"Kill him." Jamil's words ring through my ears, echoing in my mind. My thoughts are scattered and my heart throbbing. I just have to numb it out. All thoughts; all feelings. I take a step forward towards the boy. The sword is in my hand now. I thought that it would give me a sense of power, but it doesn't. I just feel awful, an overwhelming sense of hate. Is this what our Lord feels everyday?
For some reason a thought comes running through my mind. 'You deserve this.' I glance around, wondering where it came from. 'It's all your fault.' What was that? I thought back to what made me a slave in the first place. My ignorance. 'Your selfishness.' It won't shut up. 'What would they think if they saw you now? You haven't changed a bit.'
He's at my feet. Face bruised and bloody, clutching his chest. Tears pour out of his eyes, and he seems to be trying to say something. I feel my body trembling as what I assume later to be a flashback starts. My senses playing tricks on me as I relive moments of abuse by him, by my master. So much that I could scream out, if.. I wasn't still paralyzed with fear. I continue to stare down at the commoner. Instead of him, it seems it's me on the floor. Trembling. Sobbing. 'It's all your fault.'
"Kill him for me, (y/n)." Jamil whispers in my ear. I can't defy him, not because of these chains on my feet, but because of the hold he has on me. For every cut, bruise, and broken bone he inflicted upon me. Every night he defiled me. His sweet words and his lies. His insults and manipulation. The scars that would decorate my body from his actions were nothing compared to the scars on my mind. On my soul. I turn my head just enough so my gaze can meet his. Bright green eyes burn into mine. He demands coldly, "Do it."
My eyes trail back down to the boy at my feet. My fingers grip tightly into the hilt of the sword. "...your fff.." I try to speak, but I'm overcome with tears. My jaw's shaking with the rest of my body as if I'm losing all control. Jamil's hand on my shoulder calms my body but not my mind. My eye keeps on twitching, and my fists still clench with slight jerky movements on the sword. Everything around me drowns out. When my eyes meet his amber ones, I'm no longer nervous, no longer feeling. "It's all.. your fault.." I whisper to him. I hear Jamil let out a chuckle, taking a step back. I raise the blade, "You deserve this!" I scream. I can see Jamil smiling from the corner of my eye.
I slam the sword down towards the boy, but as the hilt reaches my chest the blade vanishes. I'm brought back to the moment. My body still shaking; my neck still dotted with sweat. Shocked, I turn my head. Down the hall I see the boy: the Magi. He doesn't look angry, in fact, his facial expressions are relaxed. All eyes are on him as he walks towards me. No one moves; no one utters a word. He kneels down in front of the boy, running a hand through his hair. "Alibaba, are you alright?" How is he staying so calm?
"Y-yeah.. I'm fine. Be careful. That girl.. she's unstable." Taking steps back to Jamil, I turn to him for answers. What now? He doesn't say. He's watching the boy.
"Give me back my flute." The magi demands, holding his hand out. Jamil smirks, shaking his head.
He crosses his arms over his chest, "I can't do that. You've taken sides with that.. peasant." He spits the word out like it's poison.
"Give it," the boy demands.
He watches the boy carefully, turning away, "I have no use for you." If he needed his flute so badly, he was powerless in the eyes of our lord. Jamil drags me along. "Morgin! Follow me!"
"Give it back!" Aladdin shouts, holding up the staff in his arms. A bright light fills the room and my Lord turns back to watch.
He watches the show like a child receiving a new toy. The scene is incredible yet frightening. Jamil's features light up as Morgin goes to defend us. "Make me."