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First Reading: Reversed Arcana

As my consciousness faded, I found myself in a place between dream and reality.

I was floating on a river of blood, and its hazy depths I heard impotent curses and hopeless cries for help from those who have tormented me.

In this last moment of clarity I knew peace for the first time in years.

I could lose myself here, allowing the river to take me wherever it wanted.

But the moment ended and darkness has overtaken me.

I came to my senses slowly, emerging from the deep darkness of the unconsciousness.

Warm surrounded me. I felt some kind of liquid on my skin, caressing my form, invigorating me, taking away all the little pains that follow all of us and giving me strength. It has a peculiar metallic smell, but even that was enjoyable.

I smiled, and my smile was real.

I thought about just lying here and enjoying the sensation, but as reason returned to me, I started to realize I was in a bathtub. It was a bad idea to be here for too long. I could fall asleep again.

I opened my eyes.

Blood.

I saw blood.

I smelt blood.

The bathtub was filled with blood.

I was lying in blood. Blood was around me and on my skin and in my hair and in my pores and in my veins I had to let it out I had to scrub it I had to get out I had to get clean shit so much blood shit shit shit!

"Please, forgive me!" The pleading voice returned me to my senses. I was sprawled on the floor in a pool of blood and my own vomit. In my hand was half of a razor. I cut my fingers, adding my blood to the rest. Another half was embedded in a face of a figure prostrating herself before me.

Everything around was hazy, heavy steam of yellowish color obscured the features of the figure, and my own vision didn't help matters. I was pretty sure she was a woman and wore a maid uniform, however.

I dropped the razor.

"W-who..." My throat was painfully raw, and I realized I was screaming moments ago. "Who are you?" I said. "Where am I? What's going on? What do you want?" Even as I was saying it, I crawled back and frantically looked around. The only exit from the bath was blocked by the woman.

"Please, Your Majesty," she said in a wavering voice. "Your Majesty is waiting for you. She will explain everything. Please, allow me to help you get dry. I have clothes for you. Please."

What was going on? Was it a dream? No, I knew how dreams felt. No smells, no tactile sensations. There was pain in my fingers, there was the metallic smell, there was the sensation of... the sensation of blood.

I vomited again.

I felt so sick.

What was going on?

I looked at the woman.

She was prostrating herself before me, mindless of the pool of b- liquids around her.

Somehow, the sight calmed me a bit. I was shivering, I was scared, but I could act. Probably.

What was she saying? She offered me to get dry. Yes. It was important. Getting... that out of my skin.

"S-stand," I said. "Let's... let's clean me."

The cleaning took a long time. I used water from the sink, trying not to look at the bathtub, and scrubbed all over my body. I still wasn't satisfied. I was sure the... stuff was still on me, lingering in pores where I can't reach it.

I felt a bit better, though. At least my fingers weren't bloodied anymore. There wasn't any wound. I didn't cut them, it seemed, probably just pressed hard and mistook other liquid for my own.

Then the woman gave me the clothes. A tuxedo, complete with a top hat and a domino mask with lenses put in eye sockets.

I quickly dressed up while the woman was cleaning around.. I knew it was irrational, but I felt just a bit safer. The clothes were a layer of protection between me and this strange world.

I hesitated holding the mask in my hand, but in the end put it on.

Looking through the lenses, I could see no steam. In fact, my vision was perfectly clear.

For the first time I could see where I was. A luxurious bathroom, the kind I imagined when I dreamed about what it would be like to live in a huge mansion. In fact, I was pretty sure I recognized it from a movie I once watched with my mother. Though I pretty sure there was a mirror in that bathroom.

Then I looked at the woman and screamed.

She had no eyes. Just two dark bleeding holes.

I pushed her outside and locked the door, heavily leaning against it, searching for the lock. I've managed to turn the key on the third try.

What the hell was going on? Where was I? Was it hell? What happened to me? What is my last memory before this... this place?

I couldn't remember.

"Please!" the woman pleaded from the other side of the door. She was speaking for a while, I thought, I just couldn't register it. "Please, Your Majesty, we have to go. Your Majesty is waiting!"

Slowly I sat down, still leaning against the door. I put my head on my knees and put my hands on my ears.

I couldn't deal with it. I just... couldn't. Maybe it was a hallucination. Maybe someone will find me wandering the school or the town and will bring me to hospital and I'll get some medication and everything will be fine...

No, it won't be.

That, if anything, I knew.

The pleading stopped after a while. I was left alone in a bathroom filled with blood.

The door shattered and I was send sprawling on the floor.

Two tall figures clad in rusted armor stood in the doorway. Their helms were bleeding.

Both deeply bowed to me and spoke in synchronized monotone.

"Forgive us, Your Majesty. But Your Majesty has requested your presence. Please, come along."

I quickly stood up and backed away from them, but there wasn't much space to move.

"I am not going anywhere!" I said, but my voice sounded pathetic even to me.

"Please, forgive us," they said again before moving fast to each side of me and lifting me by my shoulders.

I kicked and screamed at them, but they didn't pay much attention to it.

We moved out of the bathroom and into a corridor.

Soon, my legs touched ground again and I fell into step with two armored figures. It was easier that way.

I told myself I was going to bid my time and look for an opportunity to run away.

The walls around us were covered in paper yellow from time. There was writing on the walls, and as I looked, I recognized it for what it was: my own handwriting describing all things I've suffered at the hands of my tormentors.

Why was it here? What kind of sick joke was it?

Desperately, I hoped I was delusional. I hoped I went crazy from everything in my life. I hoped I was seeing things.

But I couldn't convince myself of it. It was too good to be true. Not something that would happen to me.

We moved quickly through the corridors and spirals stairways and soon reached our apparent destination.

A huge dining hall decorated with tapestries depicting some royal figure conquering her enemies, overseeing trials and receiving gifts from her subjects.

Thousands candles were strategically placed around the room, drowning the space in shadows and traitorous flickering light.

The centerpiece of the room was an enormous table nearly crumbling under all the food placed on it. Delicacies I only read about in books.

My stomach took this moment to remind me that I didn't eat in... I didn't know how long.

At the head of the table a woman was sitting on what looked like a throne. She was clad in shining bronze armor and a heavy steel crown was on her head.

And she had my face.

Looking at her was like looking in a twisted mirror. I recognized the features, seeing them so often, but they were warped by the cruel smile and predatory gaze of strange yellow eyes.

My two companions marched me to the other end of the table, released my hands, bowed and walked to the door to stand guard.

The crowned figure slowly cut a piece of meat on her table and ate it looking at me.

"Took you a while to come here," she said. She had my voice, but it was broken by an echo that had nothing to do with acoustics of this place. "Sit. You must be hungry, so eat. And I will explain the situation to you."

I did as she said. That seemed to be the wisest choice. Just do as I am told, and the situation will pass eventually.

The meat was delicious. There was some strange smoky flavor to it, but that just added to the pleasure. I didn't realize just how hungry I was before I started eating.

I didn't touch the drink, however. It was red, probably wine. And it reminded me too much of the bathroom.

The woman with my face watched, slowly eating her own meal. When she saw that I finished, she said, "You are wondering what's going on here. I will explain. I am Taylor Hebert."

I stared at her, lost for words.

"You are my Shadow," she continued. "The fake self created from all the useless parts of me I've discarded. You are nothing more than a furniture which purpose is to distract people from me as I am busy with important things. However, I am growing tired watching your pathetic life. Day to day, year to year you allow others to step on you. You allow others to become close to you and turn the knife in your wounds. It is so frustrating to watch someone with your face being such a sorry excuse for a human being. So I think I'll replace you. I will certainly live a better life in your place than you ever could. Even someone like you should be able to see it."

She took a delicate sip from a goblet, staining her lips with red. An eyeless servant immediately refilled the goblet.

"That's..." I had trouble speaking. What was happening, this whole situation, everything was absurd. How could I hope to understand what was happening? "That's impossible." I decided to stick with what I knew to be true. "I am Taylor Hebert."

She laughed. A cruel, mocking laugh that denied the very foundation of my existence.

"You are not me," she said at last. I felt something inside of me twisting at this words and shadows around me growing deeper. "You are not anything, really. How could you be without acting? How could you be without doing anything? What do you do when confronted with Emma, Sophia and Madison? With their lackeys and indifferent teachers? You cower in fear, you allow them to do what you want. You are pathetic little furniture, existing only to amuse others. Stepping aside and allowing me to take your place will do you good. You can stay here, free from your petty concerns, while I do what you should have done if you weren't so useless."

She gestured, and the eyeless servant removed the cover from the central plate.

"Case in point," my counterpart said as I stared in horror at the image before me.

It was a severed head. And through its upper half was obscured by an ornamental helmet, the lower half I recognized. I saw it so many times with my head bowed down as its owner leaned close to me to whisper insults.

"Sophia..." I whispered.

Then I looked at my plate.

Oh.

Oh shit.

I felt sick.

I ran. I had to get out of here. If I were to spend any more time here, I'll... I'll... I didn't know what would happen. Maybe I'll go mad, if I weren't crazy already.

I ran through corridors with walls telling my sorry story, up and down the stairs. I didn't know where I was going, I didn't know if I were any closer to the exit. I didn't even know if this place had an exit.

It was a nightmare. One horrible scene after another, terrifying absurdity after terrifying absurdity. How could this place exist? How could I be here?

I met a few people on my run. Eyeless servants and maids, rusty knights and police officers with holes in their chests. They were stepping aside the moment they noticed me.

Was there an end to this madness, or did this place just go on forever, space warped to lock me inside?

I reached two massive doors and pushed them open. I ran into the entrance and stopped in my tracks. I was outside the building.

No, I quickly realized, I was in some kind of an inner garden. The paper walls surrounded it, with three more entrances on each side and opposite me.

The garden was bare but for the numerous wooden stakes rising high, like greedy fingers trying to reach dark red sky. On each stake was impaled a humanoid figure, many squirming, some motionless.

Another nightmare.

"Like what you see?" said a familiar voice behind me.

I turned to find the woman with my face standing here, looking at the garden and smiling fondly. I backed away from her.

"Even such a pathetic thing as you should be able to appreciate what I did here," she said, still not looking at me. "Look closely and be grateful."

I looked at the figures again and recognized them as Winslow students with their eyes plucked out.

"You are a monster," I whispered, trying to catch my breath.

She laughed.

"That is what you always wanted but couldn't do since you don't have the good parts of Taylor Hebert," she said almost gently. "You see now how much better I will be in your place."

"I never wanted it!" I shouted. "I am nothing like you! You... this place... everything! This is insane! I want it all to disappear! I want to be back!"

Her features twisted. The bronze armor warped, expanding and taking on a new form.

I tried to run, but something coiled around my leg, sending me to the ground. As I turned, I saw a chain attached to the armor that has become an Iron Maiden surrounded by torture devices composing a strange mechanism. Spikes, wheels, chains, barbed wire and other things I didn't recognize were interlocked and intervened, moving together in perfect synchronicity.

The Iron Maiden opened, and I saw a beating heart in the middle, suspended by bloodied wire.

Chains emerged from within and coiled around my body, hooks biting into flesh. Screaming and fighting, I was dragged inside, and the spiked metal closed before my face.

I was in a dark confined place, my head resting against the beating heart. I felt blood soaking into my hair.

The unwelcome memories resurfaced in my mind, threatening to drown me if I allowed myself to concentrate on them too much.

The only light was coming from the hollow eyes of the Iron Maiden, level with my own.

"You, ungrateful furniture," said the familiar voice. In the dark, I had troubles distinguishing it from my thoughts. "You should be thanking me for allowing such a lowly thing as you to witness my work. Look!"

Looking through the eyes of the Iron Maiden, I saw chains extending to the impaled figures, finding their flesh. Agonized screams filled the air. Blood flowed from the figures to the Iron Maiden, filling it and drowning me.

I couldn't even trash around without impaling myself on sharp spikes. Staying still and frozen in horror was all that I could do.

Yet despite myself I felt... pleasure.

Fresh blood soothed the pain in my wounds left by the hooks and washed away the exhaustion from the long run.

"That's what it's like to be me!" said the Iron Maiden in my thoughts. "That's what always lied beyond your reach! Power! Control! Life!"

One of the spikes suddenly extended, striking me in the stomach.

"I should kill you here and now and be done with this charade! I will take the place you occupied for so long and teach the world to respect the name of Taylor Hebert you marred with your existence!"

More spikes were extending, slower this time. I closed my eyes. Please, just let it be over.

"But..." The voice changed. It lost its energy, suddenly sounding very tired. "It won't change anything, will it? You are but a little shadow. Even your death has no meaning. Futile."

The metal monstrosity disappeared, leaving me lying on the ground in a pool of blood.

I didn't move. I barely thought.

There was no pain, but I wished there was. That, at least, would have provided a distraction from my counterpart and her words.

She was slowly walking away from me.

"Servants will arrive shortly," she said, her voice devoid of any intonation. "They will clear you up and show you your room."

"J-Just kill me," I managed to say. Even though my voice was barely audible even to me, she heard it.

"Didn't I say? Your death would be just as meaningless as your existence. You will live and learn to appreciate the life of Taylor Hebert the way I will handle it."

With that, she left me alone.

"Sorry, Your Majesty!"

I was sitting in "my" room - a copy of my real room, expanded to include lavish furniture. Windows were replaced with television screens tuned on static. Wallpapers were familiar papers from my diary of daily abuse.

I watched the eyeless servant whom I recognized as Greg trying and failing to set up what was supposed to be my dinner. I wasn't going to eat it. I wasn't going to eat anything in this place.

Seeing him spill the red liquid all over the table and the floor has awakened something in me.

Everything that happened since I found myself in this place came at me at once. Anger and fear and frustration and despair - all mixed together. I didn't know what I was doing. I didn't know what was going to happen. I just... I just felt so helpless.

I took a bottle of red liquid from his hands and smashed it against his head.

"Shut up!" I screamed. "Just... shut up! Useless freak! Go and leave me alone!" I continued smashing his head, each plea and apology just angering me more.

"Hard to deny it, isn't it?" The familiar voice interrupted me mid-swing.

"What?!" I shouted before realizing who it was and taking a step away from the woman with my face.

"Me," she said coming closer.

I held the broken bottle threateningly at her direction, but she didn't pay attention to it, going to the now bleeding servant prostrating himself before us and stepping on his neck. Metal boot fell hard, and the servant began to choke.

"This world is broken, you know," she said in an almost gentle tone. "Even such a pathetic thing as you can dominate its denizens. But I'll fix it. In the end, everyone will bow to me. Nobody will look down on me. Nobody will be able to threaten me. Nobody will betray me when I had their necks in my chains."

She twisted her leg hard, and the servant turned into red mist which quickly disappeared.

She looked at me and smiled.

"What a wonderful world that will be," she said. "Now eat. It's good for your health."

She stepped into the wall, disappearing into the ink that covered it.

I let the broken bottle fall on the floor and sat heavily on the bed, burying my head in my hands.

I still didn't understand what was going on. I couldn't do anything. I was helpless in the control of powers I couldn't comprehend.

But... Wasn't it always like that? Ever since my mother died, did I truly have control over my life? Her life was taken by an accident. My friend was taken by Sophia by means unknown. My peace of mind was taken from me by their efforts. I couldn't even eat lunch where I wanted to, forced to hide in a bathroom stall.

Maybe she was right. Maybe I was pathetic. Maybe I should just step down and let her do what she wanted. How could I stop her, anyway?

I was useless.

"Taylor?" a voice suddenly said from behind me. It had the same echo as the voice of my counterpart, but the speaker was different.

I turned around and saw...

"Emma?" I said. No, not her. She had yellow eyes, just like the woman with my face. Another surprise from this place. Another way to torment me. I was too tired to really care.

"Oh, God, Taylor, I am so glad to see you!" she said excitedly, trying to hug me. I pushed her away and stood up, searching for my broken bottle.

"Look," she said, "I know you have no reason to trust me, but please, I am begging you, come with me! We don't have much time, but if we act quickly, we can escape her! Your Shadow, I mean."

I looked at her, not moving.

"We are on the same side," she pleaded, reaching for me but stopping when I took a step back. "Please. She wants to capture and torture me. Please, we have to escape this place."

Did I really have a choice?

I sighed.

"How do we do it?"

She smiled at me, relief evident on her face.

"There are empty spaces in the walls. She can't see inside. That's how I survived. We just need to open a crack in one of the mirrors."

"Mirrors?" I asked. I didn't think I've seen a single mirror at all here.

"Yes. Any mirror on the wall will do," she said pointing at the paper on the wall closest to her.

"I don't see any mirrors. Just paper," I said.

"Huh?" she said, confused. "The cracked mirrors are everywhere here. Walls are covered in them completely. Don't you see them?"

"I only see paper," I said. Was it some kind of cruel joke this place was playing on me? Tempt me with an opportunity to escape, then deny it from me?

"Well... I..." she said hesitantly. "Maybe... you can... follow me?"

I shrugged. "Let's try it."

She reached for the wall and placed her hand on an empty spot. There was a date written above it, but no actual writing.

"Wait," I said. "Show me those cracks you were talking about. Point at them."

She looked at me and nodded. She pointed at more empty spaces. Dates, but no writing.

There was something similar between them. I frowned and thought about it. Those were... There was something familiar... Yes, I got it. Those were the holiday dates. Of course. No school meant no abuse meant no writings.

I laughed, a broken nervous sound.

"Taylor?" Not-Emma looked at me.

"Nothing," I said. I reached to the wall and tore the empty space. It expanded, shifting the paper around it, though not breaking the writing, and a dark narrow passage was revealed to me.

I stepped inside, Not-Emma following close behind and trying to catch my hand. The wall closed behind us.

There was no visible source of light, yet I could see in shades of grey.

"Oh, Taylor," Not-Emma said carefully stepping around me to lead the way. "I am so, so sorry for you. For what you have suffered at the hands of your Shadow and for what you went through before it."

I looked at her as we started to walk in the dark corridor.

"But please, you have to believe me, it wasn't me! It's my Shadow! She has replaced me, pushed me into this world just like your Shadow wants to do with you. I would never do to you what my Shadow did!"

I walked in silence.

Time lost its meaning in the dark. I didn't know how long I was walking, Not-Emma's breath hot on my neck, her hand holding mine, her body leaning heavily on me.

Eventually we emerged from the corridor into a small room. There was a blanket on the floor and a tiny wooden chest.

"That's my lair," Not-Emma said. "Pathetic, right?" She giggled before looking at me with a nervous smile on her face. "I know I am weak. I am not a survivor, like you. All I can really do is hide in the shadows of those stronger than me. But... I have you now, right? You cared about me, before my Shadow replaced me. You even tried to care about her, too, even though she tormented you from the first time you've met. Look!"

She opened the chest and, after some rummaging, produced a flute. My mother's flute that was stolen from me such a long time ago.

"My Shadow threw it away, but I found it!" Not-Emma said. "I kept it safe because I knew you'll come for me one day. Because we are friends. Everything will be fine now. With you in the lead, we can take our Shadows. We can take our lives back!"

She handed me the flute.

Could I really trust her? After everything that happened, could I risk opening my heart to her once again?

Did I have a choice in the matter?

Did I have a choice in anything?

Hesitantly, I took the flute from her.

And broke it.