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I HAVE BURNED MY TOMORROWS, AND I STAND INSIDE TODAY
At the edge of the future, and my dreams all fade away
Ophelia tried so hard to keep up her walls – to appear strong, but she just was not. Second by second, her energy drained, failure creeping up with familiar fingers to grasp her by the fetlocks and pull her asunder. If this was not proof enough for Torleik, what would be? She broke everything she touched – everyone she loved. Why? Because she was broken, and the only way she could possibly see through the cracks of her own soul was to etch them into another. Not intentionally. Her score marks came from desperate, clawing fingernails as she cried out for love and affection. As they turned away, she gripped too tightly, damaging as they abandoned her again.
The pale princess listened, resignation in every, ugly streak of saline that crawled pathetically down her alabaster cheeks. Roskuld did not back away, did not back down. Her voice grew louder, yelling and demanding truths from Ophelia that she could barely admit to herself. Words were thrown in her face, her own words in times when ‘I love you’ sounded cliché and foolish. The pale princess shook her head slowly, frowning deeply and trying to breathe, but tears seemed to gather in her lungs.
A dangerous tone, a loaded gun, aimed at her heart, and Roskuld pulled the trigger. Ophelia felt a heartstring snap beneath the weight, a fissure in an already wretched cavern, and she remembered everything, clear as day. Except one memory. Just one. One the Sun God had refused to return. Should she continue to keep this secret? Save Roskuld from the truth and bear the brunt of her anger knowing that she did the right thing? Or was the right thing just a fantasy? Everything was a shade of gray now, some fucked up, convoluted amalgam of shit she had to choose from, and she took a hesitant step back.
If anyone else spoke, she did not hear. If rain were to fall, she could not feel. A long silence expanded through time, and she blinked roughly, lips opening and closing dumbly as she tried to think of how to tell Roskuld the truth. “I want you, Roskuld,” she said, a fissure on her heart gaining a new crack. “I thought… I didn't… I did not tell you, not because you were a child, but because it hurts,” she groaned, a bitter smile crossing her lips. “The Sun God gave me a mission… and he removed my memories… all of them. I did not remember Ktulu. I barely knew who I was. Maybe… maybe for the first time I was happy. I don’t… He thought he was doing me a favor, taking away my pain, but…” she shook her head. “I was not… me… We are not ourselves without the culmination of our past.”
“I hurt so many by not remembering their names and faces. I nearly got myself killed. So, I returned to the God of the Sun to restore my memories.” Reliving this moment was horrible, and she hung her head in shame, staring at her cloven hooves. “He returned all but one and did not tell me. Then he abandoned me there on the rock, promising to never see me again – that he was disappointed that I returned a gift he so graciously gave. Maybe… maybe I was…” Ophelia frowned and could not meet Roskuld’s eyes knowing the next words to come out of her mouth, and her breathing hitched again.
“I returned home to find I was pregnant. I had no memory of this. Did I… was….” Ophelia stammered, the weight of her emotion clogging her words. “The Time God knew. He knew… He knew I was not myself, and he took… advantage of that fact, and the Sun God did not return the memory. I still don’t know…” The pale princess shook her head, not bothering to hide her tears anymore. A cold wind rustled her mane, unnoticed, and she sank into her pool of despair.
“I avoided him and avoided telling you because if he can use me like that, what would he do to you? What would he put you through? What hell would he make you face knowing that you were just another tool for him to use? I couldn’t…” Anger rose like bile in her throat, a corrosive acid that coated her tongue. “I couldn’t let him do that to you. It’s why I told you that you can make your own choices. You can say no. You… you have more power than I could ever have – the opportunities I did not. Don’t… don’t let him use you.” Ophelia chanced a glance up at her daughter, stomach flopping in her gut. She felt nauseous.
“I love you, but I don’t know how. And… and if I had to experience that all again, just for you, I would. You are… perfect,” she whispered, eyes earnest. “I… I… don’t know how to love, Roskuld, but I tried and I failed you.” Ophelia turned her head, swallowing hard. “You deserve better than myself. I have failed you, so completely. I am… I am sorry.”
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[O] Home is where the...the...oh hell, nevermind
