The Tragic of England

Not Mine

     I waited, breathing ragged and blood chilled, until I heard a car hum to life and roar off into the distance. I replaced the sword carefully and dragged myself back to the front door. It creaked open with a louder volume then I recalled. There wasn’t anything to worry about, in my opinion. I’d probably pass out if anything else was dumped on me. I almost wanted it, too. It’d make my life a whole lot easier.

     “Destiny? Are you okay,” I heard Arthur from the kitchen. Anger welled up out of nowhere. I trudged over and collapsed on the couch without a word. I held my head in my hands in a deathly tight grip. This was what I hated about my personality. I was too easy to trust. I couldn’t believe I let him into my world. He’d ripped it apart, too, just as everyone else had.

     I was so angry, I didn’t notice Arthur come and sit next to me. I didn’t notice till his hand redirected my vision from my lap to his face. I sat, baffled. He seemed to be looking for something, though what it was unclear to me as to what exactly that ‘something’ was. He then got embarrassed and backed off. I sunk into the couch, welcoming its sudden cover.

     “You hate people’s sympathy that much, huh?” I glanced at Arthur in surprise. He’d definitely found what he was looking for. I gaped, stuttering, trying to find to find a good excuse. A sudden smile on his lips left me speechless. “That’s just how it should be! Sympathy makes one weak! You should always strive to be strong,” he declared. I smiled a bit before reclining comfortably.

     “True, sympathy angers me, but what really makes me tick is when someone is trying to help me. You know, kind of like this: a billion dollars are given to a kid no older than sixteen, and a supposedly mythical dude shows up to take care of her. Excuse me, I’m gonna go see if I pass out walking up the stairs,” I growled. Arthur got the message. He was a bit shocked. I stood up shakily, much to my dismay. I made it halfway across the living room before I stopped. I couldn’t move. Something was holding me back. I didn’t understand though, because there wasn’t any physical contact around me. Arthur still sat stunned on the couch. My conscious gained control of me.

     ‘Your being held against your will by yourself,’ it whispered to me. I tried to fight it, but it overtook my systems. A manuel override. It took me upstairs to my room. I knew what was happening now. I muffled the scream of anguish. This couldn’t be happening. ‘It most definitely is,’ it growled. It couldn’t be me. That voice, was not mine. The demon was laying me in bed as everything went black.