Mirror Darkly

 

Someday soon I'll dry these tears

            And fall asleep a million years

           And 'til the graying Earth is dead

       I'll rot alone within my head

 

I woke up face down on the rough wood of the attic. Not the first time it’s happened, but it’s never a good thing. My back twitched and I groaned, not a real groan more of a strangled word that couldn’t quite make it out of my bruised throat. It might have been fuck but then it could just as easily have been eraugggh or some shit. Then I noticed something else. I was naked. As I distinctly-painfully-reluctantly remember putting clothes on that can’t be a good thing. This time the groan definitely sounded like ‘fuck’.

My limbs were loose and tingly in a my-bone-have-been-ripped-out kind of way not an I-just-came sort of way. The second one would have been a preferred choice—well maybe not if wolf was the one who…Ew no brain why would you give me that image?!  Wolf had obviously heard the piano, big surprise. I was beaten again, yet another big surprise. But I wasn’t dead, though I would probably wish I was once the swelling set in. I went to push myself up, but my arms couldn’t take my weight, my wrist feeling as though lightning were running through it. Maybe it would be better if I just laid here for a bit.

Waking up the second time was worse than the first. The loose feeling was long gone, an unbearable tightness left in its wake. It was like being wrapped in bandages so tight the skin seemed to rip. Now I know how girls feel in those ridiculously tight garments they are expected to wear. Joy. On the plus side my wrist didn’t feel like a horse had stepped on it anymore.

I pushed myself up, my skin pulling as dried blood flaked off. The pain was suspiciously absent though it would no doubt rear its ugly head when I least expected it. My body was a douche like that. Something soft brushed my shoulder as I pulled on my damp pants from the day before. A…feather? Maybe wolf dropped it when…but no why would he have a terracotta colored feather the length of a palm on him? And what the hell kind of fucked up bird has rust colored feathers in the first place?

I brought the feather closer to my face. Odd sort of thing, with the size I might have thought it a flight feather but it was to soft for that, the bird must have been enormous. A mutant elephant-bird crossover? That wouldn’t explain the color though, even if that disgusting-mental-image was possible. It would end up some sickly grey shade of wrinkly flesh, not red sand. Red sand?

“Son of a bitch!” I dropped the feather as my eyes burned. I blinked heavily through my…tears? It felt too hot for tears.

“Blood?” I squinted at my red stained fingers. Lovely. I might not have any blood left if things kept going as they were.

 “I suppose weeping blood is better than vomiting it.” Because you know weeping blood is so normal.  I kept wiping at my eyes until the burning faded and there was nothing left to wipe.  Gotta love strange body functions.  Now we’re had that feather gone to?  It’s not as if there was anything for it to fall under. Nothing on the floor but crusted blood…wait what was that? I bent down to look at my blood, the tender scabs on my back splitting open with the movement. I took several minutes to stop gasping and let the pain die down again. Bending is an evil thing. I blinked my eyes clear of sweat and reached down to grab at the odd shape on my blood stained floor. It was the feather—but somehow it was darker than before. Like it had sucked up the blood and taken its color. Freaky. The hatch to my cell room creaked open; I tossed the feather in my canvas nest to hide it.

“You’re awake!” the voice sounded surprised.

“Had to happen sometime.”  They somehow looked more surprised at that statement than my being awake.

“With your injuries it’s a surprise you are living let alone standing.” What? That can’t be right—my back hurts from the belt but other than that I don’t feel too bad. Actually I felt rather good, the pain in my back was less torn skin feeling and more strained muscles—like I had been lifting heavy shit for several hours rather than being beaten. My head didn’t even throb and I know I got a boot to it at one point…geeze how long had I been out? I must have said that out loud as the unfamiliar women answered a day.

A Day.

What. The. Fuck.

I don’t heal that fast, no one heals that fast! She had to be lying—why would she lie about that?  She looked at me with wrong eyes. False concern drenching them like a miasma. She reached towards me and I shrank back baring my teeth with a growl as panic and disgust bubbled hotly in my chest. She needed to back the fuck away. Something in her eyes changed and she drew back—she seemed…excited?

“You rest for a bit, I will tell the others of your health.” As if the others cared. She went back down the hatch and I rushed to my nest, clutching at the feather like some sort of fucked up safety blanket.

“You should not trust her.” Oh thank you voice in my head, I had wondered where you had gone. I mean, why not add the threat of going crazy on top of this cluster fuck? Makes for a rather nice cherry on the Sunday and all that jazz.

“She means to kill you.” Ok voice-in-head that’s a bit paranoid even for me…still that look she gave me. No no! Agreeing with imagined voices is the opposite of what is good brain! We are sarcastic not schizophrenic!

“Boy! Get down here!” well that’s was…civil. Why did would sound civil? To me?!

Can we have a redo on this day? I don’t like were its going. The shout that came moments later when I didn’t move said no. redo is not happening.

They were in the salon, the Bladehertz’s and the Killatikus’s, sitting on prim furniture with an air of sickening decorum. Wolf looked smug. That did not make me feel better. Not. At. All.

“We are selling you to the Killatikus’s” wait hold on! Sell?

“That’s illegal.” Wolf grinned, his face oddly reminiscent of his name sake.

“Not if we list it as marriage.” Now the female from earlier looked smug.

“It’s not uncommon for a family to give a dowry for the privilege of having a member married into a higher family.”

“Dowries are gifts from the bride to the groom.” Not a trade token.

“Rather fitting as you are going to be their little bitch.” Agrippa smirked with glee at her quip.

“Wont marrying me be detrimental to your family?” I would much rather be work boy than shady slave trade.

“An unfortunate accident on the road after the wedding and a few tears will clear up any obligations my daughter would have as a wife.” Clever bitch really thought this out! Marry in for the trade, pretend I’m killed to get daughter out of marriage and what? Have me tag along as a mourner?

This was just not looking good.