It has been a week since I woke and I am still unable to do more than sit up; everything exhausts me. Father seems to feel guilty about what he has done but my heart has hardened against him. Who could love the man who tried to kill them? Who could love the man who turned their lover into a killer? I barely speak to him and he does not try to make me talk.
I think of Oleander, the prince who promised to show me the world. Oh, he promised me cruelty but he promised wonders, too. I wonder, even as I sit here, shall I return to him? Shall I be his poisonous bride? I already have the name: Jessamine. I am the poisonous flower, so pretty and sweet; drink of my nectar and drop dead on your feet. I laugh lightly to myself. Oh, to wear that gown of petals again, to have my every step be perfumed.
To fly among the poisons.
As I sit in my bed I realise how much I long for Oleander. My memories of him are hazy. They are from a time when I lay in bed as a broken shell but also flew in a misty sky. I saw such evil those days, but I also tasted such sweetness. The belladonna berry, for instance. I tasted the sweetness of the lovely lady, I was the lovely lady.
"Jessamine," I hear my father say. "Here is some soup… if you eat you may soon be able to leave your bed…" He tentatively places a tray upon my lap and I smell the scents of carrots and other vegetables from the garden. I am hungry, I realise. I take the bread that has been placed invitingly beside the bowl and I dip it into the soup. "Please eat," he begs. "If you eat you'll become strong…"
Yes, strong. Strong enough to enter the poison garden.