- 𝐜𝐡𝐫𝐲𝐬𝐚𝐧𝐭𝐡𝐦𝐮𝐦𝐬 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐛𝐥𝐨𝐨𝐦. . .💐

◇ 01 ◇

It was eating away her flesh. Tearing and shredding, until it reddened and blistered. Even after, it continued to consume and consume. Over time, she must have been swallowed as the it felt that sun was embracing her closely. Yet, there was no sun, for the world around her had grown blurry and vivid, as if the paintstrokes of a painting - smeared and destroyed. 

Her breathing was obstructed by a black fume; it was strangling her but, she stood up anyways. She staggared towards a full moon, and flang the glass open - with all her remaining strength. Her arms were sore, and her head felt no better. She was soon looking down at pitch black, and a few dozen trees that she could make out. 

She slumped down to the floor again, leaning against the cupboard. At least from there, she could distance herself from the beast that roared angrily. Although, the longer it continued, the more it seemed to grow closer. She rose her voice, until it could at least reach the other side. No response came back to her, as at that moment, all she could see was the washing of orange flames, dancing below her feet. 

There was no more to see or hear, as she had droven off to a slumber. Where the pain worsened, and the warmth remained. She was in hell; there were no means of escape. Even if there were, it would eventually lead to a cubersome death. 

●◇●

"Quick! Call for the madam!" There were voices, a bunch of them, with swift, hurried movements. Footsteps were heading towards her, she could hear, where a figure appeared. He wore brown, rimmed glasses, that sat on his nose. His eyebrows were furrowed, expressing worry. Around him, there was so much brightness. It looked like she was in a realm of pure white, until a voice knocked her uncousiness away. 

"Lady Ericka?" His voice was stern, and with a tinge of anxiety. He was speaking, although, her words couldn't slip past her lips to reach his ears. "Lady Ericka?" 

Her eyes felt heavy, especially the fact that one side was completely covered. It was quite sore, on side of her face, not to mention her arms. They felt numb at first, but the feeling grew gradually. Her body was weak, and her only strength remained in her eyes. She could at least see clearly now, whilst the light grew dimmer. 

"Chrysa!" A tenderly, familiar voice called from the door. Their footsteps were loud, and frantic. When she was closer, she took a glimspe of the woman. Tearful eyes as she covered her mouth. Her hair strands carelessly left in a disray, yet normally she remembered her neat she was. Her hair was normally combed back, and tied to a low bun with that white ribbon. She even wore pearl earrings; at least those were still there. 

"Is she okay? Why is she not speaking?" She was stuttering, a sharp agony that pierced every word she uttered. The man, beside, spoke but it did not satisfy the shiny-eyed pupils. She sat below, right next to her on the bed. Her hands were shaking yet they still gently held Chrysa's bandaged hand. 

"Chrysa..." 

'Mother.' She uttered her name invisibly. Her lips parted, and it followed with her skin stretching, excruitating with pain. The shrewd texture stroked the bandages above - she could even feel small bumps as it did so. She glanced at the man, beside, looking anxiously between the two. Before mother spoke again, Chrysa mustered up her voice again. "Mother." 

"Yes? Do you need anything? Are you in any discomfort?" 

"May I have some water?"

"Get me a glass of water. Hurry!" she ordered, without taking a glance at the scattered maids who hurried to fetch a glass and fill it with a crystal, clear liquid that volumed in the depth of the cup. Her mother smiled brightly, stroking her daughter's fragile hand. 

Yet, that itchy texture over her eye was quite frustrating. Her face on one side did feel strangely heavy and bumpy against the soft fabric. She fluttered her covered eye slowly, but all she could find was darkness. It felt suffocating. 

"Mother, why is my eye covered like this? Everthing feels far too strange," The words fell off her tongue and made their way. She moved her lips but the mere thought felt like skin would stretch and tear. It brought up horrible memories. It triggered tears to prickle her eyes, they stinged her face as they trailed down her cheeks.

Her mother's smile evaporated into a gloom. She turned towards the docter who uttered a word, too quite yet loud enough to hear. Although as her emotions overwhelmed her feeable body, she felt that everything was abnormal - overwhelming in other words. The maids took her side whilst her mother drifted away with the docter. He picked up a medicine and took a glance to her then and now. 

Chrysa attempted to pick herself up, raise her a head a little and move her arms. An attempt or rather a rearssurence that her body was still hers. It was still under her control. It was still healthy and working. Yet, she only felt sore bones that poked at her poor flesh. There were already people near her who stopped her from moving any further. Her mother's hand on her shoulder, pleading for her to lie down. 

"I need to see my face. Give me the mirror." 

"No, Chrysa, lie down. You are unwell. Lie down and rest otherwise, you will cause yourself more pain."

"Please Lady Ericka. I promise you that once you take your medicine, you will be well."

"Why...are you preventing me from seeing my face? Has it gone that bad? What happened? Did that- that-it destroyed my face, didnt it! Give me my mirror." 

"It is better you do not see it, Chrysa. Please, for your own sake, lie down." 

"Madam Ericka, I think it would be best to comply. She is causing herself pain by fighting back like that." 

Mother sighed, her hands around her Chrysa's shoulders grew weak. The maid brought a mirror towards Chrysa, holding it up so she could witness the bandages that covered one half of her face. The remnants of the scar still leaked through, running over nose and soon degrading after that point. Her hair was short, not long anymore. She looked unfamiliar. Everything felt unfamiliar. This was not real. It did not feel true as she stared deep into dull eyes that once sparkled visibly. The stars she once carried had fallen. The petals have grown wrinkles and died. 

She looked dead.