Agathaâs cottage was just a little further down the stream, as promised. It definitely didnât lack the ambience of witchiness. The wood was a deep reddish brown, old and with hints of moss on the outside. A stone pathway led up to a low porch with a wicker rocking chair creaking in the breeze. Out front was an herb garden. Stones held chalk markings with each herbâs name, though how to pronounce each one was a mystery to me.
The door was old-looking, with a beautiful stained glass window in the middle. I carried Iris up the step and Agatha pushed open the door for me to go through. The inside reflected the decor of the outside. Strings of twine crisscrossed the ceiling, hung with dried herbs. The fireplace bricks were black with soot, probably hadnât been cleaned in decades, and the furniture wasnât much better.
However, one corner of the house was immaculately clean. Shelves were filled with jars of herbs and liquids, each jar neatly labeled and kept clean. A black pot hung over a small fireplace. A single chair sat nearby, dusted and smelling of soap somehow. Agatha led me to the chair, motioning for me to put Iris in it. I obeyed, hestitanly. She stirred and mumbled something in her sleep, but it was too quiet for me to make out the words.
I kneeled down and grabbed her hand, squeezing it tight.
âI love you, Iris. Iâll be here the whole time.â I whispered, before letting Agatha start her witchcraft.
She gathered bottled herbs and solutions, dumping seemingly random amounts in the pot. The mixture simmered and bubled as even more odd looking ingredients were added. Agatha stirred and stirred and stirred the mixture while I sat with Iris, watching it all silently.
âWeâre going to need to have her sit up a bit and smile for this to work.â Agatha told me, bringing a cup of foaming liquid over. I didnât understand why Irisâs position was necessary but I did as I was told.
âHey, Iris, can you look at me?â I questioned, leaning in and stroking her cheek. She smiled lightly, but didnât open her eyes. âIris, please? Itâll make you feel better. Please, for me?â
âThis is good enough.â Agatha decided, âAs long as sheâs smiling it should work. Agatha came over, titled Irisâs head back and tipped the contents of the cup into her mouth. She gripped my hand tighter and I whispered comfort to her.
âHey, hey, itâll be okay. I love you.â I felt her hand stiffen in mine and looked down. I couldnât comprehend what I was seeing. Her soft, pale, skin was gone, replaced by smooth, gray rock. I looked up slowly, almost shrieking in horror at the sight before me. Iris wasnât Iris anymore. Rather, she was a shiny, marble statue. I stared in disbelief. The girl I was in love with wasnât a girl anymore, just a carved rock.
Tears fell from my eyes, splashing the cold hard wood of Agathaâs floor. I turned my head to stare into her eyes, rage boiling inside me. This time however, it was my own rage, not some false rage at Iris.
âWhat have you done!?â I screamed at her, angry at Agatha yet again.
âShe isnât in pain anymore, is she?â Agatha asked calmly, smiling sweetly.
âSheâs not alive either!â I yelled, breaking down sobbing. Agatha just stood there, keeping that sugary smile on her lips, watching my pain. I couldnât stand her cruelty masked by kindness. I bolted out the door and took off running through the woods.
I raced through the trees, not stopping for the branches that cut my skin or the rocks that tripped me up. I ended up sprawled on the forest floor multiple times, but each time I just got up again and continued my race through the woods. My head pounded right along with my heart. I ran for miles, finally collapsing by the side of the stream, completely out of breath.
After a few minutes of heavy panting to catch my breath, I looked up and scanned the area. I was surprised to see the rock Iâd first found Iris on. She was sitting there, dress muddy, face tearstained, looking for all the world like the perfect fairy tale princess, soon to be rescued by her prince charming. But none ever showed, they never do. Not in the real world.
Because the real world isnât a fairy tale, and fairytales arenât the real world. There isnât always a prince waiting around the corner to save you. Sometimes, you need to be your own prince. But sometimes, sometimes a princess in need is rescued by another princess. Her princess charming.
I stared at the rock, picturing Iris there again. She was beautiful staring off into the stream as she did. And that look on her face as she scanned me, deciding my trustworthiness? Priceless. She came into my life so unexpectedly, but so perfectly. She completed me, made me whole. Just as mother had once told me Alexander would. He didnât though, Zara had, and then Iris. But now they were both gone, and I was broken again. Incomplete, a fragment of myself. A girl doesnât need a boy, but sometimes, a girl needs a girl.
My girl was gone. Sheâd taken my love with her, my laughter, my smile. Sheâd taken my happiness, my compassion, my excitement. Sheâd taken my safety, my emotions, my purpose. But most of all, sheâd taken my will to live. Robbed me of it, stole it right out from under my feet. I no longer felt right in this world without her. My life felt empty, meaningless.
I walked over to the stream, looking into the clear glass water. I studied the bottom of it, smooth rocks and sand endlessly filtering through them in the current. It wasnât deep, I could probably walk from one side to the other without getting my chest wet, but it was sentimental. So sentimental. It was where I had first met Iris. Where my heart ignited and my life had begun. Now my heart had been doused with water, the flame put out with Irisâs death. It only seemed fitting my life be put out that same way. In the same place where it had all started.
I crawled into the stream, submerging my entire body in the crystal blue water, and sunk under. I never came up again
This is not the last chapter, there's one more. Also, I'm really sorry about this...