The Maid and Her Princess

The Heartbroken Maiden (part 4)

IV.

1. Dreams of...

I used to think that... Maybe if you were gone you'd see him again. You and him would be somewhere far away from this place. You'd be happy. Smile freely. You would never have to see this old, haggard woman ever again. You would never have to hear him force the title "Daughter" on you again. Truth is, I thought I wouldn't make it after he died. I thought that I would sleep on his side of the bed and just... vanish entirely. Then all of this happened. None of us truly deserve to even look you in the eyes. I, in whatever fragments left of my broken and guilty conscience, could barely remember your name. Clarity always comes too late, doesn't it? Forgiveness, late apologies, longing for contact, it's all pathetic to beg for, isn't it? Every day was a struggle to keep him happy once you're beaten down and ruined continuously for years. I found myself coming back like a sickly, pavlovian dog. I remembered what he told me everytime we briefly came back to the homeland.

"Throw all the stuff I bought for you in that brat's house! I'll get replacements, okay?"

He said that and then dragged me back to his truck by the hair.

I didn't take you. Didn't look back. Couldn't. I didn't know what to do. When we were on the run, I still slept on his side of the bed and waited desperately for my turn for an illness— anything— that would destroy my health. Nothing happened. I'm still here. I thought since you were dead, I'd finally get to go to hell in peace. Where I truly belong is here in this cell. Days blended into one miserable and blank dream. There was quite nothing to do here but rot. They moved me to general population, where I'd hear rumors go on about myself everyday. I even got a few slaps and hair pullings here. I didn't fight back. My body only longed for its soul to vacate this world forever.

"That's the bitch who watched her child get murdered, no one wants filth like you here— and some of us are the filthiest you know!"

I couldn't have children because of my age, yet they targeted there anyways. I spent multiple days and nights handcuffed to a cold metal bench posing as a hospital room. When they finally released me after the bare minimum treatment of me, I sat in the cafeteria in a daze. When I saw you, it was during lunch when the TV was on. My brain went mad, but you were truly on the screen. To me, you were there and alive. To others, I was sure my mind had completely shattered as I began to wail uncontrollably. You grew so tall, you wore glasses and a blazer that probably cost a fortune, but they could not hide your eyes. I knew those eyes, staring at me even as he choked you. They gleamed not with any pleading or sorrow, but with an ambition I could never even begin to guess which parent you got it from. I was sure I beat crying out of you with my own hands, which only made my state worse to other people but I didn't care. I sat, crying for a long time, even though I didn't have the right to. Saying I am proud of you. I am happy that you managed to thrive even through all the things I put you through. I began to dream of your face, twisted into disgust, giving me all the things I thought you would rightfully say to how much of a failure of a mother I am. I woke and found myself back on a cold chair in the prison's hospital, cuffs on yet again. A single tear slid out of my eye when I received the reports. I didn't have much time left on this earth anymore.

At last, No more Tomorrows for me.

Madoka woke up in a cold sweat, still sprawled out on the edge of the bed where she fell before the girl did that strange thing to the Crystal inside of her. She knew that speaker in her head was from the same vision she received from Audrey and she knew exactly who the old woman was. It was Her Highness's true mother! Or rather the pathetic excuse of what remained. That guilty woman saw Audrey one last time before dying in obscurity. Yet, how could that be? Was Audrey from the other side still... alive? If that was the case, who... Madoka glanced at the floor.