Forty-three
She was a smaller version of me. The once hopeful child who would skip out into the wilderness that surrounded the shabby single-wide trailer she called her home. An eight-year-old girl who had lived a daydream for two years of her life while her real life had been nothing but turmoil. But this girl, this small child who stared down at me with all the hatred of an adult four times her age, bore a grin on her face I can only describe as...evil. She was the one who sailed in on that ship with my mother keeping close watch over her. She was the one who stood in the background so I wouldn't see her at the execution. She's the one who murdered our mother in this world because her usefulness had ended. But...why?
"What is going on here?" I asked, mesmerized by what I was seeing.
The mini-me version of Myrtha spoke. "You are surprised? That of all the people in the world, of all the people in your past who tried to hurt you, that you yourself are the vision you see before you? Why, isn't it obvious to you? Who else could have sent a fleet of ships to this land to destroy it? It couldn't have been your mother. She was gone. It couldn't have been your sister. She was too small. It was the one who has been here the whole time, waiting, biding her time. It was the one who shut off your return to this world just so she could decimate it. It was you."
"That's impossible." I shook my head. "I never wanted to harm a single part of this world. It was my escape. It was my everything."
"And when you were taken away from it, it was your regret." She responded. "And when that little girl realized she couldn't get back, she sent me to take over. Look at it this way. You had decided it you couldn't have it, neither could anyone else. That was how deep your love for this place ran. You leveled it rather than allow it to sit stagnant or simply die."
"NOOOO!" I screamed. I could hear voices murmuring now; the faint, worrisome sounds of the student in the gymnasium who were growing fearful of the freak who was talking to herself, but were too engrossed in the scene to run away. "I would NEVER do this to Psitharis! You are LYING!"
"Am I?" My doppelganger asked, carelessly flipping her hair out of her face. "Who else had the ability to wreak havoc on this world other than you? Could any of my other selves reach into your mind from the outside and crush that part of you where this world resides? Could any of my other selves say or do anything so horrible it would send an army to wipe this land out? No, my dear sister. Only you. Only me." As she spoke, Myrtha changed. She began to grow, from the small child standing before me to the girl I was used to seeing in the mirrors in Dream Land. Only, she was different somehow. She wore a gown of glittering rubies, a long collar elongating her ivory neck and a bodice exposing the middle of her chest and torso, barely covering both breasts and sides with yards of shimmering material. Her hair was long and gorgeously styled on her head in flowing masses of curls. She wore make up that made her look years older than the eighteen we both were. She was still me, only she was the me I had always wanted to be but could never manage to accomplish. "And as you can see, dear sister, this version of me is far more enhanced than you could ever be."
The tones of her voice were almost intoxicating and sensual. Her look, her voice, was everything I had ever wanted to be, but years of abuse and torment had beaten it out of me. And I knew in that instant that this person who stood over me, this victor who sought to annihilate me, was the person I truly despised. Donla had been right; this was the person I truly hated and feared the most. She was the person I always wanted to be, except I turned out quite differently. In an instant I was jealous of her, wanted to look like her, be like her. She was a dream always denied me. But at the same time I knew what sort of person she really was. She was the sort of person I would have been if I had been spoiled and pampered by Olivia, if I had joined a hateful, hurtful group like Jennifer's. She was odious, she was spiteful. The curtains of misperception had parted, and I could see clearly for the first time in my life. And for the first moment in my life I was truly glad to be me. Instead of bitter jealousy I found relief. Yes, I had been the one to bring about the downfall of Psitharis; more than likely, when all this was finished, I would have to come to grips with the guilt that threatened to overwhelm me, even in this throne room. But now we had come to it, there was no going back. The supreme sacrifice. One Medora for another.
