Chapter 13 #2
I’d shaved the whole thing off once or twice in my life, just to please Vincent who always begged me to, but I always felt weird about it afterwards.
It always made me feel like a little girl, so I got the ick whenever Vincent declared it was hot.
He loved it. And inevitably, a week later, it was an itchy, bumpy, ingrown mess.
My mind wandered. The deep, earthy smell of the mineral water was so relaxing, and it was the perfect temperature, too. Steam billowed all around me, swirling eerily in the darkness of my cave.
I bet Seraphina didn’t have any pubic hair. She probably never grew any. Seraphina, with her long limbs and plump collagen-filled skin, was young and dazzlingly beautiful.
Suddenly, as if I’d summoned her, she was there, right in front of me, smiling her serene smile. I stared at her, standing up on the ledge of the cave, leaning back, posing effortlessly—a picture of youth and elegance.
God, she was beautiful. The white silk dress hugged her slim body, curving out around the gentle bump of her belly.
She ran her hands lightly over her skin, opened her mouth and whispered to me, her soft Irish accent sounding like a sweet melody on the breeze, “Of course Vincent prefers me. Men always want a younger woman. Why would anyone want you?”
“Donovan wants me,” I stammered. “He does. I felt it.”
She giggled. “You’re delusional, though. You know you are. The prince could have anybody—anybody in the whole world.” She tilted her head to the side, watching me with pity and scorn in her eyes. “Why would he want a crazy old woman like you?”
My pajamas felt scratchy on my skin. They were too loose, too frumpy, three sizes too big. It was all the hospital had left, and they kept slipping down over my hips, threatening to drop to the ground and expose me. I wound my fingers in the elastic of my pants, trying to hold onto them.
“Look at you,” Seraphina cooed, her eyes shining. “Now, look at me.”
Oh God, she was right. Next to her, next to the blazing beauty of Seraphina, a pregnant goddess, a fecund angel... I was nothing. An old hag.
“He’s only going through the motions, just to be a good boy for his momma. You know that for a fact, Susan.”
I shook my head desperately. “No.”
She laughed; it sounded like a beautiful chime of bells. “It’s true. You’re lying to yourself because you want it to be true, but you know in your heart that it’s not. You’re over the hill, Susan.”
I stammered. For a long time, I couldn’t find the words to respond. That wasn’t right; I always knew what to say. My sharp tongue felt like a dead slug in my mouth. I felt like the wind had been knocked out of me. “I’m not over the hill. I’m not.”
“You are. Dried up. Barren.” Seraphina’s words echoed around the cave, back and forth, back and forth, each wave punched me again and again. “You’re barren. You’re not a real woman.”
“No. No!”
Her voice bounced around the cave, hitting me from all directions. “Not a real woman. You’re not desirable. Why would he want you, when he could have me? He could have anyone. Anyone at all. He’s just doing it because he has to. Because of the stupid prophecy.”
Loud. Her voice was too loud. It hurt so much.
She cradled her smooth, round belly with both hands. “Look what I did, Susan. Look what I did for him. The ultimate expression of love. And you can’t give your prince this. You’re broken. Defective.”
My stomach ached, like a hole had been punched in me. I was so empty.
Seraphina’s smile twisted. “Why would he want you? You’re used goods, Susan. Used up. Old. He’ll have to stretch your wrinkles out just to find a hole to fuck.”
“Chosen!”
“Imagine how revolted he’s going to be, having to make love to you.” She laughed prettily. “Vincent was the same, you know. He always told me how much better it was with me. How much I turned him on. How much more of a woman I was.”
“Chosen!” Something tugged at my hair. “Bitch, stop fighting me!” My body inexplicably hurt, like I was being dragged over the sidewalk.
But Seraphina’s words hurt more, because she was right. The darkness pressed in on me, suffocating me, and her words bounced around my head over and over.
I was old and used up. And Donovan was just going through the motions, because he had to.
Donovan. He was here. I could see him in the corner, a specter of himself, a dark-haired ghost, doubled over, gagging at the idea of having to make love to me. I disgusted him. A gross old woman.
“Chosen!” Something slapped me across the face.
A chime rang in my ears. I blinked. “Cecil?”
His long face came slowly into view as the nightmare receded. He stood over me on all four hooves which was very unusual. His shining blue eyes were wide with fright.
My chest felt tight. Just then, I realized I was panting, my pulse racing out of control. “What happened?”
“What happened? What happened?” He threw his head back and gave a desperate whinny. “I’ll tell you what happened. Girl, you almost drowned in the pool!”
“What?” Slowly, I sat up. I was lying on the stone floor of my bathroom, stark-naked. I wasn’t wearing scratchy pajamas. Seraphina wasn’t here. Neither was the ghost of Donovan.
“You were thrashing around in your bath, Chosen! You were screaming at someone, but there was nobody here.”
“There was someone here,” I mumbled. The words left my lips before I could stop them. Seraphina had been here. I was sure of it. She’d been right there. I’d seen her so clearly.
It felt so real. Every single part of it felt so real.
Maybe it was real. Maybe I was back in the psychiatric hospital.
Maybe I’d never left it.
My body broke into a cold sweat.
Could that be true? Right now, I wasn’t sure.
“Sweetheart,” Cecil whinnied. “I was seriously concerned that I’d have to perform CPR on you. My first aid certificate is expired! I can’t remember if I’m supposed to do compressions in time to the Bee Gees or Beyoncé!” He paced, his hooves clip-clopping loudly on the stone floor.
It failed to drown out the noise in my head.
The logic of it all pummeled me mercilessly, forcing me to see things reasonably. What was more likely? That I’d had a menopause-induced mental breakdown, tried to kill my husband, and been institutionalized in a psychiatric hospital?
Or was it more likely that I was the Chosen One, and a sassy duocorn butler was about to dress me for dinner for my first date with a handsome fae prince?
Had I ever gotten out? Was I actually still in the hospital, living out a delusion? Talking to my hallucinations?
What the hell was real?
Terror clawed at my insides. I wanted to scream.
But Cecil—stomping back and forth, tossing his mane—looked so frightened. Even if he was just a hallucination, I felt terrible for scaring him.
I shook my head, feeling the last of my nightmare—or the last dregs of reality—ebb away slowly. “I must have fallen asleep. I was dreaming, Cecil. I’m sorry to have worried you.”
“You weren’t dreaming,” he snapped. “Your eyes were open; you were screaming at someone.”
“Well… It was a very lucid dream. I’ve always been a sleepwalker, Cecil,” I lied. “I know it looks scary, but I promise you, it’s just stress related.”
He shook his head and glared at me suspiciously.
“I can’t sense any malevolent magic around you,” he mumbled under his breath, as if talking to himself.
“There are no evil spirits in here. No imps or goblins or sleep demons. But still.” He huffed out an exasperated breath.
“Girlfriend, I’m a little worried about you. More than a little.”
“I just need some sleep. I’ll be okay, Cecil.” I met his eyes calmly.
And felt my skin buzz. I was lying. I didn’t think I was going to be okay at all.