Perspectives

Corinne

A long time ago, vikings had a torture method. They ripped open the skin on your back and broke your ribs backwards. They said it resembled bloodied angel wings protruding from your spine. They then pulled your lungs out of your body and draped them from your sides, until you died, slowly of blood loss or suffocation, whichever came first. A death like this would have been less painful.

I was left at the mercy of Henri’s sword. I sat there on my knees, as the iron grazed my neck. He was brainwashed, not only did I know by the Manipulator glaring at us from the corner, but I could see it in his eyes. This was torture for him too. Henri told me some time ago that he loved me more than anyone else, everything else, that he would never hurt me, and that he would never go back on his promises. He had none of that now. Three days he has spent, stuck in his head while the Manipulator utilized his strength, and now he will be used one last time, in the duration of my life at least.

He inhales a deep breath with a glimpse of sadness behind his eyes, and I prepare for death. He reached into his pocket and slowly pulled out something, but he swung his blade before I could react. You can survive and feel emotion and pain for three seconds after being decapitated. The last three seconds of my life were nothing less than the worst three seconds of my life. He pulled out a gun, and put a bullet through his head.

Henri

Corinne’s blood bleeds scarlet on the floor. I see it like it has already been done. My blade hangs hastily at her neck as the Manipulator’s voice thrums softly in my ear. “Kill her. Kill her. KILL HER!” She tried to find a… motivating tone. I blocked out her voice by replaying memories of Corinne and I in my head. Corinne’s laugh, our vacations together, her eyes looking into mine. I am now deprived of that. I don’t get that love anymore, I only see longing in her eyes, searching for any sign of me left, but the Manipulator has a hold on me. I exhale, a deep breathe of relent, for her grip on my mind is far too strong. As my eyes glaze over, I feel my arm swing, and strike, and kill. As soon as the blade connects to skin, my mind is released and I quickly pull my hands to my holster just as tears begin coming to my eyes. If there is an afterlife I will be reunited with her. If not, silence is better than this miserable life without her. I cocked the gun and then continued to pull the trigger as I watched her eyes roll back in her head. I knew my blood would forever decorate these stone-white walls of the palace, as hers would stain the quartz floor. Would they paint the ceiling to match? I am sure the Manipulator’s blood would do quite nicely as a scarlet paint.

The Manipulator

Not long had I known my abilities, but they knew me well and I quickly learned how to use them. This would be my favorite use of my powers by far. Henri was young, rich, and gorgeous, Corinne was solely a farmgirl. She was simply no match for him. The moment I laid eyes on him, I wanted him. I was of a family of wealth and my hair was well kept and my dresses were custom made with extravagant and expensive silks. Like an eel, my ability slipped into his mind. For three days I had set him about rummaging through her things and destroying her house, but she still loved him. Their love story made me exceedingly jealous. Slaughter was not the response I expected to utilize, but envy has strong influences.

I squinted my eyes, utilizing my powers, telling him what to do. His eyes watered as I desperately tried to convince him to kill her, slash her, get rid of her. My heart exploded with joy just as soon as her thick blood puddled on the stone tile. As I released my grip on his mind to run to Henri, he drew a gun from his side to kill me. He pulled the gun towards his own head and released the trigger and a bullet pierced through his head. My skin grew pale as his blood splattered the walls. I would be sick if it were not for me manipulating my own mind, telling myself to stop.

I needed a new plan. So I went to the corner of the palace, grabbed a rope hanging near a tapestry, tied it to my neck, pulled the best I could. My eyes dimmed, not because of this poor attempt at suicide, but because my own mind willed me to do it. My ability, commiting the best kind of mutiny.