Basilisk

Okay

I don't quite know what's going on, not really.

I'm being dragged through a dizzying carousel of people and walls and things, so many things, that I can barely even focus on.

Strong hands are wrapped around my wrist, pulling me forward harshly. Warm hands that feel cold.

I'm don't quite know what's going on and I'm thankful for it.

I'm scared but I feel too dizzy, too weak-willed to act upon the fear.

I feel hesitant but the hand pulling me hushes the errant thoughts inside me. Silences the voice wanting me to run away.

Until I meet a pair of eyes I can't look away from. Aching with hunger. Big and young and anguished. I stop in my tracks. Almost fall over. So young. So hungry.

I turn to the child. Look at him. He looks at me. My mind is coming back into focus now. Suddenly a broad figure steps between me and the child.

The child. I can't see him anymore. I look at the figure in front of me. Oh. It's him. The one who was holding my wrist. He arrests me in his gaze. I'm dizzy again.

He hands me a handful of pills, like a child offering candy to their friend. I tip them into my mouth, dry-swallowing them. It hurts and I almost choke but I need to quell the budding desire in my heart to just start screaming. I need to stop feeling so ... so flighty. I need to make my mind able to walk where my wrist is being pulled to. The pills crawl into my aching, empty stomach. And suddenly the world is blurrier and dizzier than it's ever been and I can barely keep standing.

"Walk," he says, his sweet candy voice having cold icy undertones. I walk. I walk and I keep walking and I walk and I walk and I walk.

A door. A pretty familiar one. Mahogany. Ivory-trimmed. Rich. I'm scared of it. I don't know why. The brass lock clicks open and I'm pulled into the densely-carpeted mass. White walls. Paintings. Paintings. Paintings. Gold. Terror. Inside me. But my mind and body are too weak to do anything about it. Which is perfect. If I can swallow this terror I won't have to face THAT terror.

I need to .... I don't know.

The world keeps spinning and I cling to the hope that tomorrow I'll forget that tonight even happened. I freeze, guiltily, and push that thought away.

I force myself up the stairs.

———

Black nothingness melts into gold and white. Carved figures. The agony of bright sunlight. Headache. An overwhelming, sick feeling permeating through my soul. Nothing. I feel like nothing. But I always did.

I tumble out of bed and make my way to the bathroom. I throw up. It physically feels like my stomach is being pulled apart. It was empty to begin with and it's emptier now, somehow. I don't care. Hunger just means that my collar bones will get more prominent, my arms more delicate, my waist more thin.

I make my way back into the spacious bedroom, onto the plush silk sheets. I shiver a bit, and consider just leaving out the door. That thought makes me shiver more. My slow feet drag me back to the four-poster prison and I drape myself over it. No, not prison. This is a place of hope, a place of opportunity.

"Hey. Someone's up." His voice is always sweet but with a sharp, menacing edge. If you brushed against it it was so unbearably soft. But if you leaned into it, it would cut you.

"Yeah. Someone is up. What's it to ya?" I'm tired, my voice the tiniest bit cracked.

"Get in the car. We're going to breakfast. And then we're flying to Dubai. It would be such a lavish place to spend the weekend."

No no no I don't want this I'm too tired I want to curl up with my sister in in a dark room that's a bit too warm and just a touch smokey. I want soft words and slow caresses and being able to sleep soundly.

Wait. What am I thinking? It will be fun. It will be good. He has so much to show me. So many places to fu... oh God. My legs move of their own accord, towards the door, towards the morning outside and towards the sweepings of the streets.

The children, the beggars, the people desperately selling trinkets, the people waiting at the bus stop on their way to factories like cattle coalescing outside the slaughterhouse. It wasn't fair, wasn't fair, wasn't fair the way the world was. It wasn't fair that some people were born into wealth and health and others were born into death. But the world was human and free. I could disappear into that.

"Oh are you leaving?" He said it so innocently yet I didn't miss the subtle fingers of a threat in his words. I'm snapped back into reality. No I'm not leaving. Of course I'm not leaving.

Just to to be sure my mind doesn't fucking betray me again I gulp down a pill that helps with anxiety. I feel numb now. Like I'm in water, like I'm looking at the world from inside an aquarium. I feel slightly nauseous. I eat more pills than food. It's worth it though.

"I'll get ready. Get my hair just how I want it, find nice clothes, all that." Be gorgeous for him.

"You do that. You always look so pretty for me." That statement makes me want to die. But no. Of course I'm pretty for him. The least I can be is his.

So I force a smile.