A Pain that Can't Be Solved.
Cried because she was a fool. Cried because she was an idiot. Stupid. Pathetic. Moronic. How could she live? How could she live with all of this? It was just... so...so... pointless.
The princess was obviously better. Perfect heir to the throne, and yet so much like her. Empty. Torn apart. Defiant. Deep inside, Yvette wanted her to suffer, but she wanted herself to suffer more. She wanted terrible things, such terrible things. Such terrible things...
It hurt. She hated herself for what she wanted. Every time she wished something fowl upon someone else, it happened. Just being a little prick... just a little prick... that's all she wants. A little bit of blood never hurt, or so she reasoned. She shivered. It was too much... too much! She could feel her heart begin to slow.
She had a problem. A huge problem. There's too much weight on her bones... too much weight... she's down. The ground feels like hard rock. So desperate for escape... that the lamp had to suffer. The room lit with a white ghostly magic, the magic of Margarette, slowly dissipating. Even in the dimmest of lighting, the covers of her bed are such a mess. And she's a mess. Why did she decide to stay here? When she knew it would hurt, hurt to see her again? There’s nothing left. Everything she once had, had been taken away from her. Everything that kept her away… kept her here.
I want to let go. Her brain thinks. I want to know what it’s like to fall asleep...
The time in the dark haunts her. She cries. She wails. It doesn’t matter. It doesn’t matter at all. And the pain, it intoxicates her. It’s fun... She thinks. Being on the edge at all times...
Was it really? If it were fun, it was sickeningly so. Being hated... playing mind games... when really, inside she just wants it to stop. But she can’t help it. It’s addicting. How could she not feel this way? It’s been like this her whole life… empty, pointless – the perfect sob story. She didn’t want any pity. The end. That’s all she wants. The end…
Stupid. Pathetic. Moronic - A fool. Insults always came towards her. Did it really matter though? Maybe she was those things... maybe... maybe she really should disappear. No one would bother to miss her.
There is no way... Her mind thinks. Just let me sleep forever...
Her fingers touch blood as she bleeds, and she cries... she cries, she cries. There’s a sound of shuffling feet. Did Estelle hear the sound of the lamp crashing? Or her pitiful cries of pain? Would her fiancée find her instead? Or did her wimpy cousin Arvilla finally get that she wants the end? Or did Meyhra finally see her crack? Or maybe… just maybe… did Marcilyn finally care about her?
She falls. She cannot breathe anymore. It’s too much, to breath. Too much to live.
Marcilyn… I… I love you… The thought rings. It’s so stupid, she tosses it aside instantly. Marcilyn doesn’t love me. She’ll never love me.
The door slammed open.
Poor innocent Estelle goes white in the face. She’s unphased, and yet so shocked. Yvette, Yvette, Yvette she cries. Yvette, Yvette, Yvette. Wake up! But the model doesn’t stir. She doesn’t care. She just wants to sleep...
She lays in the ground, back turned, her legs exposed, her scars known. Why does she always wear long skirts? She wants to hide it; she knows... the pain she feels every day.
Estelle wrestles for her tool - the shard of glass. It’s an easy war, this fight. She grabs it, and pulls it aside. Yvette, Yvette, Yvette. She says. Yvette, Yvette, Yvette. Please wake up, Yvette. Why must you do this to yourself, Yvette? Why didn’t you tell me, Yvette? Why didn’t you tell anyone?
Yvette stirs. Her senses come back to her. Yvette, Yvette! Estelle still calls out, but it’s faint. You’re my cousin, Yvette. You’re like family to me, Yvette. Why did you hide it, Yvette? I’m in pain too, Yvette. Why didn’t you see that, Yvette? Did you just assume that I’d hate you too? Did you assume I wanted you dead? I’m not like that Yvette... Yvette... Yvette... please wake up Yvette... I love you Yvette. I love you, even if no one else will. Please wake up, Yvette. I need you Yvette. Yvette, this is not the end...
Reality hits her. Estelle sits there, hastily bandaging her up. Yvette... Yvette... this is not the end, Yvette. This is not. I will save you, no matter what it takes. Please Yvette, please wake up... I can’t stand to lose you.
Something happens. A magical essence appears out of Estelle’s fingertips, something so rare, so wondrous... Yvette feels a powerful energy sour through her. Estelle cries, she cries... and as she does, the magic spreads. Yvette takes a deep breath, reality hitting her. Estelle... had healed her. Unknowingly so, she had healed her wounds.
She doesn’t take notice, and continues to cry. But Yvette opens her eyes. Estelle’s leaning over her, gripping her tightly. Strangely, she feels relaxed. Yvette... please don’t die on me Yvette! She says. Please don’t die. I’ll do anything... anything to let you live...
“E...Estelle...” Her voice groans. Blood still trails upon her finger tips, but the wounds are closed. Estelle tightly embraces her, so wrapped up in fear that she nearly forgets that she spoke.
“God, Yvette... God... I... I... I thought you were really gone,” Estelle said. “Why would you do this to yourself? I know... I know what it’s like to feel hopeless, don’t you know? It’s not a good place to be... but Yvette...” She began to choke up, nearly too troubled to speak. “Yvette... I didn’t realize you felt this way... I didn’t realize your pain. I always thought you were cold... but I never realized... I never realized what pain you felt.”
Yvette stayed silent for a moment, as Estelle helped her up.
“There’s more to life than this, Yvette. Believe me, I would know...” Estelle told her, touching her forehead. As if finally containing herself, she sniffles for the last time, and stops. “You’re horrendously fevered. You need bed rest, and some warm milk. But... those scars... did I do something to you? They’re gone... like it never happened. Did I... heal you? Did I really heal you, Yvette? It must be so... that’s never happened before. I’ve never healed anyone before. I don’t think I could do it again...”
She held Yvette up.
“I’ll have the servants fetch a warm cloth. I’m not going to leave you, Yvette... I’m not going to leave you... I’ll never leave you. I’m going to take care of you... even if no one else will. Because I love you... and you’re family to me, you know?”
“Estelle...” Yvette croaked. “Please, just don’t... it’s not worth it...”
“No. It is worth it, Yvette. It’s worth it, because you’re family. And I don’t care what everyone else says about you... I know the truth. I know what you really feel inside. You feel anguish... you feel misery. You hate yourself -because you know what you’re doing is wrong, am I right?”
Yvette stayed silent. She knew it to be the truth.
“Yvette, I’ve been there. My whole family - I’ve never been on good relations with them either. Not even Vincent, not even Hyen sometimes. My mother hates me, you know? She hates me... she can’t stand me. I know what she does to my father, and it isn’t right. But Yvette... I’ve never let that stop me from fighting back. From being good to other people. From being good to myself. No matter how much pain you’re in, you need to fight it. And I know you can. If I can do it, anyone can...”
Yvette began to feel tears wallow up in her eyes. She sniffled.
“I’m a mess...” The model stated. “How can you love such an ugly thing? How can you forgive me for what I’ve done?”
“Sometimes in life, we need to forgive, and appreciate who we are. And you are in a very deep hole, Yvette. I see it every day. I might only be fourteen years old - and you’re practically seventeen - but I’m no child by heart. I’ve seen it all... and, Yvette - you are not the worst person in my life. My mother is more horrible than any of us, she feels no remorse for what she does. If you really think you’re not worth it... think again. I know you’re more than that, and I see it in your eyes. You want out of this hole, I know it. I will take you out of it, even if it means dragging hell with me.”
“I don’t... I don’t understand what you see...” Yvette said. She began to slightly tear up again, and sniffled. “Dammit... I’m crying. Oh, how can you see what you see? And live what you live? When I know you’re far better than me... when I know, deep inside... I’m a caged bird, who can’t ever break free. I want to feel no remorse... but I... I don’t know what I want. I never have, even as a child... and... I’m a terrible person, Estelle. A terrible person... I don’t deserve your pity.”
“Yvette...” Estelle said, softly placing her arms around her. “You’re not alone, okay? I’ve questioned myself many times. I’m not pitying you, for god’s sake - pitying is for fools. I’m understanding you. Maybe I haven’t physically done anything to myself, but that doesn’t mean I haven’t hurt inside. Please Yvette... you’ve done stupid things, but you’re not as awful as you think you are. You want to know awful? The revolution - that’s awful. Margarette - even more so. Drethathon’s ruler? Oh even more so. Don’t beat yourself up over something that’s not even true.” She paused for a moment, as if collecting herself. “You see that couch over there?” Estelle asked, pointing to a black leather couch. “Even if you’re a full foot taller than me, I’m going to drag you to it. And I’m going to bring you water, food, everything you could possible need - until you get your strength back. I’ve healed you, but I’ve only closed the wounds. Your strength is still very weak. I’m going to take care of you, even if you don’t want it. And you will never touch another blade again, and you will never hurt like this again. I don’t care what Marcilyn says about you. I really don’t. I know the truth. You can tell me you’re incurable, but you’re not. You know why? Because I thought like that, and that’s a dangerous place to be.”
Yvette was silent as the fourteen-year-old princess picked her up by her hands, and dragged her to the couch to lay her down. Estelle placed a couple blankets on her, and a comfortable silk pillow.
“Why... are you doing all this for me?” Yvette asked. “Couldn’t you see that I clearly wanted to die?”
“We have to keep on living,” The princess told her. “Even if things are tough. Even if you feel like dying, or giving up. No matter how much pain you feel, someone will be there for you - don’t you know? There is at least one person in the world, who will care for you more than anything. That someone right now, is me. I care about you, Yvette. Even if you don’t care about yourself. I care, because I know that in my heart, it’s the right thing to do.”
‘Then I guess... maybe there is a point,” Yvette said. “I don’t understand it now, and possibly never will - but I need help. I need so much help... I feel too much pain over the loss of my relationship with Marcilyn... and... it secretly hurts me so much; you know? Because she doesn’t care about me. She doesn’t care what happens to me... she doesn’t understand the pain I go through every day, like you do... and I don’t understand why you must steal her from me... but I guess, that is destiny - cold destiny clearly mocking me...”
“You ache... you hurt about many things,” Estelle said. “But there are many girls out there, Yvette. You must learn to let go of her, because she’s clearly causing you a lot of pain. Marcilyn is not a bad person... but... you’re not that terrible either. People make mistakes - it’s human. But you must understand, that Marcilyn has lived a different life, and she’s lived her own pains.”
“Then I guess... I guess you’re right...” Yvette told her. “You know, you’re nothing like I thought you were. I’ve always imagined you to be so selfish... so full of yourself. That you were perfect at everything, and flaunted it without care. I held a large grudge... because I hated myself. Because I was supposed to be the next queen, and you took that role.”
“Believe me, I don’t want that role,” Estelle told her. “But that doesn’t mean that you have to hate yourself. You’ve held up so many emotions inside... I can tell, because I’ve done the same in the past. But I’ve learned to let it out every once in a while. It’s okay to be emotional, even if everyone else is a bunch of stiff logs. Because if you are yourself, you will be loved. Truthfully loved - even if it’s just by one person.”
“I... I can’t say I’m happy, but I feel... something I haven’t felt for a long time,” Yvette confessed. “A little warm feeling in my heart. A feeling I’ve only gotten, long ago... even before I met Marcilyn...”
“That feeling? It’s joy,” Estelle said. “You’ve never allowed yourself to feel it. When you feed yourself lies over and over again, hate overcomes joy. But you know what, Yvette? You should feel joy. Anyone should - it’s a beautiful feeling.”
“I don’t deserve joy…” Yvette told her. “Nobody ever told me I should.”
“I’m telling you now – you do. You know why? Because when I thought like that, I made bad decisions.” She softly felt her forehead again, her hand warm against her coldness. “Now… rest your head, and close your eyes. I want you to remember, what it’s like to smile. What it’s like to be happy... so that you can live a fuller life. And I will be here. And I will be here, even if you don’t want me to. Even if you don’t want me to smile. Even if you hate my guts.”
“I... I don’t hate you Estelle...” Yvette whispered, closing her eyes. It was so peaceful... so serene. Was it the truth? Yes... yes it was.
“Please, take care of yourself...” Estelle told her, slowly placing the blanket over her body. Yvette slowly became more comfortable, sinking into the covers. Was this okay? Really okay? Yes… yes… it was.
A warm feeling came over her as she closed her eyes. Estelle leaned over her, touching her shoulder, with a sad smile on her face. “I am here for you. Always.”