Chapter Nineteen

I used to cut myself. At the time, I guess, I never really understood why. When my parents found out, dad was upset. What else is new though. Confused and upset. Those were his most common emotions when dealing with me. Or as he would put it, my “problems.”

Mom, she thought it was an opportunity for some unique bonding experience for us. She showed me the scars she’d burnt onto both sides of her collar bone. She thought it was cool when she did it. About my age, at the time, I guess. It didn’t take long until she was embarrassed by them. She said she too knew what it was like to be alone and to want to hurt yourself.

Alone. I never felt alone. Alone is the one thing I’ve never been. Misunderstood? Sure. Suffocated? Definitely. Pinned down with a knife to my throat? Figuratively and literally.

The reason we do things is always so simple. Why does it take us so long to figure things out? Or maybe it’s just me and my thick skull.

I’ve never hated myself. And I never thought the pain was cool. I just needed to prove that nobody could ever inflict pain as bad as I was willing to inflict on myself. That’s what these scars on my forearm mean. And I don’t care who sees them. And I don’t care what anyone thinks about me. And I don’t…….

Ughhhh, my feet are DYING. I shouldn’t be walking this entire trip. I don’t even know how much further it is to the next village. I should have a horse. Or a horse-drawn carriage. Or I should turn into a horse. Can that be a thing? Everything else has gone off the rails. I want some metamorphing horse powers goddamnit!

Who even walks anymore anyway? People who talk to themselves out loud walk. Creepy people skulking in the woods walk.

Oh damn…… That’s me now.

All this, and sis is just gonna…. well, she’s probably gonna blame me, let’s face it. Typical sis. Her picture-perfect life, and here her little creepy sister is just gonna show up with ratty hair, filth-encrusted clothes, feet sooooooo sore. It’s gonna be chaos.

Sounds glorious. At least that’s one silver lining in all this.

If I even survive this journey. Seriously, I’m never walking anywhere ever again. This is the worst. And if I ever see Lawrence again, I’m absolutely blaming him. Yup. No questions asked. This is all his fault.

An entire army and not one little horse to spare for me? He didn’t even ask. He just ran off to join another stupid war. He can’t even fight. Wanted to teach ME how to wield a sword. Ha!

Two-time all-valley fencing champion, thank you.

I should be teaching him how… to… not drink like an asshole. Ya. I bet he walks all the time. Walks and drinks. In between pining after my mother. And thank you SO much for constantly bringing her up DAYS after losing her. Just what I wanted Lawrence. You…. You…. Publican.

I don’t even know what that means. But it sounds bad. I need to remember that if I ever see him again. Lawrence the publican. And trust me, it is most definitely a word. Read a book, asshole.

Lights? Are those lights? Oh thank you. Thank you thank you thank you. Just please don’t be a demon. Or fairies. Or ghosts. Or whatever other supernatural beings are running around these days.

Please, just be people. Normal human beings. With fire. And a bed. And cake. Oh, if they have cake, I’m never leaving.

Nah, I need to leave. Eventually. Road cake. I need road cake.