Authors note: Oh my goodness! If I had known which kinds of reactions this would cause, I would have done it much earlier. No, honestly, there is about one half of my reviewers who tell me they liked the first four chapters and were shocked by the last one – and there is the other half who wants more of that "dark turn". All I can say to both of them is, that I had considered not posting that fifth chapter, but felt both, that I had to write and post it, I needed that for myself. And even you "constructive critics" will have to admit: it surely made things more interesting (if not to say complicated). Nothing gets you more comments than a little shocking display!
I keep staring at his face. How could I not have noticed, not have recognized? I must have been blind, not to know. But what good does it do me now?
Shame! Deep, hurtful and undeniable shame befalls me. It hurts more when someone who saw you in your glory, gets to know you in your downfall. I could have dealt better with any stranger, unknown and never seen again. But Charming knows who I once was, he has met the loyal queen who was devoted to and in love with her king, who deeply cared for her daughter and defended her kingdom. And he has seen, no even worse, felt what I am now, the wretched, desperate and lonely creature I have become, that monster who has been hiring him as a prostitute.
A deep urge to hide hits me, to crawl into a hole and never come out again. To be anywhere but here. I run to the bathroom and lock the door behind me. Then I quickly redress myself, I can not bare to look into the sink mirror. When I return to that damned room, I try to be the queen again.
Charming has had enough empathy to get dressed too. He cockily stands there and watches me. But he fails at hiding his change. He is miserable too. I remember Charming as an arrogant, too self-conscious young boy, wholey dependant on his mother, almost in an oedipus-kind of way. Since the death of the fairy-godmother, he seems to have grown up, not only has he turned to this kind of profession, but he also seems more serious, bitter even.
"Im sorry about Fiona. She was a nice girl." When I try to search for the honesty of his words in his dim blue eyes, I only find truth. He does not expect an answer. So I give none.
"I will not tell, you know." I guess my demeanor had been grateful then. And I somehow believe him. I open my purse and take out a hundred. He reaches out with his right hand. Then his eyes glaze over and he stops. "What for?" he asks bitterly "for the service or for me being quiet?" "From one haunted person to another" I answer. Again he chuckles dryly, but now he takes the money. I turn to leave.
"Will we meet again?" the little boy almost sounds hopeful, desperate for a face he had known in his prime, for a womanly voice that does not tell him how big he is, for a person that listens to him. For a moment I am tempted to a "yes". I never would have believed to actually like Charming one day, but I do. "No" I state firmly. "I am sorry" I hope he understands. "Goodbye" I open the door to leave, to run, to hide. "Goodbye Lillian" he quietly says.
"And did I promise you too much?" the bartender inquires. I do not answer. All these haunted, lost faces seem to gather around me, they do not seem evil any longer. I am part of them now.
"Tryin to hide from all the things I feel, but this pain is jus too real, it aint easy to be me" It hurts to know that noone has ever understood me better than Captain Hook. Suddenly he stands up and clonks towards me. His deep black eyes meet mine and I wonder if he is about to make some small-talk. "Poor lil girl. What are ya doin here? Ya dont belong. But neither do ya with them. Are ya lost?" I shiver. This man gives me goosebumps, knowing he is right.
I stumble out the door, feeling his black eyes in my back. I almost fall off my horse, still I try to ride as fast as I can. But where? I know I need to go back to the castle. Harold will question where I have been. And what will I answer? I want to tell him immediately and apologize. And I want to deny and cover up my shame. What shall I do? I cry again. Fiona, what shall I do? Help me? Tell me?
As soon as I pass the gate, Shrek comes towards me. What a sad, lost, little ogre he seems to be. After I have jumped off my horse he comes and envelopes me in a nearly bone-crushing hug. At that moment he is just an overgrown child, in need of comfort, of someone who tells him that everything will be alright. But I can not be that someone. Because I know that everything will not be alright.
"You are leaving?" A needless question that I ask. He simply nods as he lets go off me. "I just wanted to" he stares onto the fields, probably already wishing he was out there in the wilderness where he thinks he belongs. "…say goodbye." I can only imagine how this goodbye might be the last one. "You will take good care of Rose, wont you?" I almost smile faintly, he has decided to leave his daugther a name as a farewell-gift. "Of course." My voice is hoarse and husky. " Tell her" he sniffs "that her daddy loves her and that she is so pretty and" he breaks off. "Youll be her a good granny, I know" A granny, something I have never been before, it sounds so strange, when just a week ago I had been a mother, which I am not any longer, but instead a grandmother. "I will try my best" What else shall I do or say?
"No need to worry, Madam queen" puss-in-boots assures me "we will take good care of him. By my honour." "Sure we will, Ill let nothing happen to good, old Shrek!" donkey exclaims. I seem to watch for hours as my son-in-law slowly walks out of our kingdom, his faithful pets, no friends, to his left and right. "Take care of him, darling" I whisper towards the sky.
"Where have you been, Lillian?" the dreaded question. The only thing I fear even more is my answer to it. "Does it matter, Harold?" I know that trying to stall time is useless, if any given effect, than it only serves to make him angrier. But do I deserve less?
"Yes, it does! And do not tell me that you were at her place!" Her place – Fionas favourite spot throughout all of our kingdom – the old willow tree by the lake. "I have been there" he croaks. "I have been staring at that damned piece of firewood for two hours." I gulp. "Afterwards I told a servant to cut it down." A shiver runs down my spine, the coldness, the finality in his voice.
I remain silent. Through all the shame, the pain that eats away at me, the ache that twists my heart, the urge to yell, to scream, to fight, to cry.
"Maybe it is better if you do not tell me where you have been. Maybe I should not even want to know why you have been at the poisoned apple." It is not like Harold to slip like that. He has done and said it on purpose!
"You have been watching me." I know I deserve his distrust, but I can not help the feeling of anger that rises inside me. I remember the young man at the bar, who had been staring at me, why had I not recognized his face as that of one of our servants? "You had no right to do that!" I am a caged animal, trying to bite the fingers of the imprisoner who gets too close.
"I do have the right." The green face starts to redden. "I am your king and your husband." He quietens down a bit. "I was concerned when you left the funeral so abruptly." "Oh, you did not seem to care for any living person a lot at that time." But neither did I.
"How can you say that?" Dont you know that I," he turns around "no, I do not need to justify myself to you!" "And neither do I need your supervision" I retort. "If you want to protect me from reality, Harold, you have failed miserably." I storm off.
I almost run through the castle, like a haunted ghost, restless. In a room I find my granddaughter, a nurse softly laying her into the crib. She gestures me to be silent, little Rose is asleep. She looks so content, so peaceful, I feel even worse in her presence.
Finally I dare entering our bedroom. I want to apologize. I really mean to. He is sitting on the desk, staring at my crown that is placed there. "Harold, I" But when he turns towards me, I know his anger has not ceased to be. "Lillian" he sounds tired now "you can go out and sleep with the whole kingdom, if you want to, but do not come back into this room and tell me how much you love me." The breaking point.
"Maybe I should move into another room." I suggest, trying not to show my hurting heart, hiding it behind my icy voice. "I do not need a bed, anyways" he sounds bitter. He hops off and leaves the room.
Sin gnaws at me. Pain. A lonely aching. A need for comfort when there is none. The loss, the sadness. Today I have not only lost my daughter, as if that had not been enough, I feel like I have also lost my husband. All that remains is an empty, silent bedroom. I need voices, laughs, whispering, not this silence.
I think of taking my granddaughter to my room. My perfect, beautiful little Rose. But when I enter her room, she is still peacefully asleep. Harold is snoring on a chair next to her crib, looking like some obscure kind of toy. Suddenly I feel that I have no right to be here, that I am a stranger to my own family. Silently, not wanting to awaken them, I turn and leave, a ghost in my own castle.
