Gift From The Alchemist

          I never thought my last day on this earth would be so insignificant. My ego always assumed I would die in action, or on some busy day due to an elaborate scheme, but I had the premonition that now, I could die at any given moment.          Yet, even with that hovering thought, the birds still sang as they always do each morning, and the wind still howled as it was prone each night. And now, the horses transporting me onward were just as fit- entirely lacking in the hesitation that consumed each of my actions. Breathing in and out, twirling a strand of my hair around my finger- even blinking felt as if it was a link to my doom.         One... Two... Three, four... I counted each raindrop as they hesitantly dripped down the carriage door, and imagined the lulling sound of rain battering the roof were the footsteps of fairies dancing. Fairies believed in a term called 'fate'- the idea that you had a destiny which no matter how hard you fought, was bound to happen. Didn't someone teach me that? They said something that made me smile all those years ago... What was it?         "You remind me of a fairy Eleanor..."         Ah... How bittersweet it is now.         My fists coiled together achingly, resentful. Just keep counting... And stop thinking about them.           The shaking of the carriage began to harmonize with my stomach as we neared our destination, and with it that familiar deep pit within me toiled ruthlessly. They're gone now. Everything is going to be over soon...          Because this is my fate.          I had made the decision to call my grim end 'fate' instead of 'doom', though it was a childish comfort and an even weaker imitation of remaining in control.          After pinching my cheeks in an attempt to distract myself, I picked at the delicate lace of my gloves; my puffy eyes mesmerized by the floral pattern which wove down like vines entrapping my arms. If I closed my eyes, I almost felt like I was being suffocated by them; their rope-like grip digging into my dry skin, gracing me with the fresh ache of prune-tinted bruises.         Run little mouse, that ruse-voice taunted. We both know that you deserve this-         "Hah..." I shook my head and forced myself to keep counting- to force that part of me to become mute.          The pressure of my clamped jaw wavered slightly as the sounds of the outside world slowly grew louder. Strangers laughing, drunkards arguing, the homeless begging on the side of the road; with each passing second, the sounds were slowly swallowing me whole.         Between the tight gloves and strung corset, and even sitting in this musky damp carriage, I felt the future hanging a noose around my neck. Perhaps for the worse, I found my mind trying to calm myself with beautiful lies- lies more beautiful than childhood stories about fairies or elvish men. Isn't that how you survive unfortunate experiences? If I trick myself, or delude reality so it is easier to swallow, and if I believe it hard enough, everything will be ok. I can pretend it's all part of an elaborate, beautifully saccharine puzzle.          Something in my chest panged harshly, a gasp ripping through my teeth. Rather than confronting the growing pain soiling my lungs, I instead risked a peek out the small window.         The glass-smudged lights casted gold coins across the cobbled roads which sifted through my own reflection, and the film of rain made everything appear soft and hazy. Bricks and slating having the breath of a tired promise of tomorrow, the wet film of the day was opening the city into the hot clutches of the night. The chipped paint of old advertisements, the broken windows of abandoned shops; somehow, I felt like they suited me. My focus shifted from the scene outside to my callow face, my finger tracing my bitten lips.          "There is always good in life..."        Mumbling it to myself, I watched as the words dripped from my greyish lips and painted the world before my eyes: the boozed breaths, the pink gazes. It was a rehearsed phrase, and it felt foreign upon my tongue. And perhaps it was, because it was what they always used to say, though I now couldn't believe in its validity.         Another drained exhale limped through my lips, resigned. Though I was trying to push the thoughts away, I found my eyes watching the water trickle along the side of the road, the darkness of the night making the water appear as inky as blood. Among the broken bottles on the side of the road, perhaps there was that too; passing, violent murders which get swallowed by the sewer drains as soon as they occur.  If murder is the tongue of a scene where gambling and street work were the eyes, I decided the portrait of the outside world was quite ugly. This city, these people- it's all so extremely hideous.          A hollowness settled in my throat as an unspoken thought batted at my eyes. Though I didn't dare utter it, my mute reflection stared at me knowingly. There's a reason I'm better suited for places like this. There's a reason this part of the city is my safe haven. The silence of the carriage pulsed between my ears, the very beating of my own heart condescending- the footsteps of the rain fairies, the echoing of the horse's gate, the creaking wheels reminding me of the squeals of mice.          "Ahhh... that's what I am." A dry laugh turned my cheek darkly as I turned away from my reflection. Hair like theirs, and empty eyes which looked exactly like his; behind them I saw the answer as clear as day despite the worsening storm outside.          "Gods I just want this all to stop..." Even my own voice reminded me of them, and the pain in my chest grew even more consuming. Where the lack of response used to be a relief, in this moment, it felt like a bitter curse. If I close my eyes and believe hard enough-         A weak chuff escaped from my throat as something wet dripped against the back of my clasped hands.         "Ahh... it looks like the carriage roof is leaking..."         Another lie to make myself feel better.         After a few more minutes passed, and the scenery became more familiar, I cleared my throat and rose my voice to the carriage driver, trying to muster as much authority into my words as I could.         "I'll get out here, thank you."        The carriage lurched to a stop and the step bobbed slightly as I took a walk into the buzzing air, my small purse hidden in my inner coat pocket. The coppery smell of rain mixing with the scent of beer and opium smoke was almost a comforting perfume. Step by step, breath by breath-- weaving through passed-out men and scantily clad women as I wove in and out of the now-familiar alleys. Though in the beginning I had been afraid to walk alone here, especially as a single woman at night; now, it was almost relaxing. Where some find a stroll at a beach or park might ease one's mind, here, it was like walking on clouds.          The broken glass were like fragments of fallen stars, and the bile from the intoxicated sailor was an enchanted potion spilled upon the lay bricks. At any moment, I could fall to a horrible, painful death or stringy assault; yet, it's somehow safer than where I came from. And surprisingly, none of those things had ever happened to me- though I mused it was because I still gave off the air of the person I pretended I wasn't.          Quite a few times, the random drunk would make a remark at me, but I continued further and further away, taking mind to make quick turns to shake off the people my extended family always tries to send in order to monitor me. The echo of my heels striking against the stone pathways became a sort of drum as heat began to pool at the base of my neck.         How much longer can I live like this?          Pulling my thick wool coat tighter around my black cotton dress, I risked a quick glance behind me before heading to where I really planned on going. Nearing closer to my destination, a weight was lifted from my shoulders as the sounds of a crowd exiting a nearby theater swarmed around me.          Ducking into the crowd, I hugged my inner pocket closer to me as I made my way to the back of the theater, the oil lamp above the back door flickering faintly. Warming my hands quickly, I knocked my knuckles against the chipped wood of the door four times, the wet rain beginning to seep into my clothes. Muffled moving and footsteps sounded as someone drew away the peep slot, revealing two bright brown eyes.         "Back again Eleanor? Why do you always come so late at night?" The cold from outside bit at my skin as I looked around anxiously, the back of my neck tense. All this work to come here, and you're making me stand out in the cold?         "Let me inside, and I'll muse telling you."         All that answered was a faint chuckle until the metallic creak of the door rang like a song from Heaven's gates. Before it even opened all the way I poured in, the wet anxiety from outside unable to penetrate me as long as I was here. A heavy sigh mewed from my throat as I felt the tense and fear-tight shackles of stress trickle down to my feet.          Even though we were just in the back hall, the lights hurt my eyes slightly compared to the dark night outside. Tacky wallpaper, gaudy crystal lights; for a scam-structured slum theater, it was pretty decked out.          "Well? The last big group just left. You would get more money if you came earlier, ya know."         Looking up, I had almost forgot that he was still here. Charcoal hair, tall, muscular-- Vince was another sort of door that shielded me from the outside world.          "Well..." I smiled, the warmth in my cheeks returning as faintly as a ghost wanders its grave.          Grave.         The smile melted away for a moment, the aching in my chest dense as it always was. My throat was hollow as I simply pulled out my purse and placed the appropriate amount in his hand. At the silence, we simply walked back to my room, the routine simple and calming. No small talk, no wasting time-- even my actions now were tightly tied to a future I knew I couldn't escape. A future I had no means of escaping. The emptiness in my lungs began to burn, my body a cataclysmic vial of distain. Even my own feelings were constantly haunted by phrases akin to 'what if this is the last thing I ever think?' and 'what if this is the last thing I ever do?'.          Those thoughts quelled slightly at the familiar sight of the wooden door tagged with the number 4. Just touching the doorknob caused my heart to cool and my veins to still. As long as I am here, I am not living in regret. As long as I am here, I am close to being the person that I abandoned all those years ago.         "By the way, here are the tips from last time."         I opened my hand to the 20 luons that he passed to me each time I came, the tip always the exact same. Though I had been saving them in hopes of escaping my 'fate', the lack-bitter taste on my tongue knew it would never be enough.          "How bout... you keep it Vince?" I pressed the money back into his hands, an eerie calmness melting over my skin. I won't need it anyways.          "Are you sure?"         A soft nod jogged my chin.         "Of course, consider it extra payment for protecting my door tonight," I laughed, though it sounded more like a wounded exhale. He shot me a concerned look one last time before kindly accepting it and assuring me he would do just that then.          The soft click of the door closing behind me was all it was took for me to crumble to the ground, my pounding head resting against my knees. With the storm outside muted, the silence did little against the pessimistic thoughts which scurried throughout my mind.          Count Boran, my arranged fiancé. The Estettes- my extended family. After the passing of my immediate family, none of them bother to mask their true intentions. The only blessing I had once hoped to rely on was whatever was left to me from my father's will, but just thinking about the past ripped at my throat. My eyes stung slightly as I struggled to breathe- "It's all your fault-"         No. My old family; it's better if I don't think of them. And though I tried to smoosh down the small voice in me which held hope- the one which begged me to find a way out of this situation, this terrible 'fate', I knew it was like wishing for lighting to strike me where I stood. Even still, I found a little voice in the back of my head mumbling adolescent beliefs like 'there is always a way' and 'to never give up'-- but loudest of all, it said 'I... can still find a way out of this... Right?'.         I roughly rubbed my face and got up, scanning the dim, closet-like room knowing today would be my last time here. In the low ceiling was a pit box, the open square the only source of light. Something in me calmed knowing that perhaps up in the seats in front of the small stage, there may be one or two people waiting to listen to me. A weak chuckle gathered in my throat about what a scam this all was: a performer pays to occupy a pit under a small slot-stage, a listener pays for a ticket, and then the performer receives the tips from the listener as payment. Yet, still knowing that, it never stopped me from coming out as often as I could. And it didn't stop me also paying Vince to stand outside my door just in case. I just need one place to feel safe. I just need some beautiful distractions.         Sitting in my neglected room at the Estettes manor was like sitting on a chopping block. Every cup of tea, every meal, every quiet night; the greedy stares- a little poison, a little accident-- and it was all over. If I had enough money, I would have branched out on my own, even if I had to take a job-- not that I'd be qualified. I've never done laundry before, or know how to sew. Even if I ran away and appealed to some other random family for marriage, without the approval of my family and the cancel of my engagement to Count Boran, I wouldn't be able to escape. And the other methods of 'escape'... I winced and set back to picking out an instrument.         Is the curse of the selfish person endless self-preservation? If I'm going to die, I will at least leave with my dignity intact. Cah, I chuckled at that too. Count Boran- he'd probably have to kill me after the wedding. I foolishly assumed I would be able to die with that at least...         More silence. It felt so sickening and crushing. I miss them... I miss them, yet this is all my fault. Do I even deserve to keep living like this? For how much longer can I keep lying to myself?         Spit gathered in the back of my throat as my fingers pulled my hair roughly, my skin hot and clammy as the first cry reverberated against my ribs.         "AGHH-"          How can I even have the gall to cry? Isn't this all my own making? Maybe if I had been...         Jumping up, I briskly walked over to the piano and slammed open the cover, the echo tickling my ears. With a deep breath, my fists rang harsh chords on the barely tuned piano, their cry reverberating within the room. All I could hear was the rapid and strained huffs which slithered through my teeth, my curled fists pressed into the uneven plate of the stained keys. I hate this. It's not my fault-         I said that, yet I could never believe it. The image of my old family's faces pressed against my eyelids, my legs poised as tightly as they could, my stomach coiled in a deathly grip with wrath. While I wanted to blame my extended family-- my cruel cousins, aunt and uncle; I knew that because of my actions I was just as horrible as them.         "I hate-" My own teeth bit my tongue as I spat it out, my fingers trembling as I hastily pulled off my gloves and threw them on the ground. With nothing short of a small inhale, a violent, garish march was beat from the keys as I poured out all my malice; each key the token of a bruise. The very bones within my own hands ached, but as it was, it doesn't matter.          After a little while, my hands tired and my frustration barely released, my hand roughly slammed the cover over the keys. The risk of breaking or damaging anything- it doesn't matter. As much as I wanted to hold onto the anger, the bitter power only pain brews, I couldn't stop the tight bite of my teeth chipping to my cheeks. Blood, spit, tears- everything crashing down all at once. I hate this.           For a short while, I let myself cry, and with it more memories paced at the front of my mind.         "Now Eleanor, hate is a strong word- apologize to your brother."           I couldn't be bothered to know whether or not it would mean anything, or if anyone was listening, but so long as the emptiness in my chest couldn't swallow more than what was barely left of me already.          Words from the past haunted me like mystical lullabies, and I couldn't tell if my heart was comforted or further slaughtered by hearing them. Perhaps, it was both?         Lulled by my own sobs, the tired breath which followed after offered a tiny moment of peace-- a moment of appreciation for existing. Medaled with a pounding headache, I choppily swallowed the snot and tears down before brushing myself off. There wasn't any use staying here any longer.         I turned to exit before pausing briefly, my shadow cast before me from the light up above. This little dark den of music, where no one can see me and I can't see anyone-- it was a haven I had come to rely on for the past 5 years. The 20 luons tip I always get; for the first time, I began to wonder who it was from.          "I don't know if anyone is up there..." I cleared my sore throat and took one more deep breath.          "I usually play every Thursday, but tonight will be my last time coming here..."          Hearing the silence answer my words, I couldn't tell if it made me feel better or worse. Who would want to sit through someone abusing a piano for thirty minutes, as well as my own harmonic sobs and whines?          "I'm getting married." The flat tone of my voice made me only think more that I'm...          "I'm getting married, and then my family is going to murder me." Saying it, a blade of misery impaled my already fragile heart. I couldn't tell if I was cursing myself- admitting defeat- or if I needed to hear my own voice say it; for my thoughts to exist, for something of me to exist. All the beautiful lies I told myself suddenly felt like they were weighing me down, but I knew that in reality they always were. And the most beautiful of them all... I bit my tremoring lips and sucked in a deep breath.          What was the point in coming clean now? Did I want pity? Or did I want to repent? Unsure, I listened to the descending silence from above, the heaviness of a familiar guilt weighing upon my shoulders.         "But, don't feel too bad for me..." It was a selfish request, made for selfish reasons. To weigh even a touch more than a dove's feather on someone's mind; to taint their precious thoughts with my self-brought plight-- would be utterly and wholly cruel.         "Because-"         My voice was smothered by yelling and a loud scuffle outside, before my door swung and garishly clanged against the thin wall.          "You stupid girl."         My heart was too wounded to beat any faster, my mouth twisted in some terrified grimace. That familiar voice- my vision blurry with my own tears. So it appears my game of cat and mouse has finally come to an end. How much trouble would I be in now, having been caught sneaking away from the manor?         I bowed customarily and sucked in a deep breath before looking at him-- my future husband and killer accomplice.         "Were you thinking of running away before the wedding?! Do you think I wouldn't find you?!" My skin turned to stone seeing him-- his dilated pupils and slanted glare. His dirty blonde hair was completely disheveled, his white shirt stained by what looked like beer. He waited for a moment as if he wanted me to acknowledge him or plead for mercy, but I couldn't lift my exhausted tongue to form any words. What do you want me to do Boran?          "What, now you won't even speak to me?!" My neck bent tensely as his large hand bit into my shoulder. All that could come out was a faint groan, the pounding in my head growing more cacophonous.          "Cah," He chuffed. "You're nothing but a pathetic b***h. Should I just kill you before the wedding?"          The seethe was followed by a maniac chuckle and snake-grin. Oddly enough, part of me wondered if this could be my chance-- if, by a miracle, there was someone in the audience, they could be a witness and save me from this drunk and bumbling fool. Ironically, as soon as I felt that glimmer of hope surface, I also knew that with the Count's connections; no one would believe me. It would become a petty fight between a young 'couple'-- isn't that right? Isn't that what I learned after trying to escape the tenth time?         "To think the dignified Estettes believe in magic contracts. Why else would I marry you? If you want to live, you should be begging me. BEGGING ME."         His black eyes looked more like coals as he shoved his frayed face in front of mine, the disgusting reek of alcohol soiling the back of my throat. The nonsense he was spewing was far from entertaining, and my shoulder had gone numb while he was talking. With all the ruckus, even the dim lighting from the small stage sharply stung at my eyes. What was he on about? Magic contracts? I couldn't stop the small smile which hitched the corner of my mouth, impressed. To think someone like Boran was spouting such superstitious botchery tsk tsk.          The rough callouses of his palm harshly crushed my face as he pulled me closer, his hooded stare causing my skin to burn as if I was splashed with acid. His hot breath slicked my face as he reached for something, my dull limbs humming to life as I attempted to fight back, my nails dully scratching into the skin of his hand.          "I'm not as stupid as your family though."          Say something Eleanor- what are you doing?  While his hand fumbled for something in his pocket, my tired body finally hummed back to life. I need to calm him down. I parted my chapped lips to start begging weakly, my throat burning as I struggled to breathe.          "Wh-"         Cold.         Cold- My hands fell to my stomach as he leaned back, the silver glint of a knife tinted with a sickly pink casing. My palm pressed against my own warm blood, my eyes glued to the light on the thin blade- measuring the bitter length, the agonizing pain which felt more like it maimed the entire lower half of my body. So it's happening even sooner than I thought.         "Miss!" Vince tumbled in and dragged Boran out, my own faint question answered. Why wasn't Vince at the door? Yet, perhaps in irony, Vince closed the door behind him as I stood here, the blood sopping my black dress, though it was covered by my shawl. My own mind felt blank, my body frozen in place. Did my heart beating normally hurt? So this was it. Dying here?          I drew my bloodied palm up to my face, the glossy maroon tickling my skin.          Though I deserve to die, why do I so desperately want to live, even now?          The sounds of Boran still slithered from underneath the door, my body automatically looking through the pit window as I weakly climbed the piano while grabbing my side. Against the wooden slate of the stage, my bloodied hands slipped loosely as I attempted to pull myself up.          "Hhng," the groan accompanied a thin slick of blood rising up my throat, the taste salty and acidic. With a last push of energy, I dragged myself onto the stage, my wet hands growing too shaky to use as I laid down against the smooth wood of the stage while the bright lights blinded me from the rest of the world. A pitiful grin painted my lips as I stared up, my clothes wet and wintry- the air against the stab a constant deep, scalding throb.          "Hng," Just, a little longer? The blood in my throat rose to the entrance of my teeth, my chest stammering pathetically. Ironically, I wanted to live longer for them, even if it meant suffering. It was my payment for what I've done, all while also fulfilling my mother's last wish.          If there's an afterlife, will I get to see my family again?          "koff koff-" I sucked in a breath as deep as I could, resigned. This isn't so bad, hahh... This is...         "Only actors are supposed to die on a stage," the own humming of my throat as I spoke was uncomfortable, my lungs tight as my own limbs sank more into phantoms rather than material.          "At least... I'm dying in my favorite place," I sighed, some of the tension alleviating the cinch across my windpipe. For a few more short inhales, the silence was too deafening- how could my death be so miniscule? The flimsy anger from before scrunched my stiff face as I moved my hand back over the wound, my right leg stiff as I tried to move.          "I fucking... Hate... Cahh..." The taste of blood swelled once more, gushing through my teeth and dripping across my face. Was this my body's way of repeating what my mother told me those years ago? I could picture her lecturing me even now about my words and what their bent meanings would do to my character, as if a single word could turn me into a heretical pirate.         Blaming the Estettes was a double-sided blade, but in this moment, I decided to trick myself that this was all completely and entirely their fault. I didn't even get to finish what I was saying before- this would finally be my chance to tell the truth. Just one, glorious, b****y truth.         "Don't feel too bad for me, because..." I'm a murderer too. The faint humming in my throat broke, the words and sounds unable to come out. For a moment, I couldn't tell if I was closing my eyes or if I wasn't- I couldn't tell if I was breathing or suffocating. The taste of blood was gone now- all that that was left was some sweet twinge; floral almost.         It was pleasant, a micro-second of connotation which caused flowers to bloom behind my eyes and faded memories to whisper. My own thoughts couldn't articulate themselves, but it was peaceful enough for everything to sink away- yet...         I was here. Blackness, nothingness. Not freezing nor boiling, waiting.          "...sfs..." It was faint- distant. Even forming full thoughts fell back to oblivion, but something within me laid back down in my memories, blissful.         "You remind me of a fairy, Eleanor." His little smile was so bright, that I was sure all the flowers of the garden were leaning towards him instead of the sun. And this feeling- this light feeling which makes it so I can't stop smiling- it's been years since I've felt that.          "A fairy? Why is that?"         "Because..." "Because you promised you'd be with me forever, and that means you can't ever die."