Page 64 of Below the Shadow of the City

He brushes a finger down my cheek, his claw barely grazes the flushed skin. His soft warm fingertip contrasting with the sharp cold point sends a spark of exhilaration down my spine. Through fumbling fingers I place my hand against his chest, his heartbeat thrums through his fur.

“Maddox,” I whisper with a trembling voice. “I want every minute to feel just as good as this does. After seeing Perrie, and remembering what I lost, you might be the greatest thing that's happened to me. I don’t know if I deserve you, or what you’ve given me, or your patience, but I want more of whatever this is.”

He wraps himself around me, his arm lazily hangs over my shoulder. I cozy up into his broad chest until I’m fully encased by him. He lets out a few chuckles, his body shakes up and down with rumbling laughter.

“What,” I say through damp eyes, “why are you laughing?” Maddox’s wide blue eyes narrow.

“Because every single thing you said I’ve already known,” he speaks with a low rasp.

CHAPTER 26

FRIDAY, MID NOVEMBER

On a random night I dream of a young maiden trapped in a castle by a ferocious beast. The ingénue is doe eyed and terrified, pacing the stone floors of the bedroom that serves as her prison cell. Dressed in all white, dark strands of hair tied up neatly in a ribbon, she’s a perfect example of innocence and purity.

She’s a village girl who doesn’t know how she’s found herself in such a predicament. Her large brown eyes widen as she thinks of the creature that lurks beneath, awful and terrifying and in direct opposition to all things pure and wonderful. She hasn’t yet resigned herself to this permanent prison. She’s headstrong and believes that she may find her way out, somehow. It’s a classic tale, one could even say as old as time.

As the scene plays out during my REM sleep, I’m watching this sequence from above, floating in the corner of her room like a ghost. There’s nothing about this girl that I recognize, beyond the obvious parallels to every story I’ve read and movie I’ve seen regarding the original subject matter. She and I are nothing alike, I’m pretty sure if I was locked in a room as she was I’d be little more than apathetic.

Even in this dream state, I’m well aware that Maddox fits the loose description of the creature. Their similarities end at the vague physical attributes. I now scoff at the fact that anyone could call him frightening or terrible, he’s anything but.

Maddox and I subvert the story’s trope entirely, comically so. He’s the patient, gentle, and likable one while I’m the one who’s pacing in my fortress and primed to snap at any moment. I’m the one who was saddled with the curse of being unable to love and be loved, and he, well he has more love to give than he probably knows what to do with.

In the original story of Stockholm Syndrome made sweet, the forced proximity brings the two together. She falls in love with him despite his appearances, and he shows that even his bristly exterior holds a warm loving heart within. She confesses his love for him, he becomes a handsome prince, and they live happily ever after.

In my dream, the story drastically diverges. I float above the tower she’s locked in and realize that there’s no castle below her, it’s only her and the tall twisted turret. And when she finds an enchanted mirror lying on her vanity, it doesn’t show her the life she left behind.

Instead, she stares at her reflection, blinking and grimacing and watching her visage do the same. It morphs into this monster she’s been taught to fear, something far worse, actually. She shrieks, then stares at the reflection, noticing it mimics each of her movements. Every wink, every flash of her tongue, each motion is parroted back to her.

She has no actual beast to be frightened of, only a monster within. It’s a nasty thing, growling in anger, swiping at expensive upholstery. It’s something so terrible one couldn’t imagine that it could ever be loved. And she’s cursed to carry it with her. It’s always lurking just beneath the surface, scaring off anyone who might get too close to coax it out.

I watch her and see the acceptance of her fate. So long as that inner beast is around, she’ll be trapped in that tower forever.

I wake with a start, needing a minute to reacquaint myself with my surroundings. I’m in my own bed, in my own apartment, alone. I still frantically pat the space next to me as if Maddox will materialize. In the dark cold of my bedroom there’s nothing I crave more than his body besides mine. I want to see his chest rise and fall and watch the rippling of his muscles tucked beneath his fur. The silence is stiff without his heavy breathing to act as white noise. My heartbeat slows. The recency of the dream, no, nightmare, hangs over me.

My subconscious was apparently primed to smack me over the head with a metaphor so direct I’m afraid it was written and directed by a Hollywood studio. Eyes still bleary and brain still foggy, I flip my phone over to check the time.

My own beast had texted me while I’d been unconscious in my tower. Nothing of actual importance, just a link to a video he found amusing a few hours ago. I smile wearily watching the video, picturing myself laughing at it by his side. When I lock my phone again I catch a glimpse of my own reflection.

I have been a cruel, cold monster to Maddox. He didn’t deserve my constant avoidance of any real conversation about our relationship and blasé approach to emotional intimacy. He stayed anyway, doing all he could to coax the creature out of me. Maddox doesn’t need to pry out my honest feelings anymore, we don’t need to have tear-filled exchanges in the laundry room. Because now, at two in the morning on a random Tuesday, I have all the clarity I need.

“I’m fixed!” I nearly throw myself into his apartment when I arrive. He remains in the doorway and rubs his padded palm along his jaw as he tries to understand just what I’m trying to convey.

I step past him and correct myself, “I’m cured, free of the curse, magically saved, whatever the fuck you want to call it.” I shove the bags of groceries for today’s recipe into his arms as I push past him.

“Oh, so all those favors I’ve been calling into other fae have paid off,” he chuckles.

I’ve skipped halfway across his living room when I whip around with confusion, “wait, actually? Fae magic is real?”

“No,” he shakes his head and laughs. “Of course not. I’m glad that you’ve freed yourself of this entirely imaginary curse you claimed to be under.” He grabs my shoulders and pulls me in for a kiss hello, treating this as if it’s any other date and I’m not raving like a lunatic.

“It’s a paradox, Maddox!” I exclaim when our lips part. “A self-fulfilling prophecy. There’s no actual monster, only my own internal feelings keeping me trapped.” I see him quickly point to himself with a questioning look on his face when I say there’s no monster, “I mean no monster in, like, a figurative sense.”

My completely nonsensical mutterings leave him unamused, but he still hints a small smile at me.

“Whatever you say, Sigrid,” he dismissively nods with a laugh before tracking to the kitchen.

“I had a weird dream and I think it fixed everything.” I cross my arms and watch him listen as he pulls a glass from the cabinet and fills it with water.