There was a nothingness, as the sun set.
It set outside. It set indoors. Gently, as the sun melted into the horizon, the world ended. At least for her.
When the sun set, it set in her heart.
Red stained her dainty fingers. Fingers that always used to smell of charcoal and graphite, used to be coloured with gorgeous paints and pastel shades. She wished with all her heart the red was only that- colour- and didn't have some darker meaning behind it.
There was some darker meaning behind it all, she guessed.
It felt slick as she wiped her hands on her dress, but the blood wouldn't go. It wasn't just on her skin, not anymore. She felt it bury inside her, like a worm, mingling with her pure body and turning her dark from within.
Blood. She couldn't escape that fact, not in a million years.
Blood.
The scream didn't exactly begin, and didn't exactly end. It felt like this moment had just been waiting for time to catch up, lying in her future like a lion. This destiny had always felt like it was coming. This fate. This end.
His end.
Maybe that was why she didn't cry. Maybe, inside, she always knew. But she screamed- high and long and piercing. For a long time, that wailing didn't stop.
The wailing didn't stop as the body turned slowly cold. The wailing didn't stop when the silverly light of the moon entered the room, spreading out on the floor like a glittering ocean, spilling over his carcus and making the blood shine. She could see the place where Gothel had stabbed him, through his coat. The blade had pierced the skin, and then kept going. She tried not to look at the punctured heart. She tried not to imagine how it had felt. She tried to ignore the fact that by now, he had been reduced to nothing. Less than nothing.
Another body. A few bones.
The wailing didn't stop.
There were books everywhere. On the floor, on the bed. There was even one in the wardrobe, but she decided eventually to leave it there. If it was in the wardrobe, it must not be that special any way. And the girl had no extra space in her bag.
She'd only packed the essentials- her most beloved brushes and sketch pads, a saucepan, a few books, and her wash bag. Even though her hair was shorter now, that didn't mean she wasn't going to care for it. Protocal had been drilled into her so deep that she doubted anyone could pull it out.
The only one that could is DEAD, a voice whispered, DEAD DEAD DEAD.
"Stop it," the girl hissed at herself, " Just stop. There's no point in thinking about it. It's DONE."
Dead. Dead. Dead.
She clawed a hand through her mousy hair, almost trying to drag out the thought. But it stayed, and like a gong, it rang, over and over and-
"STOP!" She screamed. "STOP STOP STOP!"
She mustn't think to hard about it, mustn't listen to the voice. If she did, she had little doubt that she'd find herself next to... to him. Dead, on the floor.
Where was the knife?
She didn't know why she started looking, only that it mattered. She needed to feel the hilt in her hand, the blade slice through the air- she needed to know she had the power to end a life, same as Gothel. But most of all, she needed to know that she could end her own.
Death was freedom, in the strangest way.
He's dead.
"Stop," She whispered, " Stop."
She searched the whole house before entering the room where he lay. She hadn't dared go in there, worried not only about what she'd find, but that she would never come out again. It was almost like the room was filled with a poisonous gas. Walking in would be so much easier than walking out.
But she needed to find the knife.
It took a mental effort to push the handle down, open the door. A muddled stench of iron and festering flesh filled her nose the second she entered. Gasping, she drew back, but the smell was there. Shoving down her revulsion, she crept back in.
This time, she went further, so far that she could see him out the corner of her eye. A dark smudge on the golden wood.
The worst thing was seeing the dried blood glitter in the sunlight. Almost two days had passed since that moment when the world had ceased to exist. And it was a feeble idea, but maybe finding the knife would help everything spin back into focus. Finding the cause of the incident had always been the answer. It would help her heal.
Dead.
Her knees went weak, her head began pounding. Her heart fluttered like a bird caught in a cage. There was no air left inside her- quick pants were the only thing that kept her standing. She had to get away from the blood. The stench. Everything.
And that was when she saw it. The metal. The curly hilt, the leather. As if in a dream, she wondered towards it. Cast aside, like the body of the boy she loved.
But then there it was. In her hand.
A knife. The knife.
She could do it. She could do it now. The image was clear in her head- the quick swipe of the blade, the trickling from her wrists.
Then, darkness.
It was then that she finally looked back at him. Looked, really looked. Stared at the lines of his face, the crease of his eyes, the slack of the jaw. The smile playing on his lips.
He had said that she was his dream. He would've talked her out of this, if he was alive. He would've hated the idea of her dying because of him.
He'd said that people were looking for them. That he wasn't liked. People had hurt him, when he was younger. The idea of him ever feeling pain made her flinch.
She looked back down at the knife.
People had hurt him. Her Eugene.
This knife could hurt them back. She could be it's master.
The knife could hurt them. The leather was soft on her fingertips.
Before, the thought of murder never would've crossed her mind. Before, when she had golden hair and lime green eyes, the world was her oyster- she just needed to reach out to get the pearl.
She needed to fight for the pearl now. Her hair was dark, her eyes were colder. A type of angry green, the colour similar to alge growing in a pond.
She was no longer weak.
The knife.
" I am Rapunzel." She breathed into the muggy air, " And I will not rest until he is avenged."
Well, that was intense. Welcome to this crazy story! Because I've been told my writing is unclear, let me explain.
Instead of Eugene living, he dies. Rapunzel is preparing to leave, and then remembers the knife, and decides to kill the people that hurt Eugene.
Thank you so much for reading this far, I really appreciate it! Any reviews are WELCOME, I love hearing what you think, good or bad! Feel free to follow or star- again, thanks for reading this baloney!
Next chapter will come as soon as I work out whats going on! :-)))))))
DinoRhino :-)