Keydis Lysistrata
Caeancora
Smiling
Wordcount: 600
"'I'm smiling. When was the last time I smiled?' That's the line, not a confession. I smile all the time." Shadows covered them like a blanket, slivers of moonlight creeping in past the blinds to catch on scattered bits of metal and cast a shimmery glow on sweat-sheened skin. The air outside was cold but inside it had been sweltering, and though things had cooled off, there remained a comfortable ardor.
"I always had the feeling that I was a problem, something to be taken care of. After my parents' deaths, I didn't know what to think, where I was or belonged. I was too young, I couldn't really grasp it." A long, slow sigh crept out, followed by a tense silence. "When I heard that, he didn't know I was there listening. But that was when I knew, I understood. I may have lost my parents, but I still had a family. Me and him, we'd both lost them, but we still had each other and… I don't know. There's no blood between us, but he's my uncle, my cousin, my brother, whatever you want to call it. He's family.
"For the longest time, I wanted to be like him. I studied, I trained, I defied him at every step because the last thing he wanted was for me to have the life he had." She quietly laughed. "Giving in would have meant admitting there was something wrong, something lowly, about the life he led, and I couldn't admit that. I would never admit that. He took care of me, raised me alone, while putting his life on the line every day just to put food on the table. That was something to aspire to, not something to avoid.
"But he saw it differently, saw what he did as necessary, rather than admirable. He wanted better for me, wanted something more like what my parents had."
Quiet reflection followed, faint rustling as wool blankets were pulled higher, preserving more of that lingering warmth. The moment dragged on, seconds stretching into minutes, breathing slow and shallow. Finally, words began again, quietly, the mere act of speaking more important than being heard. "I don't know when it shifted from being for him… to being in spite of him. I don't know when things got so fucked up between us. I still love him, but every time I see him, I can't help shouting.
"He deserves better, but he also crossed a line. Crossed a lot of lines. Everything he ever did was out of worry for me, but he never once considered what I wanted. How am I supposed to forgive that? How am I supposed to get mad at that? It's all fucked, especially now.
"My whole life, I wanted to leave. Even when I was putting my everything into becoming a guard for the city, I wanted to leave. Then when I finally did, I missed it. Now I'm back, and I'm happy to be here, but ready to leave. Because as comfortable and familiar as it is… I'm not the same person. Not just because of… this thing inside. I'm changed. Being back feels haunting, almost. Constant reminders of stupid things I've said or done or thought. A nagging pressure to make things right, but I'm too stubborn to do that." Another reflection follows.
"Well," she says breathily, eyes closing, "I guess that's how I am. Who I am." A final, soft sigh slips out and as the last flickers of warmth vanish from the rest of the room, the cocoon of covers is drawing tighter, she's smiling.