Unlovely- A Tale of Madness

by Risa Fey

  Time slowed, and it felt like he dove into her for hours. She couldn’t even remember the moment he first entered her.

  After waking the next morning, Cora vividly recalled the sensations of everything they had done. Throughout the night she had forgotten her ugliness, but she remembered how the moonlight splashed over his back, obliterating his handsome face in floods of shadow. She remembered how his shoulders heaved and jerked, and how his strong arms had encircled and borne her up. She remembered how he sprawled out beside her in the afterglow, the moonlight exposing his dying erection and the silvery sweat drenched over his neck. She remembered how he toyed with each of her little finger bones, squeezing them as if he was testing how breakable they might be.

  While they had been lying together, the nightmare had gradually crept inward from the fringes. Thaed’s face—no longer silhouetted by the moon behind him—had changed to a swirling void, a dense black hole, and its core was a vacuum of Nothing trying to suck up her soul.

  She had sat upright for a better look at his face, but in that same instant the blackhole had vanished. He’d smiled up at her, caressed her cheek, and murmured, “I love you,” then fell asleep.

  That was when the dream had ended.

  She had woken to an unpleasant dampness between her legs, and an even more unpleasant headache and cold sweat over her body.

  She was alone in her own bed, but her limbs ached. The coverlet was up to her neck, and her nightshirt was rumpled down to her knees. The veil hung over the mirror, gray and blurry as a ghost. And Thaed was humming on the other side, evidently cheerful from the sound of it.

  CHAPTER 10

  CORA STAYED UNDER the coverlet past noon. She didn’t even want to move to use the restroom, although the pressure around her belly grew increasingly more urgent. Eventually, she swung her legs out from over the bed. Her hair was messy, lips chapped and bitten to blood, and her stomach hurt. Her gait was clumsy, equilibrium thrown off-kilter, and the floor beneath her threatened to capsize at any moment. She wasn’t one for drinking, but she guessed this was what getting “smashed” might feel like the morning after.

  Cora shuffled to the dresser mirror and ripped the veil off. Thaed’s humming sounded far away. The hearth on his side crackled beyond the hallway, and some of his clothes lay strewn upon the bed. The smell of fried egg and bacon reminded her that she hadn’t eaten since noon the previous day. After relieving herself in the restroom, she set the coffee to percolate, toasted two slices of bread, and padded them with heaps of butter.

  She was already too thin—she didn’t want to become even thinner for fear of her boniness disgusting Thaed. Then again… he hadn’t shown any aversion to her so far, as ugly as she already was. Maybe she was paranoid for thinking one little extra flaw would be enough to tip the scale in Thaed’s disfavor; but at the same time, she didn’t want to risk the possibility.

  She remembered the cavalcade of wonderful compliments he had bestowed on her the night before. His mouth had made love to her with his words as much as it did with his tongue and lips.

  She forgot to finish the food laid out before her.

  Am I in love? she asked herself, elbow resting on the dining table and her chin resting on her palm.

  She supposed she should have known the answer to that before last night. She certainly never felt this way before about anyone in her whole life, and it was likely she would never feel it ever again.

  You won’t get a chance like this ever again, said one of the more callous voices. You should let him do as he pleases. Be a good girl and obey. He won’t be smitten anymore if you start acting like an ingrate.

  You can tell him how you feel, interjected one of the more sympathetic voices. If you’re really this confused about how you feel, just let him know and spill your guts to him. He won’t mind.

  The imagery that flashed before Cora’s mind, unbidden, was more literal than what had been suggested: in her hand, a knife, and her bowels strewn about Thaed’s feet like the maggoty raw meat from her dream.

  Like a radio being gradually turned up, the voices loudened, quarreling amongst themselves, and jabbering without pause. Cora jammed her palms over her ears, wishing she could somehow shut them up. She repressed a sob. Crumpling to her knees near the living room, she rocked forward so that her nose and forehead were flat against the ground. The barrage of voices thundered over her like a pregnant cloud, and even the female voices among them catcalled and whistled and derided her.

  “Thaed!” She could not even hear her own scream. The squall increased so that she felt like she was underwater, drowning in a sea of all-consuming sound. “You know magic,” she implored, words being swallowed up by the din. “You can make Them leave me alone, I know you can!” Even though he wasn’t a god, he was her knight, and he should be able to protect her.

  Tears streamed down her reddened cheeks, scalding the remnants of sunburn on her face. “If you loved me, you would save me from Them. Please. Make the voices stop. I’m begging you!”

  What a shrew, muttered a voice.

  A babbling gorgon.

  Feeble cretin.

  Thaed would be better off finding a lover elsewhere!

  Look at her. She’s all demands, and no repayment.

  All trouble without the benefit.

  Thaed’s voice came booming as if from all corners of the room, “SHUT UP!” Their crows of laughter gradually subsided.

  Cora got to her feet and hurled herself at the living room mirror without thinking. It nearly toppled off the wall, but she held it in place, gaze boring fiercely into the glass.

  She realized, with a sudden coldness in her bones, that it didn’t matter anymore if she truly loved him. The fact was: he loved her, and he had defended her just now, and he was what completed her. He guarded the gates to her soul and mind so that even They couldn’t trespass his command.

  It didn’t matter to her how he had done it or why They listened to him, because he was the only one to have ever hated her aggressors. And even if she didn’t love him on the heart-level, she would gladly forfeit romantic love for his guardianship.

  Cora dislodged the mirror from the wall. Holding it out at arm’s length, she moved it around the wall, getting different angles of the other room beyond her own. Finally, she found him and pressed the mirror’s backing flat against the wall again. There were no shadows of obscurity clinging to him like on previous nights, but a light irradiated from his person like a magical fog. Not an angelic or heavenly kind of light, but a ghostly wereglow, an imitation of real light.

  “They won’t interfere anymore,” he said, “so long as I’m here.”

  Cora closed her eyes in relief and leaned forward, resting her forehead against the mirror. Her fingertips grazed over the glass, and she luxuriated in the deafening silence Thaed had created for her. She felt sluggish with emotional exhaustion, but it didn’t take her long to realize his fingers were somehow raking through her hair.

  Belatedly, she realized he must be reaching through the glass.

  Cora straightened, eyes wide—but then the petting stopped, and he wasn’t even in the mirror anymore.

  She was alone, wondering if she’d been hallucinating the whole time.

  Was she going mad? Perhaps it was best to ignore whatever she thought had just happened.

  Cora wiped away the fear-induced sweat from over her brow and then retreated into her bedroom.

  She found him waiting in there, in the mirror. A lascivious glow brightened his eyes like lanterns, and an insinuating smirk crept luridly from one ear to the other.

  Cora’s mouth opened and closed in the effort of speech.

  “You need me,” Thaed said softly, “and I need you.” The way he stressed the word was disconcerting. “I wish to God that I could be there with you right now,” and again, the way he emphasized his words sounded more hostile than amorous.

  Cora’s heart hammered in her chest. It fluttered like a trapped hummingbird behind her ribs. Fixat
ed by his sultry gaze, Cora swallowed painfully and felt his eyes groping down her body like the feelers of a cockroach. The heat in his face warped quickly into lust, and looking down was all she could do to keep herself from fainting.

  Cora closed her eyes and shuddered inwardly, feeling like bugs were crawling all over her skin. “Please, stop it, Thaed.”

  “I’m not doing anything.” His smile widened, and he didn’t blink once the whole time that he stared at her. “Or, at least, I’m not doing anything but encouraging you to acknowledge what want.”

  “And what do I want?” she challenged.

  “You want me to make you forget about what you look like. You want me to make you feel beautiful in every way imaginable.”

  Cora choked on a sob, and took a moment to recoup.

  Thaed’s blue eyes shined at the pain evident in her face. It wasn’t safe to press her any further. If he pushed the issue too far, he might arouse her dormant rebellion.

  Cora cleared her throat, and then steered the subject away from sex. “What’s your name?”

  “You know my name.”

  “Thaed,” she acknowledged. “But I don’t know your surname.”

  He arched an eyebrow at that comment. “Are you looking to try it on?”

  Her cheeks went hot, but she didn’t answer. That wasn’t exactly what she had meant, but she decided to go along with the assumption anyway. Even if he managed to read her thoughts like Mr. Philips could—if he knew she was diverting the topic away from pleasure—she knew he wouldn’t object to that sort of question.

  “So… what is it?” she asked.

  Thaed pressed his hand over the glass. The translucent barrier distorted where his fingertips touched, like swelling ripples on a pond.

  Cora’s lips parted fractionally. The hair on her nape stood up on end, and she wondered if he really had the power to reach through.

  “You know who I am,” he answered cryptically. “And it doesn’t matter what you call me. I’m called many things—” the Crawling Chaos, whispered a voice inside her mind “—but all that matters is that you do what I say. If you don’t, I’m afraid we’ll lose any chance we have of being together.”

  A chill sliced down the length of her spine. What he said frightened her, but also excited her.

  Any man who claims to love you in the future is a liar, her mother had said. And Cora wondered, had her mother been right? It’s no secret you’re unlovable, so don’t trust him. Any man who would play with your emotions like that is up to no good.

  Just the thought of Thaed lying to her made her feel crazy. He couldn’t do that—could he?—not after everything they’d experienced together.

  Thaed combed his fingers through his hair and glanced idly around the room.

  “Falling in love is scary as hell—I know,” he said. “I don’t blame you for feeling a bit apprehensive and a little entitled to some answers. But maybe I’ve come on a bit strong—too strong. I thought a girl like you would like that. But if there’s a possibility you don’t trust me even after the night we shared—”

  “No, I trust you,” she cut in.

  Thaed struggled openly to repress his growing smile. He motioned awkwardly at the room behind him. “I’m ready to invite you over, so that we can live happily ever after. I want you to be my wife. I want you, Cora. More than anything.”

  Cora thought she could feel the floor dropping out from underneath her. She was afraid he might disappear into a swirl of smoke and dreams, and only the remote memories would remain.

  Thaed’s expression was bland, and unhopeful. But he waited patiently to hear her answer nonetheless.

  He doesn’t think I will reject him, she thought. He knows I’m too far fallen now for that.

  “Where would we live?” she asked, deciding to draw out more facts about him.

  “I live in the same place as you. Only ‘mirrored’, I guess you could say.”

  “The same place,” Cora said, “but our belongings are not the same.”

  “Neither are our reflections. And yet, you and I are one.”

  …For some reason, him saying that made her feel nauseous.

  “What’s always interested me,” Thaed went on, “is how some of the people over on your side are the same as those on mine. Even our town and city names are the same, along with the politics, scandals, and current events. Mr. Philips had been a fixture here on my side of the world for a very long time, a pillar of society, well-known to all the people in our town. He was a dear man, but he hurt you, and so I burned him to death on my side.” He cocked his head. “Sympathetic magic took him out over on your side.”

  She had forgotten about that. The ashes outside were gone, and she hadn’t yet visited the town to get a proper view of the burned shop’s skeleton.

  “How did he die?” she asked. “Not painfully, I hope.”

  “He died… not as painfully as you might think. But the moment you left the shop, I lit the backroom on fire, and he suffocated in the smoke.”

  Cora felt a pang of guilt. “Suffocation is a horrible way to go.”

  “Maybe so. But it’s not as bad as burning in the flames.” There was a wicked flash of his teeth. “What does it matter, anyway? If he’s dead, he’s dead. He can’t feel anything now—unless, of course, he’s gone to Hell.”

  Cora looked outside her window. The bizarre festoon of vines was there again, dangling from moss-furred boughs. The black rootwork of trees curled over the moldering ground, netting the soil with thirsty tubers. The sky was dark. The woods were thick with the smoky cobwebs of fog. A chill whistled in through the chink between pane and window frame, and the room felt suddenly colder with that untimely winter draft.

  Like a virtuoso examining fine paintwork, Cora leaned over at the mirror. Thaed did likewise, countering her every move with one of his own.

  She might have still thought he was playing a horrible joke on her, but he had carried the farce on long enough, even to the point of making love. She no longer questioned the authenticity of his interest, even though his manner and honesty seemed more convoluted than straightforward at times.

  She splayed her fingers over the glass, touching it with a desire to break it. The glass rippled in the same way it had done before, and he mirrored that gesture as well, his larger hand covering her small one.

  I feel like a princess in a fairy tale, she thought, feeling dizzy at the idea.

  The barrier was cold as ice, sapping all the heat out from her body. It was solid, but it undulated between them, the ripples swelling outward into waves.

  Cora sat on top of the dresser, bending her knees up and leaning against the mirror with her shoulder. Thaed did likewise, grinning at her all the while, never taking his eyes from her sad and sullen face.

  They remained that way for the rest of the day, talking together about things that were unmagical, mundane, and not about love. When the conversation was exhausted, Thaed finally lapsed into monologues about how he loved her and how he knew they would one day be together.

  During all that time, Cora forgot herself. She neither ate or slept.

  CHAPTER 11

  THE NEXT DAY, Cora called into one of the local stores and ordered a slew of new mirrors. When they arrived at her doorstep a few hours later, taped in a single box and heavily padded, she signed for them without once looking the delivery man in the eye, and exchanged some cash for a receipt.

  She thought it was strange that the date on the receipt was garbled, but, thinking nothing of it, she shrugged inwardly and didn’t bother asking about it. After counting out the money, the man tipped his blue corduroy hat at her, then left.

  Cora dragged the unwieldy box into the old living room. Slicing the packing tape open with a pair of rusty scissors, Cora removed some slabs of foam and bubble wrap. She examined each mirror, unaware of how she was smiling uncontrollably. Thaed made her life complete. There was nothing else she wanted now but more of him, and she figured that once she had the mirrors han
ging on the walls, she would get just that.

  She nailed silver frames into the walls, and propped a few more on the countertops. She left a couple of full-length mirrors standing on the floor so that she could see Thaed from head to toe, placing one of the tall mirrors in her bedroom and the other at the end of the hallway.

  Cora flounced about the rooms with one of the ancient radios tuned in to a symphony of white noise. Thaed waited patiently till everything was finished, lurking in the lees beside the mirrors, letting her know that he was there with that uncanny prickle at her nape.

  Cora cleaned the mirrors obsessively, removing spots and smudges with painstaking thoroughness. The smudges accumulated quickly because of how they touched and interacted with the glass, but Cora always had a cleaning bottle and rag at hand.

  She talked to the mirrors as she went about her business. Thaed chatted back, following her from room to room, mirror to mirror, beaming winsomely at her whenever she glanced into whatever mirror he was standing in.

  Thaed was never out of sight from that moment forward. There was always a mirror she could turn to, which was why she had bought so many in the first place. She no longer felt like they were living in separate worlds, and she almost believed all she had to do was walk through one of the mirrors to get to his side.

  But that wasn’t how it worked.

  Cora tried to touch Thaed, but the glass never gave way, though it warped and rippled like permeable water.

  One evening, she sat on her knees picking at the wallpaper next to one of the mirrors. Using a knife, she twisted its point like a corkscrew into the wall, chipping away at dusty flakes and sawing into foundational slabs of wood.

  Thaed was amused by this. He watched her from an oval-shaped frame behind her, humming a song. The windows were shuttered. Evening sunlight leaked in through the louver slats like octopus arms. Thaed’s tantric hum rumbled around the walls, mesmerizing Cora with its masculine low pitch.