Egaeus

Egaeus

TIRED. I exist in a state of constant lethargy, aware of naught but the perpetual exhaustion of my every limb, my chest, my face, my mind. The world around me, shrouded in brume, like a graveyard in the early morn. Only, for me, there is no noon to come and dissipate the fog that be. It remains, night and day —indistinguishable, to me, one from the other.

I know I am cared for. Shapes blur past my sight, hands lift me up, then lower me down, I can sometimes even feel myself chew and swallow, though any feeling of taste is long lost to me. Any feeling at all is hard to have as of late, other than that of the ground beneath my feet, or the bed beneath my back. I smell not a thing: my sight is veiled, my ears are muffled, my touch is numb. My mind, the most clouded of my senses, remains at rest: to concentrate on even the slightest of notions would involve an effort my body is simply unable to muster.

Of my younger self little remains. Before, young Berenice —that is my name— would skitter around, restless and joyful, the family's ancestral home the setting to adventures galore. Then came the condition, an epilepsy they called it, though one like mine they'd never seen before. Now, the adventures persist, only, it is my body that goes on them without my consent, and I am left to deal with their tedious aftermath: the unrelenting passivity of necessary bedrest. To keep me company, only my carers.

No. Not just them. He is here also. The distant cousin, Egaeus. His being has always struck my interest. Not, I think, due to any extraordinary physical attraction, for his name might be ancient Greek in roots, but his physique is far from it. Nor has there been any particular chemistry between us, no singular bond to transcend any familial or temporal barriers. In fact, our upbringings developed in fairly opposite directions. My adventures took me outside, to the manor grounds, the wind on my back and the sun in my eyes, whereas his adventures were always set within leather boundaries, in ink and paper. I think that is partly why he appealed to me. His eyes had an insurmountable quality to them; whenever I caught him lost in thought, it was like staring at that point where the seabed drops to unseen depths. I could never play with him, for he was not closeby, he was fathoms below, in some dark abyss the likes of which only he knew.

He visits ever so often. At times where I am not engulfed by a storm of illness, when the seizing ceases, I hear the distinct timbre of his voice, a raspy hum, unwavering and constant, like the sound of a wheel against the earthen paths trodden by a cart, stopping only for brief periods to rest, or when there is a change in direction. Today he is here, I barely notice. The strain I feel suggests an attack occurred not long ago, but I have no recollection of it. There is a difference to his presence, a certain eagerness, the cart has quickened its pace. I catch fragments of what he says. Berenice, my name, some phrase not understood, the word beauty, another word, love? He speaks of marriage? I try to raise my head and look towards him, it shifts slightly, but back down it comes. He reacts, some new excitement in his voice. Some new feeling in my face, are those lips? A tingle in my left hand. What have I unknowingly agreed to?

I wake once more. Some time must have passed, Egaeus is no longer around. I hear my own breath, I am agitated —surely the effect of my latest attack. Am I already someone’s bride? I must clear this up. I stand up, a tremendous effort this must entail, but so desensitized is my state I feel not pain, only vexation at the slowness of my movement. All is mist around me as I glide through the halls of family history toward the library, where surely my cousin will be. I know not how I remain on my feet at this moment, my illness could never allow it, nor would my caretakers. One thought keeps me afloat: I must clear things up. This ailment has deprived me of a lot, but my person it shall not take. The grave may be near, but I shall be mine when I face it, and no one else’s.

The library is nothing but darkness when I enter, although whether my surroundings are truly dark or the darkness comes from within I cannot tell. Up ahead, a beam of light, followed by another. His eyes, two guiding beacons in a sea of obscure mist, and as he stands and approaches, the rest of his figure comes to light. I see but a contour, his body not much larger than mine, scraggly and gaunt. His eyes light up at my sight, almost feline in their gaze. I try to speak, my lips part as I begin to speak his name, yet I produce no sound. Something shifts in his posture, his eyes widen, their light increases and almost blinds me. I turn away, if it were possible I would run, but, since I cannot, I simply step back into the mist, hoping it will shield me from Egaeus’s sight.

I feel my body begin to seize —am I already in bed? Regardless, an attack is imminent, but I dread it not. Would that I die a sickly maiden, rather than live my cousin’s healthy bride. Let it come engulf me, I have lived long enough amongst the fog; perhaps in death I might regain the livelihood of my youth. I hear the rattle of my bed as my body shakes, less of a seizure, more of a willing run, for I have direction now, I run towards Death’s kind embrace, as it finally draws upon me…

PAIN. I thought I had lost the capability for pain, but at this moment I am its leading expert. Dozens of singular spots of pure pain within my mouth, and the taste of copper pouring down my throat, out of which sound suddenly is being produced for the first time in years, as my pain escapes in the form of sound, of a wail of sheer agony. I try to rise, but I cannot, and my hands discover what I now realize is not my bed, but a wooden box. Still screaming, I open my eyes. Above, shapes scurry to and fro, I hear screams that match my own, and above them all, a clear night sky. The clouds fade to reveal a waning moon, as the mist begins to take me once more. And as I fade the moon bids me farewell, its shape almost a white grin, like that of the Cheshire cat —ah, what beautiful teeth it bears!