Amethyst 1. Inception ✓

28. Penance

My mind kept drifting. My insides felt as if they had emptied of all thoughts and emotions. I felt like I was in a dreamlike state as I left my room, wandering the palace like a ghost in the dead of the night. 

I stroked my hand along the wooden panelling on the walls, gazing beyond the window. I was thankful that the corridor was empty. I turned when I heard the sound of a tiny click and saw a man in the requisite black uniform for the Guard leaning against the wall at the end of the corridor. The click had sounded from his silver lighter which he now slipped into his pocket, puffs of smoke emanated from his mouth as he lowered the lit cigarette from between his lips.

I took a sharp breath, an idea forming in my mind and turned towards the left, making my way to the smaller kitchen located on my floor. It was late and I didn't expect to see too many people in the kitchen. I entered the large metallic doors, eyeing the long, empty counters and the massive door which led to the storage at the back of the room. A few servants roamed around, lazy conversation floating between them while others talked and laughed. None of them paid attention to me expect a curious glance that I chose to ignore.

As the bastard to the royal family, most people at the palace tended to avoid me, which to me, felt blissful. 

I spotted a silver lighter on the counter and grabbed it, slipping it into my pocket. Smoking inside the kitchen area wasn't allowed, maybe I was doing a favour by nicking the lighter anyway.

I slipped out of the kitchen and quickly made my way back to my room, shutting the door carefully behind me.

I sat on the bed, my legs planted firmly on the ground as if still struggling to root in reality. I reached for my pocket, taking out the silver lighter and gazing at it carefully. I hadn't smoked for a few months now, ever since I had left Stonewall. But now, my desire with the lighter was something else. Perhaps more destructive, but infinitely more satisfying.

I couldn't believe what I had done. What I had put my father through. The way I had yelled at him. Even hurt him physically when I was younger. There was no way I deserved his kindness. There was no way I deserved his patience. A repulsive sense of vehemence engulfed me. I detested myself. My entire existence. Every breath I took felt like a waste of precious air.

I clicked the lighter as it came to life and stared at the bright, orange-yellow flames. The dark blue at its core, setting the tongues of fire alight. I brought it closer to my face, gazing at the way the fire burnt steadily. Slowly, I drew my index finger on my other hand towards it, moving it closer and closer to the fire. I stopped breathing, losing control of my actions.

The fire would punish me as I deserved. The scalding would be my atonement.

My skin singed, screaming in burning pain as the tongues of flame ravaged it viciously. Ruthlessly. With much less cruelty than I deserved. I knew that for my skin to actually burn, I would need a time limit for at least a minute. But I did have an entire day.

I grit my teeth as the pain intensified, scalding my skin. I watched, satisfied as the yellow flickered along my finger, burning it. Scalding it till angry red patches were visible through the haze of flames.

The intense pain sent jolts of agony to my very core, a sense of satisfaction flooding through me. I was disgusted with myself. Yearning to burn my entire skin off. I wondered if a lighter flame would be enough for that? Perhaps.

I gasped in alarm when the door to my room opened. I cursed under my breath, disbelieving that I had forgotten to lock it in my haze. I quickly clicked the lighter off, throwing it behind me on the mattress and hiding it from view as my heart froze in terror the full force of the stinging pain from my burnt finger now coursing through my entire body.