Sweetish

Chapter 11

*squeak, squeak, squeak*
Sammy's shoes hesitantly squeaked down the halls of her dark and giant family home, echoing louder than the cavern she was just in an hour ago. For as cold and pristine the ivory prison was, her presence was like a warm candlelight over a dark blue candle. A candle with ragged hair and a new, soon to bruise bite mark on her neck that she would have to cover with makeup. Out of all the time they spent together, that was the last reaction she expected. He just stuck his tongue out at her like at her like a teasing child before saying something about meeting up tomorrow and left as if it were nothing. Not one crystal spilled out.
Sammy recalled something about his people being more physical than her own but that was...

The heat radiating from her cheeks were almost as bright as the light on her phones flashlight, tightly gripped in her manicured hands.

She always hated manicures, they take far too long and every time she had an idea in her head about what she wanted, her mother would bombard her with a million more she has to sift through. Eventually she loses her will and becomes overwhelmed with what she could do. In the end she's paralyzed with the weight of the decisions and ends up going with a blank white canvas, as always, her first and safest choice. What would have been a 15 minute appointment always takes 2 hours. If her mother would just let her do things her way, she wouldn't have so many problems.

Her mother. The witch. The snake. The... ugly... mean... shrimp? Yeah. Shrimp is good. And she smells like it too. She must be here. She'll have to face her soon. There's no avoiding her. Her body involuntary shudders, and as her blood slowly turns to ice she recalls the events that played out earlier that evening. She is the one who owns this cage she has to return to every night. She has tried to find places to live but they were never good enough for her mother and every new detail Eleanorpicked at would throw her into a world of doubt. She would just give up in the end, all these choices are never the right one. At this point Sammy has a hard time knowing if any of her work is really hers, or just the voice of her mother echoing throughout her head telling her what SHE would have done.

Except with Dulce.

She's never wrong with him. He's always so detailed with how he goes about things, and yet there's never a doubt in his mind on whether she "meant to do that" or "say it that way". It's like he's in her head sometimes, but as a soothing presence, not at all like the silent venom she is used to skipping around. A hardened timberwolf who decided to befriend and play instead of devour. Although she has to admit she would love to capture an image of him really showing his strength.

Her mind trails off into images of her freind defeating some evil demon king fire erupting from his fist and incinerating the monster before she herself runs up to him and dramatically falls into his arms. As her muscle memory leads her back to her personal prison, clad in the finest silk and velvet her mother could nag her to buy, the squeaks echo faster and lighter. Her head was filled with Sakura flowers and her cheeks were bright once again, she was ready to fall onto her giant and in the safety of her covers and roll around in the romantic dreams she will be having, picking flowers in her mind to foretell whether her infatuation was reciprocated. If they would run away together to the mountains and frolick in the tulips and-

As she turns the knob to her room, all of her daydreams were brought to a screeching hault as she now realizes why her mouth never bothered to get up and answer the door. She was already making her wrath known, and sent a clear message about how she felt about earlier today.

Her bed was gone. Her 30 pound 7000 shell bed, made of the rarest fabrics and cottons, screwed into the wall, was gone.