In Pieces
© Black Tangled Heart
I descend the steps of the stage, feeling my fragile heart pound inside my
chest. It shatters a little more with each rhythmic pulse, the crystalline
shards falling in scarlet fragments into the hands of the Duke.
He has truly bound me to the Underworld, chaining my flesh to his teeth and
tongue, my soul to his repulsive gifts, my life to a contract, signed by the
man I had come to trust and love like a father: Harold Zidler.
In the rosy twilight, his ruddy face is creased with pain that fills me to the
core. My visage will never reflect torment; ruby lips and alabaster skin will
always glow, cerulean irises will never be clouded with tears. The show must go
on.
My footsteps reverberate off the walls of the hauntingly barren theatre. I must
find strength within my soul. In the face of cruel adversity, I will always
love the boy with blue-grey eyes and naïve charm. If our trembling lips never
meld in a passionate kiss, if his fingers don't tousle my brittle hair ever
again, there will still be our promise. Beneath the lie I am about to pierce
his soul with, there will be the undying truth of our love. He will be saved. Come what may…
I reach the edge of the theatre and pause, breathing deeply, as if to cleanse
my psyche, to wash away my sin. It is a futile, vain attempt that won't last
forever. A diamond is eternal, but human frailty is not.
There is loneliness in Harold's eyes that has never shone through until now. I
stand close to him, but remain untouchable because of the façade I smooth
across my face. It's become second nature to me, but he seems to ache as I
raise my head high, and stare past him, unseeing, to the courtyard.
I do not see the cerise roses and jade thorns. I cannot visualize the darkening
sky above my head. I see only Christian's face.
I am walking away from Harold, who nurtured my broken wings. Now, his words
have sliced them clean from my shoulders, leaving raw blemishes of anguish on
my skin and in my conscience.
"We're creatures of the Underworld, we can't afford to love." His
words are a paradox in my mind. I love Christian with the fierce passion, and
it has given me the world. Despite this beautiful relationship, I am still a
possession in the eyes of an investor. I have loved, I do love, I will love, or
it will cost me my life. His proclamation is a harsh truth that burns me like
fire.
I step away from Harold, severing the last lingering fragments of the bond we'd
shared over so many years, since his rough hands had dried my tears, lifting me
away from the sludge of
I know that somewhere in his heart, he cares for me. He has been like a father
to me, a father who pushes their child into inconceivably tarnished
predicaments. I cannot look back, for if I do, he will see my tears. Try as I
might, I cannot hold them in much longer. They threaten to dance across my
face, shimmering and searing like diamond embers.
Harold was able to see something in me that many others could not: I'm a human
being. I experience joy and sorrow like every other soul that wanders this
Earth. Only in his world, emotions are quickly downtrodden by greed.
Christian does not have francs to offer to me, and that is why his love is
pure, unmarred by a thirst for power. I must see a crestfallen expression and
hear pleading words escape his mouth to know that I have saved him. I must
shelter him from harm the only way I know how.
I am a creature of the Underworld. I will pay the price for love.
The show must go on.