Things could happen in an instant. The things that she trusted, that she held onto as solid and as real… could simply not. All of a sudden, nothing was real. Everything slipped through her fingers. For the second time in her life, it felt as if Salem had lost everything. Third time. Three times, she thinks. Every other year she’d been alive, something awful happened. It was as if the ghost brought chaos on her heels. Nothing could just fucking go right. It was enough to make her head spin with the weight of it all. The pale eyed phantom couldn’t keep things straight in the ruckus that had become the inside of her head.
She’d been kicked out once. They’d tossed her out without really thinking, making sure that she felt as unwelcome as possible. Salem had learned from a young age that family could be shit. It made sense. It made all the sense in the world for her not to trust. She didn’t trust because of them. It was rare. All in the same, the phantom had fallen in love with this world. Pan first, her brother, and Seven too. Weylin came later, and the Jester, and all the rest of the men that were strange and wonderful in their ways. Scots… yes, she’d loved them all. She’d loved Jaye too, maybe even most of all. A mother. She’d always wanted a mother. A mother she’d had.
The sky had fallen, so maybe she’d been kicked out twice. The sky had fallen, and that set the ball rolling into her new world. How lovely it all seemed to feel. Salem could feel her world as it was, making things whole again. It had made her whole again too. More than whole? Yeah, she thought so. Weylin had been there to take them hunting, and she’d been one of the ones to sink her teeth into a bison. Yes, they had made their move here together—all of them. It’s what made them special. Glorall was strong, and she could feel it. She’d helped make it that way. They were resilient. She was resilient.
She wouldn’t be kicked out a third time. This was her home, and she’d be damned if anyone came close to touching that. Weylin had been taken. She hadn’t made eye contact with his insufferable queen since the feast. A stranger had come and gone quickly, and taken Natalya with him. Jaye… Jaye was what stung the worse. Her mother… the only one that had ever bothered to try to raise the odd little phantom was dead. It didn’t make sense to her, though she’d spent a long while staring at the den where the woman had once slept. Nothing was registering right. Pan hadn’t been around in weeks. From the inside out, Salem shakes.
Yet the phantom won’t go. There’s something in here that’s stuck here. It’s the place that chose her, Weylin chose her, and she will not leave. Above all, it’s been her place. It’s always been her place. The pale eyed ghost sits outside Jaye’s den, a spot that she’d frequented while the elder slept. It’s in the back of her mind that she hears the faint breathing that she knows isn’t real. She knows that there’s no one here any longer, and that the scent on the wind is the only reminder she’s got. Though the kill was still fairly fresh on the beach, Salem hadn’t touched it after the feast. She’d hardly moved.
Breathing hurt worse than anything she’d ever known, aside from the sheer shattering of emotions inside her. It was almost better to have the physical pain there. No, Salem hadn’t moved from her post. She hadn’t seen the healer, she hadn’t done a damn thing. If anyone wanted her, it was clear where the creature would be. The phantom didn’t doze, but sat entirely awake. There would be no sleeping now, even as dusk drew in around her. This wasn’t a time for rest. This wasn’t a time for anything at all. Salem isn’t helpless, but she’s arrested in her emotional hurt.
salem. my name is blue canary |