The Royal We
By Britt Noonan
Keep this scene inside your head, this broken scene that is neither fantasy nor real, this scene that has gagged and bound all three of us into this repetitive hell that we cannot escape from. You, him, me, the royal we. Your anger, fists, premature nuclear blast, the explosion causing an aftershock and left my body weightless as my self-respect flew through the air and cracked its head on my peeling wall, dying instantly. The real me is left alive, barely breathing, sliding down the wall while staring at you, knowing one day the radiation oozing out of you will give me the most painful and deadly cancer in the world.
Its okay, cancer would be a blessing at this point. My body has seen its better days, it’s been had and used too many times, been drooled over enough, its sick of the attention. My mind is on vacation, my common sense committed suicide years ago. My soul, dying within my body, had found an escape route. My soul abandoned me and is now floating through space, looking for a new host.
I hope it finds somebody.
I wish it luck.
God knows it needs it.
None of this is a surprise; this had happened before and will probably happen again. My body had adjusted to having no soul; it had replaced my missing soul with drugs, sex, and enough alcohol to burn down a whole city. My body is now just a twisted sexbot, here to please and pleased to be had. My mind had tried for years to control my body, control its urges, but alas my mind got too stressed out so I had no choice but to give it the break that it desperately needs. After all, there are rules about overworking, employees don’t like that, and I do not need to be sued anytime soon.
My mind is due back at work in a week, its best to leave all arguments or discussions until then.
I am still on the ground as you take a step toward me; with every blink of your eyes I could feel the blasts of fists, little bombs hitting my broken body. I do nothing but sit there, staring into your eyes, you want me to feel fear but that’s not going to happen. Like I said before my mind is at vacation right now, relaxing on the beaches of Hawaii , and apparently, it kidnapped my feelings and forced it to go with it because I have none. That’s for the better I think, feelings have always been such a workaholic, it had been burnt out for years, a vacation was long overdue. I hope it's spending its free time relaxing.
You take another step toward me, I lay broken on the floor, he hesitantly runs toward me, I have forgotten about his presence. You don’t stop walking, he completely stops, inches away from me, you are breathing like a starving wolf, he is breathing like a frightened animal that is cornered, you look deadly, he looks scared. I should care but all I could do is flop flat against the ground and stare at the ceiling that was cracking from the earthquake that your own words caused, your vicious tongue making the whole room shake. Some type of rubble is falling from the cracks and I cough frantically as I accidentally inhale some. I could feel it in my lungs, circling in there, taking up room that I needed for air, my lungs burning from the lack of it. I cough loudly, my lungs burning terribly. I stare up to see you above me, how did you get here so fast?
His blurry face is in my face now, barely a shadow, his silhouette protecting my eyes from the ball of fire that is behind him, the light. His quick bursts of air feel like feathers falling on my broken skin, tickling it gently, showering me in the gentle lightless material. It’s almost like a gentle hug, a hug that is quickly washed away by the tsunami that managed to lock him in its grip. As he is swept away and all I see is your blinding face.
I don’t really care, I feel numb. I just want to sit here and stare at the ceiling for a bit. A knife which felt like a scorpion stings me on my side, you are yelling, but I can’t hear what you are saying, all I could hear was this loud screech as if we have a baby owl in this room. I honestly don’t care what you have to say, I never really did, so do what you came here to do and leave me alone already, I’m already bored with you. I have better things to do than dealing with your needy face.
Like a cockroach you don’t leave, just stand there staring down at me, and honey I am begging you to stop with the bombs already, my poor body cannot take the force of the impact, its broken enough, and unlike my lucky mind and feelings, my body can never go on a vacation. It’s overworked, overstressed, and lately had been losing its grace, but yet it keeps on working. Why does it deserve this cruelty? It’s not a dummy, it's constantly breathing, doesn’t anybody care?
No, I guess not, nobody cares about the body. The body is just a poor worker, struggling to support itself, having no time or money for comfort, its nothing like the middle-class feelings. Yes, the feelings…poor dear, overworked and overtaxed; paying for the welfare that the poor body demands, and now kidnapped and stuck in Hawaii …I wonder how afraid it must be. Then the mind, the spoiled rotten mind, it doesn’t have to deal with anything. It bitches about how unhappy it is with life but it’s so sheltered that it doesn’t understand how bad things can actually get. It can decide to just stop working when things gets too much, just turn itself off, letting the body and feelings deal with the hard things.
My attention is drifting off again, I guess tonight its on vacation as well, poor damn body…its left to deal with everything by itself…I could feel the sweat on my forehead, could feel the needle, the sneaky little snake that was curling up around my arm, cutting off circulation, making my blue vein pop out, the fang marks sticking into the vein, a fatal bite, nearly invisible in the large purple bruises that are surrounding and eating it.
You are kneeling over me now, your nails digging into my skin, the claws cutting flesh, and red liquid falls down my arm. You are screaming again, I decide this time to just ignore you as I stare up at the ceiling and watch as the cracks get bigger.
Suddenly there are two of you, well not two of you exactly, but two people. I forgot about him again. He is beside you, I feel him touching the bruise on my face, below my right eye, his soft and gentle touch burning my skin, I could smell the skin rotting as he takes his hand away. My reddish white shirt is feeling incredibly heavy and my arm stings badly…wait I’m feeling? Does that mean my feelings have returned? Did it escape kidnapping clutch of my mind?
Angelic soft arms wrap around me, I could feel my body resting against someone’s body, and I’m unsure if the person is an enemy or a friend, you were never really my friend, were you? Is he really my friend? Does it matter? My head is supported as I stare at the ceiling, watching as it gets closer and closer to caving in, my tongue feeling brittle and dry as if all the liquid that I have left is quickly oozing out of my body, and my heart beating so slowly that it hurt. The effects of an overdose.
I glance toward the side, toward my unkempt bed, my holy kingdom, one that had been attacked and conquered from the neighboring tribes, the vicious Vikings. The kingdom falls quickly, one swing of the Trebuchets and the castle shattered as if it was made out of glass. The soldiers were immediately killed, citizens broke and shattered were sold as mere slaves, the royalty abused and murdered. My once white and now stained red bed sheets forever a painting that showed how quickly the battle was lost. The walls of the kingdom, barely able to stay standing are still bleeding, the blood seeping out from the cracks that the attackers made.
I mourn for the lost kingdom.
It's always sad when great kingdoms fall.
My arm is stinging; the snake must have punctured my veins, the poison is rushing through hallow tunnels, the traffic within instantly suffocating due to the toxin gas.
I mourn for the innocent lives
My side still is stinging from where the scorpion stuck its stinger through my skin, leaving behind a soft brightly forever glowing robe that hung down from the wound.
Chocolate comforts and rainbow dreams do nothing but draw me in, I could see you, smiling, laughing, beautiful, and handsome, with royal charms and a toy crown. I could see him, his royal status forever invincible; it could withstand a hundred nuclear bombs, and still be able to stand strong. Dreams rot back to this humble nightmare. Your toy crown is broken now, the cheap paper coming undone, falling off your head and onto the ground and melting, floating in its own filth just like you. His royal status is threatened, my kingdom was his alley and now my castle is gone and taken over by barbarians.
I wish him the best of luck.
I know I don’t need to worry.
His kingdom was never in danger to begin with.
What’s that movement…oh yeah…I keep forgetting about him. He is close to me but yet the giant blob is blocking him, making me forget his presence until I feel his lava flames touching my already scarred skin, making it blister. The blob is really a funny sight; I can’t help but smile as I reach out for it. You draw back attention by releasing your breath, blowing vicious words, a tornado into my bruised and cut face, the air digging into the newly dug canyons, releasing an eerie sound that just keeps echoing and echoing.
The blob is moving now, it’s rolling on the floor like a bowling ball, and like a bowling ball it aims for the pins and hits it perfectly, the table shakes at his impact. The blob wins the game, it gets the prize that is waiting patiently on the table for him, the phone, and the blob holds it lovingly in his arms. Without looking at you, I could feel another twister of anger coming out of you, I numbly turn my head, my mouth open widely, as I stare at the huge twister coming in my direction, knowing it was too close to run, somehow I know that tonight running would do no good, the twister will win the game this time. I sit with my white flag and flinches as the air hits me, nearly pushing me backward, the force more powerful then I expected, my mind blanks, I see white, a headache kills, my already cut side stings.
You win, I lay sprawled out on the ground, my side stinging from the impact, as the snake nips at my veins again. My head hits the wall, a bear trap of pain, you chuckle like a witch. Your face is hazy now, demented, all I could see was your tattoo, purple skull that shined on your pale skin.
Suddenly he is here again, emerging from the quickly moving water, his hair and clothes soaked. He looks angry; it’s not a good look for him. He jumps forward, grabbing the snake around my arm, and fights with it, struggling to throw it off. I watched amused.
The snake fights back.
He almost got bit.
He wins.
My veins are still bleeding, my arm feeling lightweight but yet heavy at the same time. What a funny feeling. He grips my arm, and a word hurricane hits me as he yells at me, spit and quick bursts of air hitting my face. He is mad; I guess I deserve it this time, he doesn’t hurt me like you did. He is too beautiful of a person to do that. You are beside him, your eyes signaling another nuclear explosion coming on, yet he doesn’t seem to even notice your presence. In fact, neither of you notice each other, you don’t even interact with other or looked alarmed with the other person is doing, it’s like both of you are not in the same room at the same time.
You two are not.
There is a difference of light, a difference of shadows hanging off the walls, a difference between the causes of the anger that both of you radiate. You left hours ago, he just walked in, you left me wishing death, I ran to the needle, he came to save me. Yet you two are here together now, only me can see, always for me to see.
This scene is not real nor is it fake. It’s as real as it could be but was also twisted and deformed. The perfect prison for the three of us. The prison walls get smaller every day yet here we are the perfect prisoners, never escaping even as the lock of the door had been broken and cracked open for days. No, here we are, the royal we, together and apart, separated yet connected. This is where we are going to stay until the execution chamber is set up and ready, and our royalty, present, and past, strong and broken, will forever be forgotten in the tombs of history.
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