Chapter Four: Die
I've counted the dots on the ceiling three times. Each time it's different. 999. 789. 1027. Clearly I'm bored. My throat hurts now. Maybe it was because of all the screaming I did.
No shit. I think to myself. It took about five minutes for the pain to really set in after I stopped running at the bars. They must be magical or something because they wouldn't budge an inch no matter how hard I tried. Granted, I do believe that I am strong enough to take down a set of ancient jail bars. At least I think I am. Anyway, I was a bit happy knowing that I had found one of Jareth's weaknesses, but mostly I was in a lot of pain. I decided to kill two birds with one stone and scream out all my agony. I screamed a lot. Even after the physical pain ended, I still screamed.
Not a soul came to see why.
It was then that I got it. The almighty, all powerful Goblin King was scared. He didn't know what to do and that made him afraid. I'd seen that once before, right before I won. He was so desperate, so afraid. I love knowing I can do that to him. Maybe I'm power hungry. Again, I don't really care if I am. Power is amazing, believe me, I know. Jeez, maybe I really have gone mad. Oh well, at least someone will listen to me. Wait a second...
It's been a good amount of time since I stopped making a scene. I wonder where everybody is. I look down at the ground around me, trying to spot something that can be used to entertain myself. I brush away some of the straw that covers the entire floor. It's disgusting and I can't help but wonder who was in here before me. I shake my head, I don't want to think about it. I push away some more of the straw, squinting and trying to see. Seeing in the dark was never a very good skill of mine.
I let out a tiny little shriek when I accidentally stab my palm onto something. I draw back, holding my injured hand. I roll my eyes as I inspect the cut, it's just a little scrape. Stupid cuts are such drama queens, they bleed like crazy and end up only being the tiniest nicks. I put my hands back on the ground, digging through the straw to see what injured me. My eyes widen as I finally uncover a long, sharp blade with a hook at the end. I wonder just who the Hell was the idiot that put that there.
I lift the weapon up closer to my eyes, trying to get a better look. It really is a wonderful knife. The blade is made of a thin, strange metal. It's sharpened to perfection to, hence the cut on my hand after barely making impact. The hilt is beautiful too, carved out of black stone with a dull silver finishing. It looks very expensive, but when I bring the blade closer to my eyes, I catch sight of something engraved there.
Ille qui pecuniam suam non... It reads. Wonderful, Latin, because I would totally have a clue as to what it meant. I wonder why it's here, what use could a prisoner have with a knife.
"Still can't figure it out?" I jump a little bit and turn towards where the voice came from. Out of the darkness, the burning light of a flame ignites out of thin air and standing before me is yet another goblin. I instinctively move away but do not let go of my new found weapon.
"Figure what out?" I ask, taking in it's ugly brown skin, tufts of white hair and beady black eyes. I makes a sound like a cross between a laugh and a groan of frustration. It really is as awful as you'd imagine that to sound like.
"The point of the knife." It replies and I become aware of the thick, cockney accent the little creature uses. I look down at the weapon and then back at the goblin, who sighs. "You really are thick. Makes me wonder why the Master likes you." I roll my eyes. Jareth hates me. I made him lose, he wants me dead, right? What he said to me before I left wasn't true, that was just to throw me off.
"He doesn't like me." I reply and the disgusting vermin has the guts to snigger. I want to punch it, but I also want answers. The punching can wait. "So what's the point of it?" I ask. The little goblin looks to me in confusion.
"The point of what, dearie?" He asks. I growl and grip the bars of my cage.
"The point of the knife!" I exclaim, my voice echoing off of the walls.
"Oh, right. The knife is there in case you feel like killin' yourself." The goblin says casually. I sit back on my heels.
"So Ja- The Goblin King, puts these in here in case you want to commit suicide?" I clarify. My brow furrows and I clench my teeth when the goblin just slowly claps instead of answering me.
"So she does have a brain." I'm starting to get very annoyed. I don't know how Jareth can stand being around these things! "And yeah, it's there in case you want to die. The Master likes to give people the choice." I nod, looking down at the pretty knife. I turn it over in my hands, looking at the writing.
"Do you know what this means?" I ask, holding up the blade. "Ille qui pecuniam suam non... I think it says?" The goblin shuffles a little bit closer but still keeps its distance. Smart goblin.
"Yeah, the Master had that carved in. It says 'He who takes his life pays a price...'" I cock my head to the side.
"What's the price?" I ask. I am rewarded for my inquiry with another snigger from the short little pest.
"Well, if we knew, it would take all the fun out of it, wouldn't it?" It asks. I throw the knife down on the ground.
"Suicide is not funny!" I protest and the little goblin sobers up. It goes deadly quiet for a few minutes and then decides to speak again.
"I know, Miss." It says in a quiet voice. "But you might as well have a laugh if you want to die." I don't get a chance to reply, the goblin turns on its heel, snuffing out the airborne flame and scurrying out the door. It's just me and my new knife again.
I pick it up, testing its weight and then point it towards my chest. Slowly, I bring the hooked tip closer to my hear until its pressing into my skin. I can almost feel how good it will be to just finish it. I stop, setting the knife back down on the ground. I don't want to die.
That would be too easy.