Insane Little World

The acrid taste of bile surged up in Alyssane's throat, burning and bitter. She fought to suppress it as her body trembled.

But soon she had to grab the bucket again, as the water in her stomach violently rushed out along with a dizzying sensation that overwhelmed her.

There was nothing inside, yet her body desperately tried to purge the poison. Gasping, Alyssane forcefully gripped the wooden bucket, her muscles strained from the efforts.

"H-huff… hah…" Her breaths rasped as she tried to regain control of herself.

Three days have gone by since that fateful night. 

The guards locked her inside the tower, and they told her she would be arrested by the royal knights, but they never came.

And the poison's effects lingered, making every moment an endless struggle between feverish slumbers or trembling bouts of retching.

The fear and uncertainties gnawed at her resolve. Alyssane was sure she would not receive a fair trial. Who would believe a madwoman's words? Who would care for a slave's life?

'Maybe, it was a mistake…' She wondered, the exhaustion lulling her to the darkest of thoughts.

But, it had merely been a game of choosing her misery.

At thirteen, both ends of her path lead to a suffocating life. She could have either been a slave forced to sell her body, or a madwoman with an unknown journey.

Even that was not entirely in her hands.

Alyssane chose the latter and lived in wayward ways, sometimes scaring others, and sometimes being ridiculed by them, making them question her sanity.

Now, she questioned it as well.

Four years had passed, what bizarre things had she not done? But what if she had crossed a line somewhere… what if she was finally losing herself?

Her memories of an entire day were missing. It was like a veil had been drawn over, leaving behind only the strongest emotions of dread and fear. She could not recall even a single memory of that day.

More disturbing was the feeling of her death, and the strange sensation of drowning in the depths of a neverending nightmare.

The happenings of that night―an unusually enchanting moon, the urgent ringing of the bell―stirred emotions too raw and disturbing.

She had seen it in her dream, not only that, but she had lived that night before. She was sure of it. But how could it happen?

Alyssane curled her knees to her stomach.

'This half-remembrance hurts more.'

A gentle breeze seeped into the room, drawing Alyssane's attention. 

She quietly wiped her mouth.

She had resisted the urge to escape, fearing punishments of more severity if the knights arrived and found her missing. 

But three had gone by. 

How long could Alyssane wait for her death? Not when she knew how easily she had evaded the guards before, and how easily she could do it again now.

Taking a deep breath, Alyssane took out a pin hidden under her hair. She leaned against the doors of her chamber and waited for there to be a complete silence outside.

The timing was everything, and she had spent hours listening to the rhythmic pace of the guards. Every night, during these hours, two of the guards would disappear for half an hour.

Leaving the unsuspecting young guard behind.

Having escaped the tower so many times before, slipping out of one locked room was easy. 

Her nerves tensed with each step, but Alyssane was swift as a fox, fluid and graceful but her heartbeats were running wild. She kept close to the walls and the shadows.

The gate of the tower appeared soon, as did the shadow of an approaching guard. Alyssane hurriedly hid behind a pillar, staggering from a sudden flare of pain. 

Some of her unhealed wounds opened and throbbed with a dull ache.

Forcing herself to ignore it, Alyssane counted the steps of the guard, and as soon as she could, she darted out of the door.

The night winds were alive, threading through her hair as she ran barefoot.

Her breaths grew shorter, the burning pain more intense, but she could not stop. There was a sense of freedom touching her heart.

It buried her fears. Almost.

She had hesitated for years, spun a thousand ways to escape the manor once and for all. But one thing or another always brought her back, she could never go far enough.

This time, there was no other option.

Alyssane fell twice while running. Her body was not as strong as her will. The pain was dizzying, overlapping with the old and new wounds. Madame Juan had wanted to ensure Alyssane would not even dream of escaping again.

And so she sent her most trusted knight to make sure she suffered every minute of her confinement. His voice was still fresh in her mind.

"The nights won't care as long as I leave you alive."

"What will you offer if I stop?"

"You are of no use anyway."

Her eyes glistened with furious tears, the memories hurt more than the physical wounds. But time was ticking by, she could not allow herself to dwell on anything other than running away, she could not stop.

Not even to ease her laboring breaths.

Alyssane pushed herself up from the ground, rushing towards the wall she had climbed a hundred times before. One time with a broken hand, and each time climbing it had been like tasting bittersweet nectar.

Euphoric and frightening.

Her fingers gripped the rough stones, she pulled herself on the top of the wall, and she could hardly breathe. But as she glanced back one last time, a voice whispered in her mind.

'What if this is trading one prison for another…?'

'The city is far more vicious.'

Her thoughts are interrupted by shifting shadows afar. Armored knights neared her tower, restless, talking among themselves. 

Except for one, who directly stared at her.

He was barely discernible against the dim darkness but she felt a shiver run down her spine as he watched her, silent and unmoving.

Like a predator watching his prey.

'Fuck…'

Startled, Alyssane lost her footing.