2 Eyes Which Don't Blink

Sitting in my neglected room at the Estettes manor was like sitting on a chopping block. Every cup of tea, every meal, every quiet night; the greedy stares-- a little poison, a little accident-- and it was all over. If I had enough money, I would have branched out on my own, even if I had to take a job-- not that I'd be qualified. I've never done laundry before, or know how to sew. Even if I ran away and appealed to some other random family for marriage, without the approval of my family and the cancel of my engagement to Count Boran, I wouldn't be able to escape. And the other methods of 'escape'... I winced and set back to picking out an instrument.

Is the curse of the selfish person endless self-preservation? If I'm going to die, I will at least leave with my dignity intact. <<Cah,>> I chuckled at that too. Count Boran- he'd probably have to kill me after the wedding. I foolishly assumed I would be able to die with that at least...

More silence. It felt so sickening and crushing. I miss <them>... I miss <them>, yet this is all my fault. Do I even deserve to keep living like this? For how much longer can I keep lying to myself?

Spit gathered in the back of my throat as my fingers pulled my hair roughly, my skin hot and clammy as the first cry reverberated against my ribs.

"AGHH-"

How can I even have the gall to cry? Isn't this all my own making? Maybe if I had been...

Jumping up, I briskly walked over to the piano and slammed open the cover, the echo tickling my ears. With a deep breath, my fists rang harsh chords on the barely tuned piano, their cry reverberating within the room. All I could hear was the rapid and strained huffs which slithered through my teeth, my curled fists pressed into the uneven plate of the stained keys.

I hate this. It's not my fault-

I told myself that, yet I could never believe it. The image of my old family's faces pressed against my eyelids, my legs poised as tightly as they could, my stomach coiled in a deathly grip with wrath. While I wanted to blame my extended family-- my cruel cousins, aunt and uncle; I knew that because of my actions I was just as horrible as them.

"I hate-" My own teeth bit my tongue as I spat it out, my fingers trembling as I hastily pulled off my gloves and threw them on the ground. With nothing short of a small inhale, a violent, garish march was beat from the keys as I poured out all my malice; each key the token of a bruise. The very bones within my own hands ached, but as it was, it doesn't matter.

After a little while, my hands tired and my frustration barely released, my hand roughly slammed the cover over the keys. The risk of breaking or damaging anything-- it doesn't matter. As much as I wanted to hold onto the anger, the bitter power only pain brews, I couldn't stop the tight bite of my teeth chipping to my cheeks. Blood, spit, tears; everything began crashing down all at once. I <hate> this.

For a short while, I let myself cry, and with it more memories paced at the front of my mind.

<<"Now Eleanor, hate is a strong word- apologize to your brother.">>

I couldn't be bothered to know whether or not it would mean anything, or if anyone was listening, but so long as the emptiness in my chest couldn't swallow more than what was barely left of me already.

Words from the past haunted me like mystical lullabies, and I couldn't tell if my heart was comforted or further slaughtered by hearing them. Perhaps, it was both?

Lulled by my own sobs, the tired breath which followed after offered a tiny moment of peace-- a moment of appreciation for existing. Medaled with a pounding headache, I choppily swallowed the snot and tears down before brushing myself off. There wasn't any use staying here any longer.

I turned to exit before pausing briefly, my shadow cast before me from the light up above. This little dark den of music, where no one can see me and I can't see anyone-- it was a haven I had come to rely on for the past 5 years. The 20 luons tip I always get; for the first time, I began to wonder who it was from.

"I don't know if anyone is up there..." I cleared my sore throat and took one more deep breath.

"I usually play every Thursday, but tonight will be my last time coming here..."

Hearing the silence answer my words, I couldn't tell if it made me feel better or worse. Who would want to sit through someone abusing a piano for thirty minutes, as well as my own harmonic sobs and whines?

"I'm getting married." The flat tone of my voice made me only think more that I'm...

"I'm getting married, and then my family is going to murder me." Saying it, a blade of misery impaled my already fragile heart. I couldn't tell if I was cursing myself-- admitting defeat-- or if I needed to hear my own voice say it; for my thoughts to exist, for something of me to exist. All the beautiful lies I told myself suddenly felt like they were weighing me down, but I knew that in reality they always were. And the most beautiful of them all... I bit my tremoring lips and sucked in a deep breath.

What was the point in coming clean now? Did I want pity? Or did I want to repent? Unsure, I listened to the descending silence from above, the heaviness of a familiar guilt weighing upon my shoulders.

"But, don't feel too bad for me..." It was a selfish request, made for selfish reasons. To weigh even a touch more than a dove's feather on someone's mind; to taint their precious thoughts with my self-brought plight-- would be utterly and wholly wicked.

"Because-"

My voice was smothered by yelling and a loud scuffle outside, before my door swung and garishly clanged against the thin wall.

"You stupid girl."

My heart was too wounded to beat any faster, my mouth twisted in some terrified grimace. That familiar voice-- my vision blurry with my own tears. <<So it appears my game of cat and mouse has finally come to an end. How much trouble would I be in now, having been caught sneaking away from the manor?>>

I bowed customarily and sucked in a deep breath before looking at him-- my future husband and killer accomplice.

"Were you thinking of running away before the wedding?! Do you think I wouldn't find you?!" My skin turned to stone seeing him-- his dilated pupils and slanted glare. His dirty blonde hair was completely disheveled, his white shirt stained by what looked like beer. He waited for a moment as if he wanted me to acknowledge him or plead for mercy, but I couldn't lift my exhausted tongue to form any words. <<What do you want me to do Boran?>>

"What, now you won't even speak to me?!" My neck bent tensely as his large hand bit into my shoulder. All that could come out was a faint groan, the pounding in my head growing more cacophonous.

"Cah," He chuffed. "You're nothing but a pathetic bitch. Should I just kill you before the wedding?"

The seethe was followed by a maniac chuckle and snake-grin. Oddly enough, part of me wondered if this could be my chance-- if, by a miracle, there was someone in the audience, they could be a witness and save me from this drunk and bumbling fool. Ironically, as soon as I felt that glimmer of hope surface, I also knew that with the Count's connections; no one would believe me. It would become a petty fight between a young 'couple'-- isn't that right? Isn't that what I learned after trying to escape the tenth time?

"To think the dignified Estettes believe in magic contracts. Why else would I marry you? If you want to live, you should be begging me. BEGGING ME."

His black eyes looked more like coals as he shoved his frayed face in front of mine, the disgusting reek of alcohol soiling the back of my throat. The nonsense he was spewing was far from entertaining, and my shoulder had gone numb while he was talking. With all the ruckus, even the dim lighting from the small stage sharply stung at my eyes. What was he on about? Magic contracts? I couldn't stop the small smile which hitched the corner of my mouth, impressed. To think someone like Boran was spouting such superstitious botchery <tsk tsk>.

The rough callouses of his palm harshly crushed my face as he pulled me closer, his hooded stare causing my skin to burn as if I was splashed with acid. His hot breath slicked my face as he reached for something, my dull limbs humming to life as I attempted to fight back, my nails dully scratching into the skin of his hand.

"I'm not as stupid as your family though."

Say something Eleanor- what are you doing? While his hand fumbled for something in his pocket, my tired body finally hummed back to life. I need to calm him down. I parted my chapped lips to start begging weakly, my throat burning as I struggled to breathe.

"Wh-"

Cold.

//Cold-//

My hands fell to my stomach as he leaned back, the silver glint of a knife tinted with a sickly pink casing. My palm pressed against my own warm blood, my eyes glued to the light on the thin blade-- measuring the bitter length, the agonizing pain which felt more like it maimed the entire lower half of my body. <<So it's happening even sooner than I thought.>>

"Miss!" Vince tumbled in and dragged Boran out, my own faint question answered. Why wasn't Vince at the door? Yet, perhaps in irony, Vince closed the door behind him as I stood here, the blood sopping my black dress, though it was covered by my shawl. My own mind felt blank, my body frozen in place. Did my heart beating normally hurt? So this was it. Dying here?

I drew my bloodied palm up to my face, the glossy maroon tickling my skin.

Though I deserve to die, why do I so desperately want to live, even now?

The sounds of Boran still slithered from underneath the door, my body automatically looking through the pit window as I weakly climbed the piano while grabbing my side. Against the wooden slate of the stage, my bloodied hands slipped loosely as I attempted to pull myself up.

"Hhng," the groan accompanied a thin slick of blood rising up my throat, the taste salty and acidic. With a last push of energy, I dragged myself onto the stage, my wet hands growing too shaky to use as I laid down against the smooth wood of the stage while the bright lights blinded me from the rest of the world. A pitiful grin painted my lips as I stared up, my clothes wet and wintry- the air against the stab a constant deep, scalding throb.

"Hng," Just, a little longer? The blood in my throat rose to the entrance of my teeth, my chest stammering pathetically. Ironically, I wanted to live longer for <them>, even if it meant suffering. It was my payment for what I've done, all while also fulfilling my mother's last wish.

<<If there's an afterlife, will I get to see my family again?>>

"koff koff-" I sucked in a breath as deep as I could, resigned. This isn't so bad, hahh... This is...

"Only actors are supposed to die on a stage," the own humming of my throat as I spoke was uncomfortable, my lungs tight as my own limbs sank more into phantoms rather than material.

"At least... I'm dying in my favorite place," I sighed, some of the tension alleviating the cinch across my windpipe. For a few more short inhales, the silence was too deafening- how could my death be so miniscule? The flimsy anger from before scrunched my stiff face as I moved my hand back over the wound, my right leg stiff as I tried to move.

"I fucking... Hate... Cahh..." The taste of blood swelled once more, gushing through my teeth and dripping across my face. Was this my body's way of repeating what my mother told me those years ago? I could picture her lecturing me even now about my words and what their bent meanings would do to my character, as if a single word could turn me into a heretical pirate.

Blaming the Estettes was a double-sided blade, but in this moment, I decided to trick myself that this was all completely and entirely their fault. I didn't even get to finish what I was saying before- this would finally be my chance to tell the truth. Just one, glorious, bloody truth.

"Don't feel too bad for me, because..." <<I'm a murderer too.>>

The faint humming in my throat broke, the words and sounds unable to come out. For a moment, I couldn't tell if I was closing my eyes or if I wasn't-- I couldn't tell if I was breathing or suffocating. The taste of blood was gone now-- all that that was left was some sweet twinge; floral almost.

It was pleasant; a micro-second of connotation which caused flowers to bloom behind my eyes and faded memories to whisper. My own thoughts couldn't articulate themselves, but it was peaceful enough for everything to sink away- yet...

I was here. Blackness, nothingness. Not freezing nor boiling, waiting.

"...sfs..." It was faint- distant. Even forming full thoughts fell back to oblivion, but something within me laid back down in my memories, blissful.

<<"You remind me of a fairy, Eleanor." His little smile was so bright, that I was sure all the flowers of the garden were leaning towards him instead of the sun. And this feeling- this light feeling which makes it so I can't stop smiling- it's been years since I've felt that.

"A fairy? Why is that?"

"Because..."

"Because you promised you'd be with me forever, and that means you can't ever die.">>