She spat into the pond, creating a ripple that spread outward, disrupting the peaceful lotus lilies. How disrespectful! Except, at the moment, the young woman couldn't care less. Her insides were bubbling. Sixteen years of imprisoned torment, and she had decided—she couldn't keep living like this. Seriously. She didn't think she could hold on much longer if she stayed imprisoned in this mansion for another year. She valued her life. But she was aware that living day in and day out like a ghost kept from the world was driving her insane.
As she stood to leave, she scowled towards the bobbing lotuses:
"You stupid lotus flowers! D'you have to glow like that, like you enjoy it here or something?" She scoffed, violently kicking a stone and watching it fly away like a comet. "You suck! All of you! Everything here! I hope you all burn to death! Fuck! You!"
It would have indeed been strange if anyone had looked out of a window of the great mansion and seen this young woman spitting and cursing and kicking at a tranquil pond of poor lotuses under the moonlight. However, no eyes glittered in the windows. The only sound was the chirp of a sparrow. Perhaps it had been awoken by the girl's irritated rage.
With that, she kicked a stone into the pond furiously, whirled around, and left.
The pond was quiet in her absence. The lotus lilies stopped their shifting; their buds began to close, having no more energy to remain open in the sunless night. Up on the second floor of the mansion, the sheets were pulled angrily back up to the window. The window closed silently, and that stubborn lock clicked back into place, sealing the mansion once again.
The garden paradise lay half-consumed by shadow, looking more like a shadowy prison maze than an immortal paradise. That awakened sparrow chirped in irritation one more time, and then the paradise was silent once more.
______
By the time the sun rose, the young woman had already been awake an hour. She hadn't had a restful night of sleep in weeks — actually, years, to be honest.It was hard to fall asleep, and when she did, she had strange nightmares. When she didn't have nightmares, she woke up at disgusting hours of the morning.
She sat for the hour before sunrise by the windowsill, laboring over a tiny chest she had extracted from its hiding place beneath a loose wooden floor tile. In the chest were stuffed many strange things: dried leaves, shriveled petals, matches and tiny candles, pieces of glass.
She toiled over her palms, which were smeared with dried blood.
"Come on, Abrial," she snapped to herself. "You know this always happens when you slide down too fast. If you just hold on a little tighter and climb down with more strength, you wouldn't get stinging palms! Idiot. Don't be stupid."
She crushed dried scarlet petals on a small, flat stone with a little pestle. A sweet smell filled the room. She sprinkled the ground petal on one palm, and then the other, careful not to spill.
For a while, she sat like this: staring out over the silent paradise with gloomy, stormy eyes and her hands in her lap. Only her eyes blinked, long lashes flashing. Her chest rose and fell shallowly, as though she was almost forgetting to breathe.
Then, at sunrise, a golden halo peeked over the top edge of the fence. It brightened and lifted, turning the sky scarlet and violet and pink and sapphire in a wondrous, smeared painting. The glassiness in Abrial's eyes faded to be replaced with a reflection of the marvelous painting of the sky, shifting and brightening and beautiful.
As the sun's light finally strained over the fence and into her window, she raised her palms to bathe them in light.
A fascinating thing happened then. When the golden light touched the crushed petals on her palms, the petals seemed to shrivel into nothing, burning away like crisps of leaves in a fire. A small amount of scarlet smoke rose from her palms — only a few wisps, which dissipated immediately. Basic healing magic—the most basic of all forms of magic, all of which were forbidden, according to Abrial's parents.
When she lowered her hands back to her lap, the blood and wounds had disappeared.