13: The Girl With Snakes For Hair

The world seemed to slow. Every second was an eternity. That split second of a moment reminded me of another, the moment I let my family go. When life seemed to slip through my fingers. When nothing I did, when nothing I said, thought and hoped for came true. When I felt despair course through my veins like poison. When I was paralyzed, stationed in place to only wish and never do.

The further the rickshaw went, the harder it was for me to breathe. And it was not due to the fact that every inch of my body ached. I let go, and as easy as it was that simple reflex weighed on me worse than pulling a giant baby in a rickshaw.

My feet were racing towards the rickshaw before I knew it. Once I began descent, there was no going back. I could feel the rock through my worn and torn shoes, they poked and punched the sole of my feet every time my feet smacked the earth. My knees were weak and wobbly. If I were standing, I wouldn't have stood for long before I crashed to the ground. My arms flailed about like loose strings, barely hanging onto my shoulders. I wouldn't have been surprised if they had fallen off. The pain was so suffocating that I was convinced that if my brain wasn't bleeding by then, then I was already dead.

I reached out to the rickshaw, screaming in pain, regret and determination. At least a meter separated it and me. No matter how much I pushed forward, the distance was barely closing. I knew that if I couldn't, no if I didn't stop the rickshaw, I couldn't go on living with myself knowing what I had done.

Heart banging against my ribcage like it was trying to fight its way out of my chest. Every breath took as much effort as every step and my head screaming at me in pain. I never wanted something so bad till that moment.

The rickshaw stopped mid descent. And so did I.

"Are you alright Mo?"

I felt air plunge into my lungs, like I had just broken through the surface of water, coming up for air after holding my breath for so long.

Esmeralda hovered over the rickshaw on her broom. "Can you go on?"

I couldn't move my arms. I couldn't move at all. It wasn't me. Esmerelda waited for my reply. The words spilled out before I could think it through. At that moment I didn't want to think. I was exhausted as it was, having to mull over anything at all would knock me out.

"I can," I said.

"Are you sure?" she asked. When I looked back at her again, her eyes widened slightly.

"I'm sure." I promised myself something then, if I didn't get this big little baby to his home, I wouldn't go home until I did.

My hands regained feeling. I grabbed hold of the rickshaw and again it began descent. This time I could control it. It moved at my pace. I didn't count the steps; I didn't think at all. The only thing running through my mind was, I needed to get him home.

~~~

Sometimes I wish pain could last longer. Not because I liked it, or because I wanted it, but because it was normal. Cuts and bruises disappear within minutes even seconds. Strains and aches don't last long enough for me to remember. But migraines were migraines and that I appreciated. Well maybe not always.

Rolling over in my makeshift plank bed, I couldn't sleep a wink with my head feeling like it was on the brink of destruction. Whatever the nurse mage gave me eased the little aches left, I just wished it worked on my head as well. In the midst of my mind's turmoil, I heard a voice, well two voices.

"How's your friend doing?" Came a familiar voice from beyond the thin curtain that separated me and the other knights: Lance.

"She's holding up. She's strong," Philip replied.

"She is quite strong," Lance said, amusement laced into his tone. "You say her father is a mage, what about her mother?"

I stayed as still as possible. Is it eves dropping if they're talking about you?

Philip didn't answer immediately, but when he did he didn't lie as I had expected him to. "She was adopted."

"An orphan?" I could practically see the surprise on Lance's face. "What an odd young woman..."

Someone came along and told Lance the witches wanted to see him. Lance was gone and that left Philip. The curtain slid past and the stool screeched against the floor.

"I know you're awake," Philip said.

I sat up and faced him, trying for a smile. But he didn't return the smile. I couldn't work out the emotions on his face. Confusion? No, perhaps tiredness.

"How are you?" I asked.

He smiled the tiniest bit. A storm brewing behind his eyes. "I should be asking you that."

"I thought you knew how I was?"

His smile fell away. "Look Mo," he said, looking anywhere but me. "Lets end this. You're not cut out to be a King's Guard."

My jaw lowered. I couldn't believe what I had just heard. "How could you say that?"

"You shouldn't push yourself too far."

"I don't care." And I meant it. "I'll push myself further and further, if it means I'll get even the slightest chance of returning my family. You don't have to believe in me but I won't quit."

"You could've died out there." He was indigent. "I promised Jara I'd help you. And I won't let you die in my care."

"If I die, you move on. You don't have to pretend to care. It'll be all my fault so you can clear your conscious of any ounce of guilt you might feel."

My words lingered in the air. Icy and still. At that moment, I saw no flaw in my reasoning.

He laughed bitterly and stood. "Your right. Pretend I said nothing." And then he was gone.

If I didn't feel like shit already then I felt like a worthless speck of dust, then. I was hit with a migraine worse than the first. I couldn't help but wonder if my skull had cracked open, or if my brain was a war zone where cannons were released, swords clashed and fists met the face of its owners' enemy. Complete and utter chaos.

I closed my eyes, mustered a little hope and wished the aches would go away. I discarded my thoughts in hopes that it would ease the pain. I'd rather my mind have been void and empty then incapable of reasoning.

Just before I could doze off a chilling sound reached my ears. Though that sound didn't seem to have come from far. It sounded like steam seeping out a kettle. But reminded me of danger. My eyes snapped open and connected with that of a serpent's.

Before I could let out a scream a hand clamped my mouth shut. I thought I was seeing double because another snake slithered up my arm; but that was not, the sensation of its scaly belly against my skin couldn't have been conjured by my throbbing head. Before I knew it a dozen more snakes rose into the air, their tongues flailing, the noise ringing so close to my ear—I feared my end was not too far.

And then I saw her. A girl. Her eyes hidden behind a piece of cloth, her hair was made of—or was simply snakes. Her lips parted into a grin. And the snakes seemed to gain more energy. Her hand that was over my mouth dropped. She dragged the wooden stool forward and took a seat ever so comfortably. I sat up hesitantly and carefully, keeping my eyes only on her.

"Are you a gorgon too?" She asked, rather excitedly. "It's been so long since I've met another gorgon!"

I swallowed. "A what?"

"A gorgon!" she repeated cheerfully. "Snake ladies, turn you to stone with one look."

"I..." I was too mesmerized by the movement of her hair to speak.

"Down here," she reminded.

I looked at where her eyes were supposed to be. "You're telling me you can turn me to stone."

She nodded. "I can but I won't."

"Then I'm not a gorgon," I said. "I've never turned anyone to stone."

"But I saw your eyes when you were on the hill, they were like snakes' eyes! And you have scales as well!"

"I've never heard of a snake that breathes fire," I muttered under my breath.

"But I guess you're not," she sighed. She stood and turned to leave.

"Wait!" I called out.

She turned, tilting her head. "Hmm?"

"Who are you?"

She smiled. "My name is Kombai, but most people call me KB. I guess you can call me that too. See ya!"

But I never saw her again, at least not for a while.

A/n: after reading pjo and researching Greek mythology like a total nerd I just had to add a gorgon. Coz bruh, they're awesome.