Heretic of El Amarna

Chapter 9: Nefertiti

Once Amenhotep left, I felt both empty and hopeful at the same time. Artaxerxes locked me back in after Amenhotep had gone, and I lay on my bed, gazing at the wall I could not see for lack of light.

If only the moon would illuminate it. I could have born the moonlit, white wall, but the darkness at night with no moon was unbearable.

I sobbed in silence then. I loved Amenhotep so much, and I was afraid: afraid of what might happen to him, afraid of what was being done to me, and afraid of the whole outcome. For the first time in my life, I felt entirely helpless and hopeless. I wanted to give up and give in in that moment and die.

At that point, I realized I could not die yet. Amenhotep loved me, and I knew it would break his heart if I stopped fighting and died. That was the only thing keeping me from turning away my food and dying a slow death of starvation. Well, perhaps I would not starve; Thutmose was sure to force the food on me if I tried that ploy, and I knew it would never work anyway.

I lay there on the bed, crying, my heart breaking, no longer caring if the guards heard my wild tears. I wanted to be free. My soul longed for the freedom I had known, and I longed to be free of the room I was enclosed in. Yet, I knew that in order for that to happen, I had to capitulate to Thutmose and all his wishes. That was something I was not ready to do yet, but after the many long days of staring at the same four white walls, I was teetering on the precipice of giving in to him. Only the knowledge that my life would become hell afterwards kept me from throwing myself at his feet and begging him to release me.

A few hours later, Thutmose himself swept in. He saw my red eyes and knew I had been crying. Sitting on the edge of the bed, he gave me a searching look. He scooted closer to me and wrapped an arm around me. For the first time in days, I flinched. I did not want his smooth hands touching me, and I certainly did not want his arm around my shoulder. Anger boiled within me and for the first time in a week, I moved boldly away from him.

“Keep your hands off of me!” I spat at him.

His eyes betrayed his surprise. Clearly, he had believed I had broken in farther than I had. The visit Amenhotep had paid me had strengthened my resolve for now, but I knew it still wavered on the brink of being snuffed out. How much longer I could keep this up, I wondered.

Thutmose’s mouth set in a firm, hard line. “Are we back to this? I thought you were past this, Nefertiti.” He raised an eyebrow in question.

He was obviously irritated with me.

Well good! I hope he dies! I thought irritably.

Then I regretted it. It was dishonest and unkind and more than likely, Ma’at would not like it. Yet somehow, I could not bring myself to apologize to the goddess. Perhaps it was because I truly did hope he would die.

“Back to this?” I hissed. “We were never past it!”

“Really? You were not resisting my touch and my presence yesterday! You seemed to have given up that much ground. I believed we were making progress towards a happier existence for both of us. I dislike this as much as you do, Nefertiti. Despite what you may believe, I do not like doing this to you. It takes a lot of time, and it makes me upset to see you this way.” Thutmose told me.

The fat-bellied liar! I thought, enraged.

“I hate you!” I yelled. “Go away and leave me alone! Please...” The last word was a strangled sob.

I tried to turn away from him; I could not bear for him to see my tears. He put his hands on my arms and kept me from turning away from him. That only made me angrier with him, and I could not hold back the tears of frustration and loneliness. Amenhotep’s visit had intensified the lonliness because after his visit, I had realized just what I was missing locked away here.