22

I stroke the coat for a moment and everything inside me screams that it's a trap. Of course it is. What else was Xerxes supposed to do with it? However, it would be very conspicuous if he wanted to test my loyalty like that. He didn't explicitly mention Zaret, but he doesn't need to. It is clear that this is exactly what Xerxes meant. This cloak bears the king's coat of arms. Sends clear signals. And even if I'm not sure what to do, I automatically pull the heavy fabric even tighter around me.

But instead of going straight to the dungeon, I make my way to the rooms. I shouldn't be standing here when I don't know where Platura is. So I go into my room and close the door. Take a deep breath and want to sort my thoughts somehow. It doesn't work Maybe sleeping would be best? Just close your eyes at least for a moment? I automatically look at the bed. The blanket lies rumpled on the sheet, but that's not what makes me falter.

It's that the sheet is covered in blood. From my blood And that's not the only place you can find it. There are also drops of that dark red on the floor. On the fine fabric of the bed sheet. Almost as if in a trance, I touch a drop that has landed on the mattress. This has already moved in and is no longer blurred by my touch. Nevertheless, this sight alone is enough to elicit a tear from me. Many may not understand why I am only now able to cry. Why I endure beatings, but not the sight of my blood. But it's not the dark red that makes for that salty drip.

It's not the wounds. Not the pain. But this single tear represents everything I've lost. For my innocence For the life that has passed. i lost so much I have endured far too much and my blood shows it to me now. I must be badly injured. Small wounds can never leave so much blood. And I didn't notice. Didn't even feel my wounds seem to have reopened. And so those many dark red speckles represent so much more than a simple injury.

They show that I'm broken. That I am no longer able to recognize when someone is harming me and when not. That I no longer perceive myself. And that knowledge triggers a sadness that makes my heart cramp. I know the loneliness Know it to be alone when countless people surround me. But now, now even I have become a stranger to myself. And that's something I never wanted to experience.

From now on, even I won't take care of myself. It is at this point that I realize that even I am no longer able to protect myself. My spirit has spurned my body. And that's a whole new kind of loneliness. It's the kind that shows me there's no turning back. The ice won. And it's only a matter of time before someone shatters the ice inside me into a thousand pieces and I'm broken forever. Then the shards will make me bleed from the inside out. Inflict many small wounds on me that no one sees and yet make me die incessantly. It will probably be a quiet death. One that I probably won't even notice myself.

I take a deep breath and stand up. I wish I could wallow in grief. Would like to bathe in self-pity for being so weak. But there is one positive thing about the knowledge I have just acquired. I have nothing left to lose. No fear. No mercy. For what should I fear if my own soul despises me? From pain? Before the eternal darkness? All of this is my constant companion. No escape. No rescue.

So why not take the risk of going to Zaret? And didn't even Xerxes say that sometimes the risk is worth it? And this is Zaret. My own risk. My hell and yet my only salvation. He's the only man I can breathe with. Pulling me out of the whirlpool of blackness. I am aware that this is only for a short time. Zaret is also sending me deeper and deeper into the abyss. And yet he makes me forget. And not like Xerxes. This gives me support. He shows me that the flames of hell can not only cause pain, but also warm. But Zaret gets me out of purgatory for a moment. Maybe that's an addiction that's not good for me. Perhaps Zaret will be my downfall. I do not care. What brings me a life

So I pull the coat tight around me and look around again. The window is right in front of me and small ice crystals have formed on it. But most of all I notice the snow. How this paves the way from heaven to earth. I look at the small flakes almost wistfully. Back then I loved it when the paths of the gutter were bathed in a soft white. It has always carried an air of innocence. Somehow everything looked softer. Just nicer. Today the little flakes don't look pretty to me. These stand for cold. For death. Just for everything that I despise so much and yet crosses my path every day.

So I just take a quick look at what's happening outside before I turn away. It's not important. And interestingly enough, the first step is also easy for me. Just like the second. Even when I open the door, I don't even hesitate. Shouldn't I feel bad about Xerxes? Finally he just caught me. Has given me the protection I have so often dreamed of. But nothing like that fills me as I wander down the hallway. I'm more nervous. I'm not really sure how to get past the jailer. Nevertheless, I slowly walk down the stairs. Each step pulls uncomfortably from my butt to my back. But I no longer fear the pain. What I fear, however, is Xerxes. He's a cruel man and I don't want to imagine what he's doing to me if this really is a trap. But I've made my decision. So I take another deep breath as I take the last step and step into the hallway. The same man as before is still sitting in front of the door. It's good. So I straighten my shoulders a bit and put a smile on my face. Self-confidence in the face of absolute ignorance is my strategy. And apparently it works. He looks at me. Seems to recognize me and, above all, the gaze lingers on the crest on the cloak for a little too long. So I straighten my shoulders a bit and put a smile on my face. Self-confidence in the face of absolute ignorance is my strategy. And apparently it works. He looks at me. Seems to recognize me and, above all, the gaze lingers on the crest on the cloak for a little too long. So I straighten my shoulders a bit and put a smile on my face. Self-confidence in the face of absolute ignorance is my strategy. And apparently it works. He looks at me. Seems to recognize me and, above all, the gaze lingers on the crest on the cloak for a little too long.

"Hello." I take another step towards him and in fact even I am shocked at how soft my voice sounds. As if it were completely natural for me to be here appropriated the years of prostitution.

"What do you want here." The man's suspicion jumps at me. Nevertheless, satisfaction sparkles in my eyes good start now all i have to do is imitate Xerxes behavior.

"I want to pay a visit to someone in the dungeon." Yes, I won't explain anything. Nobody would do that either, to whom the jailer actually has to listen. After all, he's only supposed to follow orders. That's all. But instead of opening the door directly, he narrows it only the eyes and does not move a millimeter.

"I'm not allowed to let unauthorized people in here," he mumbles, squinting at the coat of arms again. I could almost feel sorry for him that I put him in this situation. But only almost. Pity has become a foreign word to me. Why should I interested in others when everyone is watching me being hurt over and over again?

"Oh, but I'm not an unauthorized person." I don't break eye contact with him for a second. It's not even difficult for me. I can't say why that is, though. Is it the prospect of seeing Zaret, or am I really so hardened that even an innocent person doesn't arouse remorse in me? "But if you want, I'll go to Xerxes' quickly..." I stop and let it sink in that I use Xerxes' first name. This is just to show how close we are. "Um, I mean I'll wake your Majesty up quickly. He won't be pleased, but well..."

And now my counterpart is restless. The gaze darts around. From the dungeon door, to me, only to end up on his hands. But he says nothing. So I turn around with a sigh. Ignore how my heart must have dropped twenty stops right now. So much for my great plan. And the problem is that this is my first and last attempt to somehow get to Zaret. I can never ask Xerxes about it, so the jailer will know I lied. Maybe he'll tell Platura about my showing up here. I'm just becoming aware of the full scope of my actions. But even as my hands begin to tremble, the man behind me clears his throat. "Wait."

I stop immediately and turn to him. The mask of disinterest has probably slipped a bit. But the jailer doesn't seem to realize that my posture has slumped a bit. He probably has too much to do with himself for that. "I'll let you in. We don't need to bother Our Majesty for that." The uncertain smile he gives me reveals that he's still struggling with himself. But I don't give him time to think again, instead I step towards the door, beaming with joy.

"Oh, how generous. I'll tell him how conscientiously you do your job." And that seems to be enough for him. The grin widens Open the door and slip into the darkened hallway. The smell of death immediately washes over me again, but instead of making a face in disgust, I turn around again. "Oh, silly, I forgot I also had a key to the cages need." To be honest, I have no idea if each cell here has its own key or not. I know far too little about locks and everything that goes with them. But I can hardly ask how the system works here. So that's what I do what seems best to me. Guess.

And just as expected, the jailer falters. But now he's in a bind. He let me in. I'm no longer outside the door, so now he can't haul me out. After all, I'm not the only one worried about Xerxes finding out about this. He seems to notice that too. He grumbles something and a key ring becomes visible. Just the sight is enough to make my heart skip a beat.

God I'm really doing this right now. I'm putting myself in danger just to see Zaret. And the craziest thing is that it worked. The jailer unlocks the key and hands it to me. There is no sound from him and yet I can see the remorse in his eyes. Of course he still doesn't know exactly whether Xerxes really allowed me to do this, but his doubts about the truth of what I said are growing. It's written in every fiber of his face. But I do not care. I reach for the key and grip the thin iron tightly in my hand.

"Thank you," I whisper and he nods. He gives me a quick look before slamming the door, leaving me alone in the maze of the dungeon.