The King’s Priestess

Chapter5

It was the best meal we’d had in years.

I hadn’t seen my grandmother eat like that in so long, her thin fingers gripping the spoon, her jaw working furiously as if she hadn’t eaten in years. She chewed and swallowed with a hunger that broke me inside. She even licked her lips, smacking softly, a sound both tender and sad.

My chest tightened as I watched her. I was happy she was enjoying herself, yes… but the sight also dragged tears to my eyes. Because deep down I knew the truth, I was trying, but whatever I was doing wasn’t nearly enough. Feeding her scraps, stretching food into something resembling meals, convincing myself it would be fine… it wasn’t.

She deserved better.

My mind, against my will, wandered off to my mother. That selfish brat. That woman who thought of herself alone, who ran off and left me in this mess. She left me to face the hunger, the bills, the nightmares, the drunken monster who called himself my father.

I looked back at my grandmother, still bent over her plate, and sighed a heavy sigh that came from the pit of my stomach.

After a while, I cleared the dishes quietly, stacking them in the sink like glass too fragile to touch. Then I retired to my room, but the walls pressed too close and the air in my chest grew tight. Restless. Like something unseen had tied strings around my lungs.

My eyes drifted toward the black book on the table. My bloom. My escape. But I didn’t feel like picking it up, not tonight. Still, when I crossed the room, my steps betrayed me. It felt like my body was moving against my will, like invisible fingers were pulling me toward it.

I reached out. My hand hovered over the cover. Just one more page, I told myself. Just one more dream to run into.

But before I could open it, a scream tore through the night.

My grandmother’s scream.

I knew it instantly. It was the kind of sound you never forget, sharp and quivering, coated with terror.

“Grandma!” I bolted, my legs carrying me before my mind even caught up.

I rushed down the narrow hallway, my bare feet slapping the wooden floor, until I reached her room. My breath caught.

He was there.

My father.

His shadow filled the doorway, and in the dim light I could see him standing over her bed, staring at her like she was prey. My grandmother had curled up against the wall, her small frame trembling, her lips moving in silent prayers.

Rage, fear, and something undescribable surged inside me. I lunged forward, shoved him with all the strength my body had left, pushing him out of her room. My palms burned where they met his chest.

“What do you want?!” I spat, my voice breaking. “Why do you keep coming back here? What do you want from us?”

The words poured out too fast, tumbling over one another. My breaths shortened until I felt like I was drowning in my own panic.

He looked at me then, and his mouth curled into something between a smirk and a sneer. His eyes were bloodshot, unfocused.

“That’s no way to talk to your father,” he slurred. He staggered a little, then stretched his hand out toward me. Instinctively, I flinched, bracing for the invisible force that usually dragged me to the floor. But nothing came.

“I want you to leave!” My voice cracked. “I want you gone!”

“You dare talk to me in that manner?” His face twisted, veins bulging in his neck. He leaned in close enough that I smelled the alcohol on his breath…sharp, sour, suffocating. “You idiot.”

He took a step toward me. My blood froze, fear clamping down on my bones.

“I’m… I’m not asking you for anything,” I whispered, my voice trembling as I tried to hold his gaze. “Just… just please, leave us alone.”

“Not until you tell me where your mother is.” His words came like blades, slow and deliberate. With every syllable, he stepped closer.

“I told you!” My chest heaved. “I don’t know where she is!” The scream tore itself from me.

The slap came fast. A crack echoed in the room and my face exploded in heat and pain. My body stumbled, then hit the floor hard, my elbow screaming as it struck the boards.

Tears stung my eyes. My breaths grew shallow, jagged. My chest tightened like iron bands had wrapped around me. I clawed at the air, desperate for breath, but it wouldn’t come. Panic swallowed me whole.

Through the blur of my vision, I saw him bend down. His hand fisted into my hair, yanking my head back until I cried out. His face hovered above mine, his eyes wild.

“The next time I come here,” he growled, “you’d better have an answer for me. Or else…” He let the words hang, heavy and sharp. “I’ll do worse than this.”

My eyes squeezed shut. In that moment, I wished for anything, anyone, to save me.

He released me with a violent shove and stormed out, his boots pounding the hallway until the door slammed.

The silence afterward was unbearable.

I crumpled, my body shaking, sobs tearing through my throat as I cried into the floor. The panic pressed harder, but I didn’t care. I let it all spill out, the fear, the anger, the helplessness.

Beside me lay the black book, as if it had been waiting.

“What sort of life is this?” I shouted, my voice raw, hoarse. I grabbed the book, shaking it. “Why do I have to be born and suffer? What’s wrong with me? Why can’t I have a fairy tale life like the ones inside you?”

The book sat heavy in my lap, silent.

“I wish…” My hands trembled. “I just wish I had a life like that. That I was in there, not in this cursed world!”

Almost instantly, the book trembled under my palms. The cover shivered, then opened by itself.

A light burst out, blinding and white, spilling across the room like water flooding in. The pages turned on their own, faster and faster, until the words lifted off them in glowing streams.

A wind rose, sharp and violent, rattling the windows, scattering papers, tugging at my clothes. It howled around me, pulling, dragging, insistent.

“No…” I grabbed the edge of the bed, but my grip slipped. “Grandma!!” I screamed, voice shredding as the wind roared louder. “Help!”

But no answer came, only the sound of the storm inside the room.

My fingers tore free from the bedframe. The pull grew stronger, dragging me forward, my hair whipping around my face.

The last thing I saw was my grandmother’s door swinging open down the hall, her small figure emerging in confusion. Then the book swallowed me whole.

I fell into darkness.