CHAPTER 7 - The Cracking Glass of an Event Horizon
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Alice turned on the shower, only one button, always the perfect temperature. She discarded her clothes that smelled of old sweat and utter despair before stepping in. Sweet summer rain kissed her skin, the scent of petrichor and flowers. When the water washed over her neck the tile tinted ever so slightly pink. She cleaned herself quickly, but couldn't bring herself to turn of the water.
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CHAPTER 7 - The Cracking Glass of an Event Horizon
It had been days since Sera left, and Alice couldn't care less. In fact, just the thought of seeing the tall celestial made her burn. Alice was desperately angry but with no way to resolve her feelings all she could do was lash out. Multiple times she completely trashed the room she was in, breaking everything and anything that could be broken, tearing up the bed with knives, destroying the mattress. She would cry and scream, cursing Sera, the universe, Mirri, anyone and anything that had ever done her wrong. Exhausted she would curl up in a mess of bedding and sob herself to sleep.
The room was always immaculate when she woke up, like nothing had every happened. There was always food enough for the day sitting on the counter waiting for her. Alice didn't know if Sera herself had fixed everything or if it was just some type of magic. But it made her fume thinking Sera could have been tiptoeing around her as she slept.
At the beginning Alice ate enough to fill, her as of then growing appetite. But as the days passed and her destructive depression grew, she ate less and less. Until, from waking to sleep she ate nothing at all. The effects of starvation didn't seem to bother the demoralized catgirl. Why would it matter if she became weak, if she withered away? Alice didn't care, Sera wasn't there, and the people who could care would never glimpse her face again. As the days passed, Alice withered into less and less. Her ribs became ever more visible, cheekbones pronounced in a sickly way, what little pink was left in her face drained away every time she stood up. She didn't have much fat on her to begin with after the transformation. In the midst of self-cannibalization Alice's body was moving from lithe to skeletal.
What little energy she had was spent on ceaseless masturbation. She didn't care if Sera was watching, not anymore. And she partook in the act to an unhealthy degree. As her depression grew and grew, coupled with the progressing starvation, the thing that didn't abate was her lust. Of course she cursed her new body, but there was little she could do about it now, and in her self-destruction she didn't really care. Red and raw she spent her days in bed, wishing she had something other than her hands. She tried various other methods, rubbing against objects, grinding pillows, but she was too weak. A single arm was the extent of Alice's endurance.
The constant masturbation never brought her any joy. Sure there was pleasure, and momentary relief from lust. But more often than not she would just end up sobbing, tears obscuring her view of the ceiling. The closest her fantasies ever came to bringing her a semblance of joy was in her imagining of Sera. She utterly dominated the deceitful celestial in a manner even more brutal than what Mirri had done to Alice. The things Alice did, possibly would have done given the chance, were the manifestations of her degenerating state, filthy. Still Alice was never one for revenge, and in brief moments of clarity she would almost feel bad for thinking such things, almost.
Generally though, Alice's thoughts were directed to Emma, the only woman, the only person, she could say she truly loved romantically. Unlike Alice's fantasies with Sera, the one's with Emma were beautiful and romantic, erotic and soft, panged with longing. Alice knew it was a bad idea to ponder such things. Each and every time she finished, she would feel worse than before. Tears would flow and her ebbing screams would echo. A sick addiction to her own pain brought on by her unending lust. Stuck in this room, her prison, Alice would spiral into oblivion, and there was no one left to catch her.
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After a few days Alice woke to a spark of self-preservation. Her searches had been cursory at best. But maybe there was a way out of this room that she hadn't seen, tucked away, a crack. To say Alice jumped out of bed would have been a lie. Even sitting up made her dizzy, but she still managed to stand on unsteady legs. The search was slow, she took frequent breaks to catch her breath, retch in exhaustion, or dim the stars she was seeing.
She pulled the bed away from the wall, searched for vents and painted over doorways, but there was nothing. Still no windows, no passages, no way out. To her dismay, there weren't even pipes leading away from the toilet or bath. What would have been a comfy studio apartment seemed to be completely self-contained, a specimen box without air holes. Every seam was perfect, everything was aligned with laser precision, walls and ceilings painted perfectly, not even a scuff mark on the floor. Alice was truly trapped, there was no way out.
That spark of continuance was snuffed out rightly. Her eyes glazed over as she ended her search, hope gone she shuffled her way back to the bed. For days she continued her cycle of sleeping and getting herself off. Every so often she would drink some water or use the washroom. Dehydration was painful, and she was not yet in a state to lay in her own filth. Still it wouldn't be long before bed sores formed, inactivity and sweat compressed between her back and the bed.
She went far past depression in those few days, an utter abyss mawed inside her. Lust was ever present as always, but the only emotion that managed to escape the growing black hole was loneliness. The fantasies of Emma became less and less erotic. Though still compelling enough to get her off, sometimes all they consisted of was a flirting conversation, or a lasting hug. In her current state Alice realized that she had the ability to forgive most acts of cruelty. Though she would never forget what Sera had done to her, Alice was sure the seraphim would be enough to shatter her loneliness. It showed in her fantasies, rarely did Alice dream of dominating the celestial, her thoughts progressed towards tender. Nearly a fortnight alone and degenerating quickly she just needed another face, to see something other than this room. Eventually she stopped crying after her hand stilled, there was nothing left.
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It was approaching three weeks since Sera had revealed the truth and left, and two weeks of refusing to eat. Most of Alice's days were now spent in a half conscious delirium. Plagued by lust she did what she could but was more frequently pulled into sleep than she could find relief in finishing. Utter self-contempt, an existential arrest. There was always food, but she never even glanced at it in hunger, only taking note as it changed. She used it as a clock to tell the passage of time.
One night, after waking to a particularly horrid nightmare involving a kingdom of cages, Alice came to a banal decision of finality. The shaking that came with fried nerves and atrophy was stilled. If there was to be one last act, her enfeebled form would at least allow her grace. She did not think as she walked over to the drawer that held her instrument of autonomy. The choice had been made, a bed was an unworthy throne if this was to be her kingdom.
It was the same knife she had used to rip her bedding to shreds and quarter her mattress. Alice knew just how sharp it was. Still she ran her finger along its blade, it would do. Again she walked back to her bed without thought. She did not shake nor fear. If she could leave she would, and then she would die outside crushed like intruding ant. If she couldn't leave, then her end would come just the same. There was an emptiness she just couldn't take. Alice slipped under the covers and tucked herself in comfortably, though she didn't quite know why. Maybe it was the odd beauty she had witnessed at open casket funerals. A long sleep.
Alice rested the knife safely on her stomach, clutching it with both hands. "Emma?" she asked, knowing there was no chance of reply.
"Alice?" Her friend, her love, asked back to her.
It wasn't real, and Alice knew it. She desperately wanted to say goodbye, even if it wasn't true, she would have her way. Remembered imperfectly, Emma lay beside Alice in a similar position. She wore a sad smile as the two women turned to face each other.
"I am so sorry..." Alice said as tears began to blur her vision. "I just wanted... I just wanted to see you one last time."
Emma just looked at Alice with a loving smile. She nodded as she spoke "I know, thank you for thinking of me."
Alice sobbed quietly as Emma's form warped, straining to stay present. "I loved you, I love you. I love you. I love you..." She tried to continue but couldn't think of what to say.
"I love you too Alice. More than anything. I would have spent the rest of my life with you if you had asked." Bittersweet, Alice's subconscious tormented her as Emma spoke.
Alice sobbed louder, tears streamed down her face. A moment of doubt formed from Emma's words. "Am... I... am I doing what is right?" She asked Emma. Asked herself.
Emma smiled reassuring and sad. "You do what you have to do. I will be here with the whole time."
Alice let go of the knife with one hand. "I love you so much" she said, reaching over to hold Emma's hand. But when her hand met the place where Emma's should have been it just passed through.
Emma's form warped and faded, leaving Alice alone on the bed. "And I love you..." quiet and warbled her voice carried away.
Alice's breath caught in her throat. "Goodbye." She croaked out, desperately clutching at the air where Emma's hand had been.
Alice wiped her eyes, and steeled herself. Her hand was still as she brought the knife to her throat. Abandoned for weeks and locked inside. If this was truly the only way out then so it shall be. High on her neck, just under her jawbone Alice pressed the sharp blade. She knew the problems a shallow cut would bring, her muscles tensed to apply as much force as she could. Some people claim to see their whole lives flash before their eyes, but Alice only saw a few things, her family for a brief moment, and Emma. The blade dug in as Alice prepared her path. A small drop of blood cascaded down her skin and into her pillow. "Goodbye." She said again.
Alice froze in her backswing. Loud and booming the air compressed, shattering glassware. A wet, sucking, visceral pop. Above her, kaleidescoping, a tesseract of complex shapes morphed and swirled. Utterly incomprehensible, the sight caused the blade to slip, a stream of blood followed the drop, pooling into the fabric. A terrified scream pulsed from the morphing phenomena that twisted above Alice. Parts of the strange shape began to materialize. Alice thought she saw skin, Olive. Flesh, muscle, eyes, twirling, morphing, sickening. A shape that could turn inside out from all directions at once. The scream continued, an echo from every direction.
