Ruin Maketh Me

100 - I love my mum, I really do

My mind rings in silence like the fading sound within the hall. This is a voice I cannot put words to. It blazes, up, up, licking the heavens with its fire, and yet, they're nothing but a series of words pieced together at medium pace and medium volume. I turn, straining against the hands holding me fast. Where is she? Where is this voice echoing from?
A brilliant flash of white and gold erupts from the left, but before my eyes crash together tightly, I catch a glimpse of the small, dark figure bathing within the light.
"Stand down." The Emperor says without interest or the slightest piece of undulating emotion, "Let them watch."
The glare dies down, and a series of footsteps thump against the wooden floor, closer and closer. The first one is light, so light, I wonder if only the tips of their feet are pressing against the solid ground, the second - moderated, cinched, ordered to the exact measurement, the third, the fourth... their heaviness and acoustics are ones that I know well.
I force my eyes open against the dancing white circling the edges of my vision. The long, trailing black hair, the fine silken gold, two sides of a coin, both cold in the arch of their brow and the bite of their lips. Julius, Eirwen! I stretch upwards and forwards, but I screw my jaw tightly together, and their names don't pass my lips.
Our gazes meet, and both coldnesses masking their faces slip an inch. The intensity of Julius's red eyes stay the same grating, heart chilling bloodiness, but through it all, the colour seems so easily shattered, one touch and it'll fly away. And Eirwen, god, Eirwen, you look like you want to burn the entire Academy down.
     Their stares stick, and they have to tear their eyes away. My fingers tremble behind my back. The rush of relief and sweet warmth does not come. Thank you, thank you for coming, but I didn't want you to be here! I don't want you to witness the herald of my death! I don't want you to see the fractured second where I disintegrate completely, never to come back.
     I'd rather be alone.
     But I'm scared, I'm scared too.
     I suck in a breath and hold it.
     "Well?" The soft voice trails through the buzzing air.
     I follow the satin syllables to a small woman staring at me. I flinch. Her stature is small, but her stance is no less powerful than the emperor, the firm straightness of her legs command to be seen, and the supple rigidity of her back sends a thrum through the pit of my stomach. But it's her eyes, her eyes, the black slipping pit that bears into mine although she doesn't seem to be talking to me - they dig a hole through me until every sinking thought in my head leaks out onto the floor.
     The look in her eyes ruins me, and it's a familiar ruin. I think I recognise them, but, there's something missing, there's something that I'm expecting but can't find. Where is it? Discomfort boils under my skin with the rising heat.
     "Humans were better behaved under your father, Ludwig." A strong shoulder soars above the woman's.
     Had there always been someone there?
     Pooling black hair with a streak of incongruent white tearing through a strand falling across his face, high nose, eyes that burn red like Julius, perhaps even bloodier, and old, he's old even though he looks only middle aged with his invasively handsome face. I flash between Julius and this man. The eyes, the thin lips, yes, they're almost exactly the same. A spark weasels through my heart, and I stare into the couple. The woman, yes, I can see the resemblance with the one in Sol's dreams.
     The Otherworlder and the Lord Mal, they really did come.
     And because of her, because of her, Ralphus shunned me! Because of her, I was thrown away!
     "We're in the middle of a trial." The emperor says, eyes flashing, voice rising louder.
     A crackle fills the space, and the Lord Mal smiles faintly, eyes glowing dangerously.
     "Let the trial carry on," The Otherworlder interrupts, "But, this man is under my protection."
    "Regardless of whether he's under your protection or not, he will be punished accordingly if he is found to be an Otherworlder." The Emperor leans back in his throne.
     "Oh? And how are you going to prove that he's an Otherworlder?" She smiles deceptively.
     Tessia leaps forwards, white frock billowing backwards, but before her drowning voice flies through her mouth, a tall man barrels across the stage.
     "Witch, of course you'd defend this Otherworlder heretic."
     The deep, dissonant voice strikes a chord inside me—
Black hair, sharp green, hate, hate, hate, run away, get away, can't stand any of this, need shelter, somewhere, someone, father, get away—
     I gasp, air rushing in and out, the vision of the same man with greying hair and those piercing green eyes blurring against the madder brown. Father. No, not my father, not my father, Elijah's. How dare he! How fucking dare he stand here!
     "Witch?" The Otherworlder's smile fades, and an expression of horrid amusement sets her features, "What do you mean by witch?"
     The man raises an eyebrow, "Well aren't you a witch? You've taken the body of that poor woman, you've slaughtered her soul, you've turned against Uhyls, what right do you have, a corpse from another world to replace and enjoy our society? We let you, we let you! And in return,  you antagonise us with your strange powers. Just like that man," He points at me, gaze tearing the foreign parts of my heart into shreds, "How dare you take my son's body! How dare you taint it with your dirty soul. And even worse, you grievously injure Declan du Sel wearing the image of my son. Make no mistake, you shall be punished, and no power can save you, no even the gods of your world!" He breathes deep and savage, moustached lips shaking as he clenches his jaws together, gold silver light building under his hands.
     All I can hear is the roaring sea howling in my ears, pumping in my veins and arteries. Me? I'm not the criminal. I never was the criminal! What have I done wrong? Is wanting to live wrong? Is wanting to be happy, WRONG? You were the one who drove your son to death!
     I bend and tear against the people, tear against the chains, tear against every slander ever laid down against me. How dare they? How dare they, again and again, not give me a chance to live? There, and now, here, no stopping, no stopping, like those neon lights, always on and off, on and off, die and die and die and die—
     "Strange powers?!" A ravaging laugh hurls from the woman's mouth, disproportionate to her slight body.
     Laugh, laugh, laugh at their ridiculous justice, laugh! The fever takes me over.
     "Tell me, is this what you call strange power?"
     There is no light, no increasing brightness, the only sign that she's changing is the ripple of substances starting from her feet. Her dainty booted feet warp and lengthen and up, up, the fabric of her being fluctuates - metamorphosis.
     She changes, she grows taller, her hips widen, her waist thickens, her bust grows larger, her shoulders widen, stronger, her skin darkens, her chin juts sharper, and her face, her face...
     HER FACE.
     My vision blurs, and everything goes cold and still. Silence, but there's a ringing in my head, louder, louder, louder, the tolling - no, no, no, no, no, no, this can't be happening.
     "Martha, you didn't have to put in such an effort for that weasel." He says.
"It's just the way things are, Kid. Martha wasn't a good mother..." He says.
"Martha— He says.
"Martha— He says.
"Mama— He says.
"Mother— He says.
"That woman— He says.
No. No, no, no, I shake my head, this can't be right. She can't be here. A shaky laugh protrudes from my mouth, that's right, I'm seeing things wrong, the paranoia, Ralphus, death, everything's getting to my head, I'm hallucinating again. Yes, that's it, that must be it.
I raise my eyes slowly, the snake devouring my soul. Look, look, look, it's all fake, it's not trueeee, you were free of her a long tiimmmeeee aaaaaggggggooooooo
Curling hair, cruel brows, deep eyes, those lips, the lips, the hands—
She smiles and flicks her lustrous curls behind her broad shoulders, "Have you been a good boy, Ash?" She wiggles her brows comically, red painted lips curving upwards, beautiful, "I got an extra tip today, how about a little reward today hmmm?"
I smile and leap towards her, digging into the flowery tang of her perfume, spirally into me. So warm.
"Oomph." She wraps me in her arms, throwing her purse to the floor, "You've grown a bit bigger haven't you my dear?"
I grin up at her, and take her faux fur coat, throwing it over the peg on tiptoes, "See, I've grown taller too!"
Her smile softens, and she strokes the back of my head tenderly, "And more handsome too, my little angel." She nods once, "It's decided, let's get some premium steak! My little angel deserves a reward."
She throws on her coat again, folding me into it alongside her hip, and with a graceful jerk of her hands, she pulls loose my scarf from the wall - it flies through the air, red, a vivid stream - and wraps it around my neck, once, twice, and I'm warm, so warm. So happy.
.
.
.
"I hate you!" She screams.
"Why were you born?" She screams.
"I would've been better off if you weren't here!" She screams.
"You ruined me!" She screams.
"Don't become like your father!" She screams.
She screams and screams and screams and screams and screams and screams and
I ScREaM, "YOU!"
WHY do you always hurt me?
WHY are you doing this to me?
WHY are you here in this place that belongs to me?
WHY do you deserve to be happy?
WHY?