He had promised her eternity, and now all she has was this. This was a hateful blank canvas, contained in a hateful one windowed room. Save for the stained mattress on the floor, the walls were bare and void of color while the floor was littered with paint smears. Sarah Williams laughed as she spun around the small room in utter abandonment. Tonight was her 19th birthday, and what a night it was. She had gone out; looking for companionship and what she found was her dealer, faithful as ever. So, she had shot up and now she was here. Spinning, laughing, and hating. Her eyes flashed as the street lamps from outside shone into her small sanctuary. Her only home since the "wicked stepmother" had finally lived up to her name, and threw her out at 16. She supposed that maybe it had been her immature behaviour that had gotten where she was now, but at 19 she was older than both her parents. Now she had seen reality, and now more than ever she wanted her labyrinth back.
Her high was slowly fading and Sarah was beginning to feel the fear and sadness that came along with that. Frantically she rolled up her sleeve and shot again, sighing at the blissful oblivion. She turned once again to that hateful canvas and made her decision. She took an elastic off her wrist, and bound up her long brown hair as she turned to gather her supplies. She collected the paints and brushes from under her pillow with a smile, pausing only to stare outside momentarily as the street lamp flickered. She slowly squeezed the paint out onto her palette, a strange contrast to her racing dark thoughts.
Green, blue, purple, white, brown...
"Oh. There's no red." Sarah mused aloud, the first words she'd spoken in hours. The street lamp flickered again, casting a momentarily dark shadow over her soon to be masterpiece. "Fuck." She whispered, as she walked over to the window. Without flinching and without reason she thrust her fist through the glass. The shattering sound caused her to laugh loudly. As she spun around the blood from her hand splattered the canvas. "Oh. There's the red."
The bulb from the lamp outside exploded causing the red on the canvas to turn black. Like eyes, Sarah mused. The white of the canvas was startling white, bright like wings. And soon the bird was in the room with her. A giant barn owl, his wing s spanning the walls, crossing eternity. Swooping low, landing at her feet, transforming itself into a man.
"Or maybe it was always a man flying around, and I'm just way too fucking fried to realize." Sarah giggled, as her eyes tried to focus in the dark. When they finally did, her giggles died as did her high.
"Sarah? " The man's voice was a rich baritone, with a sultry British accent laced with fear. "What has happened to you!?" His gloved hand reached to stroke her quickly paling skin.
"Jareth?" She gasped. "Jareth!?" she laughed. "Oh, the mighty goblin king, come at last! Come to save me I suppose? From this wretched life I chose? From this insufferable hell hole I chose for myself? Despite the dreams you offered me!? Well O' Mighty Lord, you're a little too fucking late!" she finished with a scream.
He muffled her hysterics by embracing her, her tears drenching his star coloured cloak. He stroked her hair rhythmically, murmuring soothing words all the while. His words melded into song, lulling her into a calm state. Lulling her into a state so serene, she was resentful. This feeling could never be mimicked by any drug, and she wanted it always. So she pushed him away with bloody fists, lest she get addicted.
"How could this have happened?" He asked astonished. "How? How to someone as beautiful, and talented as you Sarah?" Despite the blush staining her cheeks she replied.
"Life isn't fair Jareth, you and I both should know that." He stared back blankly, not expecting a reply so cruel, from one once so innocent.
"No. Not anymore." He whispered. "You're not so innocent anymore." He regarded her torn, bloodied appearance with pained eyes. "There is darkness both encircling and within your eyes now Sarah. What horrors have eyes so lovely, witnessed?" He paused, glancing around the room. He bent low, picking up the needle. "A substitute to my labyrinth I'm guessing?" he said with grim laughter. "Perhaps even, a gateway?"
She raised her hand to strike him, but he caught it with his own. Pulling her closer to him, he stared at her intently. She glared back at him.
"Your eyes can be so cruel, just as I can be so cruel." He whispered.
"What?" she scoffed "You only wish to rule me right?"
"No." Jareth said as he pulled her closer still, resting his chin upon her head. "Don't you see Sarah? It is you who rules me. Since the moment you entered my labyrinth you have, and I fear you will always rule me." She struggled half heartedly, but soon gave in, as he encompassed her fully. "Come away with me Sarah." He whispered, and she nodded.
When Mr. William's opened the door to his daughter's apartment the next morning, his arms were laden with gifts. Filled with paints, and easels, bright coloured tops and books, and all of which fell to the floor. They fell to the floor, as Mr. William fell to his knees beside his daughter. Her body was sprawled on the mattress, green eyes lifeless. She had left reality with her needle in one vein, a feather on her breast and a smile on her lips.