The Fourth Day

I used to be able to sleep the moment I commanded my body to. All I needed was to lay down and keep an ear out for anyone who might try to attack me in my sleep, but tonight I’m on edge and it has nothing to do with safety. I’m in a building. The dogs are here, they’ll protect me too. What’s wrong with me? Why can’t I act normally anymore?

What even is my normal now?

How has the shopkeeper changed so much about my life in so little time?

There’s just something about her. Something inexplicable, something I cannot put into words. A feeling, deep down in my gut. It should unnerve me, that she is able to influence me so much. And yet, I feel comforted whenever I am around her. Perhaps she is just special in that way.

I spend the majority of the night staring up at the ceiling. It’s strange, to sleep each night with the apothecary’s arms around me, but then to have that suddenly taken away. I’ve always been good at adjusting, at bending to the life around me. But this feels different - this feels like I’d began to melt into the comfortable mould that was life by the apothecary’s side.

I need to get a grip, clearly.

By the time the birds begin to chirp outside the window, I give up on my failed attempts at sleep. Instead, I get up and feed the dogs, stroking their soft fur as they smile at me happily. It’s strange, how I’ve always had such a clear view of what my life would be like, only for me to end up somewhere like this. This was never a part of my plan. Every day is precious, but I know not to rush the important things either. Things like getting that poison.

I keep finding myself letting thoughts slip through my subconscious, and as much as I try to squash them back down…I can’t. I just can’t, when it comes to the shopkeeper. Sometimes, when I let my guard down, I’ll suddenly be imagining what life would be like if I didn’t kill my father, if I didn’t take him down with me. If I let us both live. 

Would it be peaceful? Fulfilling, to live with the shopkeeper? Here, with the shop and the dogs and the forest sprawling around us?

Would I be happy?

“Don’t be ridiculous,” I murmur, sitting back and staring up, not seeing anything but always looking nevertheless. 

Happiness isn’t for me. It isn’t my right. It’s a fool’s errant, and I will not be a fool. I don’t deserve the idyllic lifestyle, I don’t deserve any of it. I have my role in life and I have to carry it out.

But what if I didn’t?

What if I let the revenge go? If I let the dust settle, if I accepted that what’s done is done and I should leave things as they are?

What if I let it go?

If I let her go?

The thought alone is so painful that I can’t help but let out a gasp as I press a hand to my chest in distress. Major whines, pushing her head into my lap. I sigh shakily, stroking her soft ears and trying to keep my breathing measured.

I hate this. I hate the hand that was dealt to me, the life that was decided for me. I hate my father, I hate my mother, I hate Apella and I hate myself for not saving the girl I love. What did I do in a past life to have deserved all this? Or was I just the unlucky one to be born to a monster and his wife?

I’m tired of accepting the life that I have - that’s why I left, all those years ago. It’s why I swore my revenge, why I ended up here in the first place. Here, with the shopkeeper. The shopkeeper whose laugh reminds me so much of hers. I’ll admit, the thought had crossed my mind that perhaps, by some miracle, she was still alive, and that my vengeance on her behalf had led me to her. It would’ve been poetic, and too perfect. She isn’t alive. She died, I heard her die.

I heard my father butcher her, as my mother held me while I shook and cried and fought against her. As I tried so desperately to get to Oria, to help her, to save her.

“Oria,” I sob out, doubling over in anguish as screams ring out in my head, crystal clear. I should be used to them by now; I have heard them almost every night for sixteen years, and yet…I can’t ‘get used’ to them. They are true pain, compounded into a single sound. They are sadness and anger and rage and sorrow and I wish I could scream, I wish I could just-

“Temi? What’s wrong?” The apothecary gathers me up into her comforting embrace, her arms circling my back as she holds me, her heartbeat a soothing thud against my chest.

“Y-you’re back,” I gasp out, clutching at her shirt with anxious intensity, my hands shaking with uncontainable anguish.

“I am, yes. The shop was closed, so I thought maybe you had…left,” she whispers, her fingers trailing through my hair calmingly, her embrace so warm and…safe. For a moment, I just let myself enjoy her comfort, her heat and strength. But then my moment is over and shame fills me as it dawns on me that yet again, the apothecary has seen me as a blubbering, emotional mess. That isn’t me. I’m not emotional - I’ve been repressing my feelings for long enough that by now, that part of my brain should have shut off. 

And yet, here we are. 

Unable to stop myself, I pull the shopkeeper down, pressing my lips to hers in a brief kiss. I need her, right now. I want her. I want her hands on my waist, her kisses at my throat, her hot breath in my ear. 

But this isn’t a moment of passion for the apothecary. 

She kisses me softly, her fingers slipping up into my hair, massaging my scalp in soothing circles. Her mouth moves against mine almost painfully slowly, whilst I gasp against her, my cheeks still wet from the tears I shed during my breakdown. One of my many breakdowns. How is she always so calm? The complete opposite of me.

“What’s the rush, my sweet?” She breathes against my lips, pressing soft kisses to the corner of my mouth before pulling back, her hand moving to cup my cheek whilst the other rests on my back, holding me close to her.

“I- I don’t want to think anymore, I’m-“ a shiver crawls down my spine and I instinctively take a step towards the apothecary, letting my head fall to rest on her shoulder. “I’m too tired. Please, can’t we just…” I whisper, pressing myself closer to her until my chest is touching hers. I couldn’t be any closer if I tried, and yet we still feel too far apart.

“Artemisia…” she murmurs, fingers combing through my hair. “My darling, what you need right now isn’t sex. It’s comfort, and safety, and some good old fashioned intimacy - the non sexual kind.” She brings my hand up to her lips, pressing kisses to the pads of my fingers. Unable to speak anymore for the busyness in my head, I simply nod, letting the shopkeeper lead me up to her room. She undresses me, a gentle smile on her lips as she finds a soft nightshirt for me to wear before guiding me down onto the bed, pulling the covers over me.

I’m so tired. Of everything. 

I just want it all to be over.

“Sleep, my sweet Temi,” she whispers, wrapping her arms around me, still in her rough black shirt, the one I’ve never seen beneath. “I’ll be right here when you wake up,” she murmurs, pressing kiss after kiss to my forehead. 

I can make it through the night.