A Bird Locked In A Golden Cage

I bite my tongue and dig my chipped nails into the soft wooden chair to keep myself from screaming as the man sitting in front of me uses his mind-control ability. My surroundings start to blur. The heavy, cold, and moist air surrounding me turns into light, breathable air. Air that carries the scent of pine and pansy trees.

Flashes of a beautiful woman dance in front of my eyes. Her long blonde hair swishes and swings behind her as she dances through the room. She is singing loudly along with the music the brown-haired girl in the corner produces with the little homemade harp.

The woman's pointy fae ears, decorated with various piercings, stick out between the shiny golden locks. She laughs loudly as she swings her hips gracefully from left to right. The little red-haired toddler in the woman's arms is laughing aloud, showing her few teeth, and claps along slightly off the music's rhythm.

The image starts to change. I watch the little toddler grow up to a seven-year-old kid. Her wine-red hair has grown out and reaches just below her small shoulders. Her chubby cheeks are smudged with dirt as she draws with a stick in the dark sand surrounding the little family's cabin.

"No," I whisper, knowing what's about to come. "Please, no." My heart is beating feverishly in my ribcage. My hands turn clammy with sweat. I cross my arms in front of my chest, trying to look unbothered, even when I feel everything but that. I swallow, trying to fight the uneasy feeling developing as a heavy pit in my stomach.

"Don't you dare hurt or take her from me! She's my daughter!" a man shouts from inside the cabin.

"She's evil, just like you!" A woman responds, also shouting, "She'll doom us all. She deserves to die! The both of you do!"

"Kill her," the man orders with a cold and hollow voice.

More shouting and crying, a loud crash, and a scream of pain follow. The little girl jumps up and sneaks to the window to see what's happening inside. She lifts herself on her tippy toes. This way, she was barely tall enough to peek inside.

The little girl's eyes quickly water. The blonde fae woman lies on the floor. A big, growing puddle surrounds her body. Two other people are present in the room. A male and a female. Both have their backs turned toward the window. The male stands upright with his arms crossed in front of his broad frame. The female is crouched beside the blonde fae lying in a puddle of her blood.

The female has wine-red hair, just like the little girl, only longer. Where the hair of the little girl reaches below her shoulders, the hair of the female in the cabin reaches her butt. Her ears are pointy but not as pointed as the pierced ears of the blonde fae on the ground. She is half-fae.

At one moment, the female noticed they had company. She looks over her shoulder, grinning wide at the little girl peeking through the window. Her rich tan skin is covered in blood, and she has a thick, curving scar, starting at her right cheekbone and ending at her jaw. Her eyes spark with joy as she grins at her.

The little girl screams in terror. The young female who killed her Mother was herself — only grown up.

"Stop! Please stop!" I beg as I can't hold back the tears.

The man sitting across from me withdraws his power. My surroundings clear up again. The cabin, the little girl, the dead body on the ground, and the grinning young woman vanish from my mind.

I am back in the dining room of my quarters, deep in the castle's dungeons. The annoying soft, high-pitched whine of electricity fills my ears. Accompanied by the static and buzzing feeling under my skin. I can feel the electricity flow through the chandelier dangling above the oval, oaken table.

I gasp softly, trying to find my composure and simultaneously tune out the whining of the electricity that always makes my skin crawl.

I loathe it when the man in front of me uses his mind-control ability on me. He makes me relive the memories of my Mother's death over and over again. And each time, it's altered. And now, after all those years, I can't remember the truth. I don't know what is a lie and what's reality.

"You are no fun," he wines and slumps in his seat. "I was just getting at the good part, but have it your way, Buttercup."

I stare blankly at him. His troubled golden eyes stare right into mine. The big, golden crown decorated with thorn branches made out of tourmaline sits neatly on the waves of his messy, wheat-blond hair.

The clicking sound of high heels, mixed with a machine's buzzing, sounds from behind the metal door to my left. "My King," a little pitchy but still beautiful female voice, follows. Calling for the Dark King's attention. The man sitting across from me immediately snaps his head towards the locked door of my luxury prison.

I am a bird locked in a golden cage. But even though it is golden, it is still a cage — a prison. I am still locked away from the world without a key to free me from this reality.

"One of your pets calls for your attention, King," I mock.