"Have you ever killed someone?"
Do you ever get that feeling, when you are sitting in a room full of people, and you're laughing and talking, but it's isn't you? Like it's you, your body, your mouth moving but you are just a passenger. Watching from the sidelines as someone else speaks for you because your whole world just stops.
That's me, right now.
My head is spinning, and I wonder if they see the false laugh in my smile or hear the tremor in my voice as I answer, acting confused. "Excuse me?" Her lips curve upwards into a cruel smile as if she knows something. But that is impossible. Everyone who knows is either dead, sworn to secrecy, or like me - not wanting that shit to get out.
My mind is playing its wicked games on me as usual. I am seeing things not there. She knows nothing.
She swills her wine glass, the red wine matching the red of her painted lips, her jade green eyes glinting, and fake blond hair hanging around her shoulders. I want to lean over the glass table separating us and rip out those stupid extensions as she says, "It's a simple question. You Romanii can speak the common tongue yes? Not that gibberish I've heard that your kind speak."
I place down my glass, crossing my legs, I sit up straight. "You have five seconds before I kill you, making the answer to your childish question yes." She stutters and the others watch in thrilled silence. They love drama. I hate it. "Excuse me, do you know who I am." I can't help but roll my eyes. It's always the same bullshit with these deimosi.
"You're a rich bitch, I'm guessing from Sector 1, who has never left home before and you feel like slumming it with us lower sectors to piss off daddy dearest." I hold up my finger and pick up a shot, just watering my throat you know. She says nothing.
"Your mother is an alcoholic, not that I'd judge her since she has a daughter like you, and she probably fucks your teachers so you get good grades." Whistles sound in the group and the woman, or should I say little girl, stares at me, mouth agape. Her confidence vanished as if it was never there."You are an only child, whose mother has never loved you and a father who never wanted you."
I stand, walking around the table and sitting beside her. She leans away but I lean in, my lips next to her ear as I say just for her, "You are a waste of space, and about to be a dead waste of space. That is who you are, Brin." I say her name wrong just to be petty cause I can be.
By the fear in her eyes, I am glad to realise that she got the message.
She huffs in disbelief, grabbing her stupid purple purse and wobbles away in her ridiculous heels, stopping at the door, muttering over her shoulder, almost as an afterthought. "My name is Bria." I hope the grin on my face is as feral as a wolf's as she disappears down the stairs and the others burst into laughter.
I just take another shot, the childish feeling of success at being a bully quickly fades, the words like ash in my mouth. I can hear them laughing, and whispering. Someone to my left murmurs, "do you think she has killed someone?" While some guy laughs, "the only person Illyeria is capable of killing is herself. Did you see the wildfire and bliss she knocked back earlier as if they were nothing? Hel, look at her now. She may be one of those seraela but she's a woman. Her kind doesn't let their women fight."
I smother the growl in my throat.
These people aren't my friends. And I wouldn't want them to be.
I stand up gaining each and every eye. "You are all assholes," I announce to the gasp of a woman in someone's lap. God why the fuck do they gasp, it's not that shocking. Hel, I am only saying what they likely already know and don't care. "And since I'm nothing but a junkie, alcoholic, seraela, as you all like to whisper, I am going to dance and have fun while you can all go fuck yourselves." I turn for the same stairs Bria just left through. "Never fucking talk to me again, bloody deimosi."
The pounding in my head grows loud, the ghosts of my memories dancing through my mind as I stumble down the stairs, cursing the heels on my feet, at the old pain flaring in my body. With each step, words shudder through me. I want to scream in frustration. Those fucking assholes. They don't have a decent bone in their body and yet they call me worthless. Hel at least I'm loyal, the same can't be said for them.
Goddess where is Tia, she should be here by now.
As I burst onto the ground floor, the pulsing of the music fading as I shove my way through the writhing bodies of the dancers around me. The once soothing sound now added to the throbbing in my head. I stop, heaving in a breath, grounding myself with the music. I am stronger than this.
Instead of pushing the sound away, I let it wash over me. Let it wipe my mind blank. Let the notes curl around my body, let the bass thrum my heart and let the rhythm take control of my limbs. Males and females that I had moments ago shoved away now gather round, eyes glittering with lust and finally, I let myself breathe.
Giving myself to the music, my body twisting and turning, hands thrown in the air, my eyes shut, at the euphoria burning in my chest, the sweat sliding down my skin. The old aches slowly cease to exist.
The Bliss drug from earlier kicking in.
Hands run up my body from behind and from in front and I bask in the feeling, at this moment, in dancing, that these hands don't make my skin crawl like it often does. The damning question of that hateful girl slowly disappearing with each moment. With each touch fluttering up my body I just let go, grinding into the body behind me.
Smiling at the groan I earn, I roll my hips, my whole body melded to the man behind me. Soft hands brush over my body from the woman in front of me, her eyes foggy as her hands rest around my neck and we all dance with each other. Bodies moving as one, my body caught between their lust for me and for each other.
The man at my back curls his head into the hollow of my neck, peppering kisses down the column and along my bare shoulder, teeth nipping lightly. The women, blue eyes, so like hers I notice, as she leans down her mouth crashing into mine, matching the need now lighting my blood and I lightly bite her lip and she moans, her head thrown back as I kiss down her neck length, the male kissing the back of my neck, almost close enough to it that a shiver goes down my spine. But not enough to throw me from my lust.
Thankfully my dress covers that.
Smudges of my bright sapphire and magenta lipstick paint the pale skin of the woman and I lean back, head now resting on the chest of the man, eyes closed, as they both take turns in devouring my lips, the male arching me up to meet his hungry mouth, before offering me to the women. A team as they both seek the pleasure I offer. Both now biting and licking at my neck, the pull of my skin telling me that my throat is littered with bruising kisses.
Opening my eyes, I look into the haze of the club, at the bodies around us. Many are in similar positions, others watching in envy and hunger. I let my eyes dance other each person, my body alight with the knowledge that I am the reason for that envy. That I, a human, can command the gazes of Arcane and humans around me alike and choose to turn them away or accept them.
I smile, letting a small moan grace my lips earning matching ones from my dance partners. The man and women stop kissing me and lean over me to kiss each other, and I roll my hips into the man while my hands stroke the lithe body of the woman.
A heat hits me, like a spear in my chest and I glance up, looking for the culprit. My body turns rigid, hands fall slack at my sides, as though a bucket of ice water has been poured over my head as my eyes meet orbs of crimson. That recognition sparking in them no doubt mirroring my own. Though his in surprise and mine in fear. He starts moving for me with ease, no one daring to obstruct his path. In a panic, I remove myself from the man and woman, pushing them together and bolting away from them. From him.
Ignoring their shouts of protest.
My shock and fear cause my rushed steps to falter in the ridiculous steep of my heels and I crash into a waiter, his tray of drinks drenching me. The warm stick of it slides down my dress, dripping off my fingers. In horror, I look down at the red staining my hands. The stench of it crawls down my throat and I gag. 'She killed them.' A forgotten voice whispers in my ear, and I spin wildly looking for that voice, but only confused and annoyed eyes of watching clubbers meet mine.
He is getting closer, eyes wide. Ignoring the slick feel of the, hopefully synthetic, blood coating me, I sprint for the exit, the people now giving me a wide birth in an attempt to avoid the red dripping from me so it doesn't splash onto their perfect clothes. Looks of amusement and disgust follow me until I'm bursting out of the club, a shout of protest from the bouncer and entering people as the door almost smacks them.
But I don't care and I don't stop. I'm not strong. I'm a coward. My skin itching to be cleaned once again as I feel their eyes following me, their hands reaching out.
I crash into someone. Looking up, pale eyes meet mine. He smirks while his companion pushes me away. "What the fuck are you doing seraela," that familiar voice hisses. Brin. Bria. "Fucking junkie," she mutters, dragging her male companion away. He looks at me over his shoulder, eyes calculating but I'm already running.
I run as fast as I can, feet hitting the ground with such force it's a wonder my heels haven't snapped or that I haven't broken my neck falling. I don't ponder on the thought, my legs stretching, arms pumping, breathe puffing out at the stitch in my side. Goddess, I suppose I can blame the alcohol and drugs for my lack of endurance tonight. If Tia was here, she would snap at my heels and make me run faster, punishing me with extra miles. The thought is almost enough to snap me from my memories.
Almost.
Reaching my frenzied destination, I almost fall to a stop, panting, as I unstrap the heels and kick them off before jumping on the sand, savouring the feel of my feet sinking into its softness for but a moment before I start sprinting again, not stopping until I'm hurling into the sea.
The icy waves crash into me, urging me back but I only push further, letting the water soak me. Letting its glacial embrace seep into my skin until I can no longer touch the bottom and I am floating.
Swimming further into the stormy water, I dive into her anger. Deeper and deeper, colder, and colder. The familiar song of the sea wrapping around me. I let her lullaby calm me, feeling at home in a place that will kill me.
Closing my eyes, I stop moving and let myself sink, let myself feel as I scream and scream and scream my pain into the sea, the sound drowned out, the air gone from my lungs and I start choking. Panic hits me, all thoughts of the past gone. Numb and void.
Just like I wanted.
As blackness begins to overtake me, strong arms grab me and pull me upward but the black already claims me and everything slowly fades into a buried memory.
Ikar Words
Seraela: actually means, of the wandering lost, but those who are not Roma use it as a derogatory term towards Roma People. They think seraela means thief or something of similar context. Because of the none Roma use of this word, the Romanii no longer refer to themselves as Seraela as they once did, but as Romanii, Roma or Rom.
Deimosi: a term meaning none Roma. It is not an inherently derogatory term but is often used to insult a none Roma person, as a deimosi uses the term seraela to insult a Romanii person.