brain like lice. Her back's skin peeled open, slowly, and she shivered. She dropped the blanket and quietly backed up to the bathroom. Typically smooth motions were crippled by fear, turned jagged and mechanical. Celeste hid in the bathroom to confront herself, closing the door behind her and leaning over the counter. "Calm down..." She whispered to herself, staring into the mirror.

Did she really deserve sleep after what she'd done?

Anything she did was well-deserved, and she swung her head as if to dismount the irrational thoughts. Tomorrow, she would talk Lucy up to her mom. She deserved sleep to prepare for that.

But she wasn't really doing it to make Lucy happy.

Celeste grit her teeth and began to pace. What was she thinking? Why else would she do it? Celeste herself would gain nothing from such an act.

Of course she would - she'd feel good about herself.

Pacing ceased. After all, does anyone do anything for unselfish reasons, truly?

Celeste pondered that for a moment, her stomach sinking. It was to help Lucy, right? Of course it was.

But it would feel good to help her. Celeste couldn't argue with that. And if that were true, then she was doing it for her own benefit, not Lucy's. People do good things to feel proud of their self-righteousness, not for the good deed's own sake. Such was the people's delusion, and Celeste couldn't decipher whether she was exempt from it.

Stress closed in on the demon. Whatever crime she'd committed to spark this nonsense-logic eluded her. "Dammit, calm down," she breathed. "Calm down, calm down."

Peace denied the queen, and instead the rift of her psyche only grew. Haunting tones and distorted inflections filled her skull - no - the entire bathroom, wriggling into Celeste's ears. Did she honestly consider herself worthy to sleep next to Lucy knowing she put her brother on puppet strings? To use that wicked spell on him, Celeste could be no more than a witch.

"Stop...stop," she hissed under her breath. She'd crush her brain and throw it into the wall if she could. Her confusion had always existed; since the dawn of her life did Celeste question herself, but recently it had worsened one thousand fold.

And whatever hid under her skin haunted her, attune to her self-inflicted debate.

She choked on air, her voice clotting and her vision swimming. She pressed her back against the cold wall and slid down, breath shallow and rapid. She hugged herself and her claws dug into the back of her nightgown. She wished they'd tear through the black fabric and rip that face out of her back because it mocked exactly how she felt - two-faced.

"Just stop...please, I'm so confused..." Celeste whimpered. "I am a good person...I just..." Celeste couldn't hear her voice, only felt tears mask her face.

The door swung open without a creak or a scratch. Lucy's shout made its way to the demon's ears. "Cel! Whoa, what's going on!?" The malamute pawed to the corner where Celeste curled up, clutching herself with her knees to her chest.

"Lucy, help!" Celeste cried. "Help, help!"

"What's wrong? Cel, shh calm down, tell me what's wrong," Lucy pleaded. She knelt by her girlfriend and started a hug, but Celeste slapped her hand away.