I Hate Everyone

I stare, almost mesmerized at the movements I let my paintbrush make. I let the calm consume me. From the corner of my eye, I see Dagon scootch over to my bed, trying to get a better peak at what I am doing. I glare at him. He immediately stays put. A heavy sigh leaves his lips. He rolls his eyes and slumps against the wall.

"Why do you hate me?" he grumbles. "I haven't done shit. Is it because I got thrown into your personal space?" I give him another one of my infamous glares to shut him up. Dagon grumbles some curses not meant for a child's ears and crosses his arms in front of his chest.

"It's not you. I hate everyone," I answer truthfully. "Everyone can rot away in the darkness. See if I care," I roll my eyes. "We're all just pawns in the Dark King's chess game. Nothing more, nothing less." I tap my temple with the wooden end of my brush, staring down at the swift lines I have painted. Right. Dots. It needs dots. I dip my brush in the dark grey paint and bring my brush back to my canvas.

"There are always two sides to a story, but only one part get's told. You know why?" I don't leave room for him to reply. "The victors of the battle are the ones who tell the tale. They cast themselves in holy light. No one paints themselves as a villain when they can be the hero." I shrug, brushing the string of my hair that has escaped my tail behind my ear.

"Maybe we deserve this fate after everything they put him through. It's not just him who has done horrible things. Besides, when was the last time he caused harm?" I ask, shrugging.

"Just last night," Dagon mumbles, vaguely motioning to himself.

I decide to ignore him.

"Wait," he says as something dawns on him. "Are you picking his side?" His voice darkens in a way that should scare or at least intimidate me. But it does not affect me whatsoever.

"No. I am just spitting truths." I look him back in the eye only to see him stare right back. Neither of us dares to look away. "I don't pick anyone's side but my own. I am only loyal to myself. Staying loyal to myself is the reason I am still alive. And plan to do just that." I pause for a second and turn my attention back to my painting. "Survive."

"Ever thought of escaping?" Dagon asks after a few minutes of beautiful silence.

"I used to. All the time, I used to."

"But not anymore?"

"No."

"Care to elaborate?"

Once more, I sent him one of my glares. Seeing my expression, Dagon closes his mouth and clicks his tongue.

A feeling of fulfillment washes over me.

"I have enough scars to bear," I finally say—both visible and invisible. "Besides, all my last attempts failed. Did you really think this golden cage would still be my reality if I could escape?" I don't take my eyes off the movement I make with my paintbrush. Dagon stays quiet.

"That's what I thought."

"But now you're not alone," he whispers, barely loud enough for me to hear. I freeze—a drop of paint splashes on my canvas.

He is right. All the other times I had tried to get out of this place... I was alone. Or accompanied by someone without the power you need to escape this place. But him...

Dagon is a rebel leader.

He killed Polly. A task that, until yesterday, seemed to be impossible. And he did it all on his own.

With him... I may actually have a decent chance to escape this place.

...But do I really want to escape?

This has been my reality for so long. I don't know how to act outside. I don't know how to be free. I don't know if I like being free. Will I finally feel alive outside these walls?

Maybe my sister is still out there.

I roll my eyes at that foolish thought. No. That is just wishful thinking. She can't be. In our last conversation, she hinted that she wasn't returning. In some encrypted way, she told seven-year-old me she would sacrifice herself.

She's dead.

A sharp pang rushes through my chest.

I force myself to snap out of it. My eye falls on the paint drop on my otherwise perfect painting. I grumble, annoyed. I look past the ruined spot and gasp softly.

I have painted my sister.

Well, not exactly my sister because it has been so long since I have seen her that I started to forget what she looked like. But I clearly remember the snow leopard form she loved to morph into. When I woke up from a nightmare, she would make me feel protected by morphing into a snow leopard and cuddle with me.

And when I was bored, she would morph into that specific form and let me ride on her back while she chased through the woods.

I remember feeling free and alive at those times. Is it possible I will feel that way again outside these walls?

I shift my gaze to Dagon, still slumped against the wall.