Sink

The Bleeding Pool

"I was seven when my mother backhanded me because I made it clear I disliked the way my handmaid had styled my hair," I speak to the window. It is closed, but I know he can hear me. I see the slight shift in his head. Intrigue.

"I was nine when my mother pulled the hair I so disliked because I did not like the color of the dress she had picked out."

He steps closer to the window. I check the clock on the girl's wall. Midnight. He always did go by the rules. One step closer. Everyday.

"I was ten when she and my father schemed to marry me off. I knew by then not to speak any of my opinions, not to show displeasure, or any emotion for that matter. Even if the opinion was about me and my future."

My heightened senses have always angered me beyond measure, but now they provide me the help I need. I can hear the shift in his breathing, the gleam in his eyes going from predatory to fascinated.

I raise my chin. "I'll make you a deal. One story for one step back. I know how lonely it is to be around my parents, what it did to me as a child, as a teenager, as a young woman. I can imagine how bad it would be for an advisor, only seen as a tool. Mind only used for scheming and carnage, never allowing you solace to ponder anything else. One story for one step back. This first one was for free."

He didn't nod. He didn't cock his head. The only way for me to know is to continue.

"I was scolded for laughter. My mother's nostrils flared when I frowned. Tears were treated with slaps. Sobs were treated with a staff. Nowhere was safe, my back, my arms, my legs. Only my face was spared. My face is important. My face should never have anything but a plastered smile. I am a princess, so even the strikes on my body were never hard enough to leave marks. Only hard enough to teach lessons. The most important being: emotion is taboo. I am above emotion. I am a faerie. Not any faerie. Earth. In my mother's eyes we are the highest of all. She sneered at Water, at Air. She begrudgingly allowed my father the alliance with Fire, for they are the most powerful.

"Don't be a monster, but do not show emotion. That is my mother's motto. Contradictory to the end. I imagine no one knows I'm missing? I imagine she told the people of the palace and subjects that I am on a trip? I imagine no one even knows you're gone either. No one really cared for your whereabouts anyway. No one... except me."

At that, I hear a stutter in his heartbeat. I wait. I breathe.

One.

Two.

He takes a step back.

Relief envelopes me, cool as a balm.

He doesn't ask me what I mean about caring. I won't let him know yet. It will be my last bargaining chip.

I walk into the tiny kitchen to make myself a cup of tea. I need a warm companion to get me through these stories. I can feel his eyes on me, tracking every movement.

With tea in hand, I settle back onto the couch. The aroma of mint quiets my thundering heartbeat, if only for a couple of minutes. The dancing steam tries to feed calm into my shaky hand as I drift it over the cup, playing with the white tendrils. Water has the power to acclimate based on the elements influencing it. I hate fire to my core, but I have to admit that without it, people would not have realized water can be heated. That when heated it formed clouds of air. That when those clouds cooled, they came back down as water. I long to be as versatile as water.

"My dad never laid a hand on me. I'm guessing you know that. It didn't make him any less evil, because he watched. He never stopped her, never scolded her, never interfered. He believed it was for the better.