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Memento Mori.
Remember that you will die. That death is coming for you.
“I remember falling.”
“Is that all?”
Maggie shut her eyes. “No.”
The stone crenellations on the balcony dug into her palms. She could feel the grit as the edges of the blocks jabbed into the cuts on her hands. She had been running away from someone. Standing on the edge, she turned to look in horror at the man who had been chasing her. Dark robes swirled around him. Only his silhouette was visible, cut out against the firelight of the torches behind him.
He reached for her.
She let herself fall backward into the darkness.
Indigo wool fabric whipped in the wind as the world rushed past her. Someone screamed her name, but it was too late. Hewn stone walls of the castle exterior turned to rough, jagged cliffs.
Then…all movement stopped.
Her ribcage collapsed.
Her lungs flooded with blood.
Her skull cracked.
She died.
She cringed.The memory of the pain of the impact crashed over her. She could feel the snap of her spine. She could feel the split in her skull. She could feel herself bleeding out. It was like an egg that had fallen from a counter and hit the tile floor. Cracked and splintered and oozing out from the fractures. A fragile and delicate thing that was never to be mended.
She remembered staring up at the starry night sky and the thin white clouds overhead, wondering if she would become a cloud when she died.
And death was right on the horizon for her.
“I remember falling to my death.”
Silence. She shuddered.
It had felt so real.
The quiet scratch of a pen on a piece of paper. “Is that where it ends?”
She hesitated, picking at the cuff of her oversized hoodie. It was emblazed with two skeletons and read “Lurk, Laugh, Loathe,” in distressed font. There was a loose string at the edge of the fabric, and she twisted it around her fingers and under the nail, enjoying the way it bit into her skin.
“Marguerite?”
It didn’t matter how many appointments she went to. It didn’t matter how obvious the symptoms were. The shame was always fresh and raw every time she wound up in this situation.
Maggie bounced her leg.
She really didn’t like being reminded of the fact that she was insane.
Taking in a deep breath, she held it, and buried in the long exhale, she finally replied. “No.”
“Please continue.”
Staring down into her lap, she hesitated for a moment. But what was the point in hiding? That was why she was here. That was why the court ordered her to be here. Either she went to these little sessions and kept getting reminded of her condition, or the checks stopped coming. And the checks were important.
