She was lying on the ‘patient’s bed’, observing the seaweed dance in the water currents. She knew it was meant to soothe but it didn’t. It looked like the hair of a dead man moving in the water. She could almost picture the opened, empty eyes of a corpse.The waters seemed to turn red, as if she were bathing in a pool of blood and the vacant gaze became accusatory. Panic overwhelmed her… She had to…
“Deep breath. Take a deep breath.”
Her counselor said breaking her trail of thoughts, which was not necessarily a bad thing.
Still she wasn’t sure why her father insisted she come back to see that witch for her treatment. She was partly responsible after all. She’d given her the tools to… She shook her head.
“I know you must be quite upset.”
Quite upset?! Upset?!! She flashed an angry gaze at the woman. Not that she could do any tongue lashing… The witch’s fault too as it happened. The price had been high, higher than she could have expected: the pain, the silence, the unknowing betrayal. And the knife.
She was not upset; she was sad and empty. She should have died, she should have chosen… Dying would have been better. Instead she kept remembering the pool of warm blood at her feet. She kept seeing how it entered her legs. She couldn’t get rid of it: it was inside her. Instead of being sea foam, she carried a broken heart and a murderer’s guilt for all eternity. She should have let her prince live his love with the woman he thought saved his life.
In response to Mindlovemisery’s Menagerie Tale weaver prompt Rethink/rewrite