Crossroads

I sit in the dark room weeping. My desk is cold and the wood is rough on my fragile skin. The tick, tick, tick of the clock on the wall is withering away at what little patience I have left. It begins to rain. What time is it? Midnight? The clock’s too far away and it’s too dark. Did Mr Tonry refill my whisky? I reach down to the cupboard where it’s kept. Nothing. He probably took it down to the kitchens, waiting for the delivery of the new bottles. He’s too good at his job. I wish just sometimes he would neglect such little things. But then why would I be paying him?

The lights turn on and I squint in the blinding white rays. There’s a figure at the door but I ignore it. I’m depressed.

“Your majesty?” It’s Mr Tonry. I try to reach for the pillow on my loveseat so I can throw it at him and tell him to leave, but instead I end up on the floor, looking up at the overly decorated ceiling.

“Please, your majesty. Go to bed.” Mr Tonry reaches down and helps me up. He is young and fit, with a certain air of standards even now when it’s after dark. And to think that all those years ago we used to be best friends. Sharing secrets in the dark boarding school corridors, daring each other to go up to Ms Routs and stick our tongues out at her and run away, him crying into my shoulder when his dog lost its life. And then when I was sixteen, when my grandmother took me here to England to rule the throne. Back then it was just training, a constant reminder of whom I was to become. But now I am who I was supposed to be, or so they all say. When my grandmother passed away three years ago, I did not cry for her. She had ruined my chance to have a normal life, and so then I did not cry. But now, without her guiding hand on my back telling me which way to turn, I feel constantly out of my depth and purely alone. I can’t tell anyone what I have to decide, it’s too big and too dangerous.

“Your bed is waiting, ma’am.” Mr Tonry bows down in respect and starts to walk towards the door and flips the light switch on the velvet-covered wall.

“Thank you, Tanni. You took some time out of your life for me, just to get me off the floor. You deserve much more than I can give you.”

“Did you just call me by my...nickname?” He turns around, his face obscured by the black.

“Yes. I suppose I did. I’m sorry if it’s out of line, I was just thinking aloud.”

“Just keep it as Mr Tonry please, your majesty. My past is behind me.”

“Okay. I’m sorry. I don’t know what I was saying. Just ignore me.” He gives a little chuckle.

“It’s my job to pay attention, so if you want me to remain, I can’t ignore you.” I smile and he turns and leaves the room. As soon as his heavy footfall is gone, I slouch back on my desk and wince with the pain of losing my only friend. Even with him being long gone, I had thought some connection remained. I was wrong. I must have been, because I can’t see anything left of the Tanjen Tonry I once knew and loved.

I cry myself to sleep.

I look in the mirror, and I see me. Kaylen Sydnie, plain, simple and untouched by the blemishes of life. Then I burn. I’m made of paper, blistering and blemishing as the flames consume me. Now I am ash and the wind blows me away.