Zoe's only wish is to be able to run barefoot through grass, but she knows it'll never happen. Ever since she was born, she's been unable to touch anything living without it instantly dying. It's a curse she would do anything to get rid of, but that...
"How annoying," Dad muttered, as Zoe remained silent and I watched as he slapped her again.
I didn't know what about that slap that did it, but it broke all of her concentration and an earth shattering scream came from her. It almost didn't even sound human. Pure pain. That's all that the scream was.
It froze me in place. I couldn't move or think. The scream was the most terrifying thing I had ever heard.
"That's better," I heard my dad's voice over the sound of her scream. Satisfaction laced his voice and as he talked, she went from screaming to sobbing. The crown was off.
"Talk!" he ordered.
"It's a fucking curse!" she yelled. "I was born this way. There is no spell!"
I watched him lower the crown again and that time she didn't even try not to scream. A layer of sweat started to cover her, which flew off her body as she twisted with the pain. Completely uncontrollably, she screamed and tugged at the chains, and all I wanted was to beg for her forgiveness.
"She could be telling the truth," I said in a weak voice. I had to make it stop. Had to get her out of there. But I didn't know how. I didn't know how to go against my dad.
"Don't fall for her charm!" was his only answer, and then he took off the crown again.
"It's the truth."
He didn't even have to ask that time before she started repeating that sentence over and over.
"Dad, maybe..." I tried again.
"Shut up!" was the only reply I got from him, but the more important reply I got was from Zoe. She seemed to have forgotten that I was there, but when she heard my voice, her head snapped to look at me.
Exhaustion. That was all I could see in her eyes. And the fact that she had given up. They were empty, hallow.
I wanted to run over, hold her to me, and beg for forgiveness. But since I couldn't, I simply thought those two words. Forgive me. As I thought them, I managed to fool myself that there was a ghost of a smile on her lips. But the crown fell on her head again before I could be sure, but that small hope of that there had been a smile made me think that sentence over and over.
"What makes you think this is something that I would do to myself?" Her eyes were filled with murderous anger. As scary as that look was, it made me hopefully. It, at least, was better than the emptiness from moments before.
"I can't touch anything living," she went on. "I have never been hugged, or kissed, or just gotten to hold someone's hand. My greatest wish is to run barefooted through grass."
"Like your kind cares about that? All you want is power and suffering," Dad said, and the slight hope I had had before disappeared.
She sat in the chair like a rag doll who had been drenched in water. The metal clamps were the only things holding her up.
"You don't know what true suffering is," she whispered. It was such a quiet whisper that it was barely audible, but it spoke in such volume that it was impossible to miss. "This is the worst torture you can do to me, correct? It does hurt so bad that I wish you would just kill me. But do you know what true suffering is? Fear, self-hatred, guilt. That destroys a person, while what you are doing will only kill me."
He hit her again, and blood came from her mouth, and in that moment, she snapped.
The crown barely touched her head before she started screaming again, but it was not just the terrible scream anymore. Instead, it was a string of words.
"What do you want me to say!" she yelled. "Tell me. I'll tell you anything you want to hear."
"The truth!"
"I already told you. I told you the truth. I can lie. I made a spell. It needs the full moon and the liver and blood of a goat. Just stop this. It all hurts, everything hurts. I can't anymore. I can't. Kill me!"
I already was sick to my stomach, but at that I actually turned and puked. It all just was too much, it was sickening.
When I looked back up, Dad had not noticed anything. He was too focused. But I couldn't wait any longer. I didn't care what my dad might do anymore. Nothing could be worse than what was happening.
"Dad, please. She must be telling the truth. Just stop this!"
As I said that, Zoe's head went up and her eyes locked onto mine. There was an emptiness in them that made me sure that she couldn't actually see me. But at the same time, she pierced me with her gaze when she shouted again.
"Please! Just stop it. Stop it. Kill me. Please. Anything. Just anything. I can't anymore. I don't want to. Please! Kill me."
"Just let her rest for a little at least!" I begged.
"No. She'll crack soon and tell the truth."
"Can't you see that she's already cracked? She'll die if you don't stop. Please! Just stop it!"
"No."
"Dad, you are fucking killing her."
"Nothing more than she deserves."
"Just stop."
"If you can't handle this, then leave. I'm going to stay and listen to her screams."
He barely glanced back at me as he said that, but I knew then that there was no persuading him.
I hope you can forgive me, I thought while looking at Zoe, who hadn't taken her eyes off me.
"I don't blame you," she said, as if she answered me. Even though I knew that was impossible, a part of me hoped as I continued to talk to her in my mind.
You're too good.
"No. I deserve this."
No!
That made the only truth my dad would find out that day emerge. Though I hated myself intensely for not doing anything earlier.
I looked around and found something that seemed to be an iron rod. I picked it up and walked towards my dad. My movements must have alerted him, because he turned around and started getting to his feet. He looked at me first with confusion, but then he must have seen something that made him understand as panic started showing.
"What are you doing? Stop!"
I let the rod fall onto his head and he fell to the floor. Quickly, I removed the crown from her head and then bent down to check on my dad. He was still alive, though in that moment I didn't know if that made me feel relief or disappointment. I took the key to the chair's restraints from his pocket and was somewhat happy he had insisted on that I wore gloves and clothes that covered me as protection as well.
When the clamps were off, I picked her up and held her carefully. I was so afraid that she would break and lose hold of life. I held her like a bride and pressed her to my chest. Feeling completely helpless and lost, I decided to take her to the only place that I could think of that might help her.
"Soon you can rest surrounded by life," I whispered to her as I carried her out of the basement.
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