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Disgust rolls off of me in waves as I slam my fist down on the counter and turn my back to the mirror, unable to look upon my reflection a moment longer.
How could I ever hope that she might see me as anything other than a monster?
What right do I have to want her to?
I am no fool. Try as I might to deny it, I know what these feelings mean for me ... but for her, they would only lead to death.
Guilt weighs heavily on me. I should know better than to want what I cannot have, and yet, I also know that I am selfish.
If I am not careful, I will call her soul home before its time.
Drawing myself up, I inhale deeply, slowly exhaling as I check my emotions.
I have no choice but to force my heart to stop thawing. It must harden itself against these feelings.
Againsther.
Despite how hard it is to ignore the pang of bitter sadness and regret, I remind myself that this is the only way.
I know better than to tempt the Fates and what has been decided for me.
There is no warmth, no happiness for a monster such as me, and I would do well to remember that.
Closing my eyes, I allow myself to draw strength from the darkness, allowing the cold bitterness of life fill me. Finally satisfied that I have drowned any more my foolish thoughts of warmth and love within me, I move toward my wardrobe.
The day is young, and there is much work to be done. Removing my outer layer, I pause as my hand catches on something in the pocket.
Pulling it out, I turn over the small book in the palm of my hand. I had meant to return it to the girl earlier, but the thought had slipped my mind.
Placing it down on a table, I finish changing. My outfit drapes well over my form, heavy chains weighing it down in a display of strength and power.
Selecting a new mask, I let out a sigh before placing it over my face. Now hidden behind a mask, I turn to adjust the final details of my outfit in the mirror, but in doing so, my eyes keep flickering to the book in its reflection.
With a low growl of frustration, I finish pulling on a new pair of leather gloves and reach for it. I stare down at the tiny book for a long moment, contemplating whether or not to leave it here, before finally tucking it inside my pocket.
I will deal with it later.
For now, I must return to the mortal realm.
18
Hazel
The next few days pass in an artistic daze.
I spend just about every minute in my studio, only leaving to grab several of the dishes I’d prepared in the kitchen, and a few blankets.
With Death yet again nowhere to be found, I find myself curling up to sleep in the room, unwilling to leave behind the precious gift he gave me. The second I open my eyes, I’m happily back at the easel painting as I munch on a handful of cake or bread.
Finally, I step back to admire the piece that’s kept me in its hold the past few days.
It’s perfect.
A smile tugs at the corner of my mouth as I clasp my hands together in excitement. Tidying up the studio, I decide that I can’t wait for Death to come to me. Wiping my hands on my skirts, I open the door and leave the studio behind in search for him.
Turning a corner, I catch a glimpse of my reflection in the shine of the walls and whirl on it. Tentatively, I step forward to get a better look. Dried paint is smeared across my face and dress, my hair matted in some places and sticking out wildly in others.
Change of plans. It seems that I am in desperate need of a bath, first.
