I climb out of bed, feet padding on the sunlit wooden floor planks. The tower creaks as I look out from the window, the ground a long way down. His sticky green feet graze my arm, clambering onto my shoulder.
"Hi, Pascal," I say hoarsely. I feel empty inside, though I don't know why.
A gust of wind blows my hair back, and I step away. The side-table holds a pink brush, and I start running it through my hair.
One. Two. Three. Four… the count starts in my head, the dependable strokes grounding me.
"Bring back what once was mine, heal what has been hurt," I whisper to myself. My hair nearly glows, sunlight pouring through the window. Something stills inside me, golden locks wrapping tight around my barren legs.
I uncover the set of paints from the cupboard, the glossy horse hair paint brush stained blue with the paint of an endless night, devoid of light. The tower's walls are full once again, but I don't want to scrape it off and start again.
The table catches my eye, the legs blank canvases. I start painting, my fingers guided by my heart. When I step back, I realize it's lanterns in the night sky. I've never seen it, yet… The tower shakes, and I hear the sound of stones knocking against the wall. I rush to the window, my hair draping over and out, down the vines gripping the austere spirals of where I can't go.
"Zella, hold on. I'm coming," she says. Her familiar face, the only one I've known, greets me with a smile.
"Mother, I missed you."
She laughs, pulling herself in through the window and letting her rope go slack. "I was here just last night. I know you haven't been up for more than an hour or two." I smile, suddenly energized.
"Mother. I want to ask you something."
"Ask away," she says, drawing the curtains closed.
"Could I leave the tower?"
Her face abruptly changes, eyes bulge, frown darkens. "No. Never."
"But-"
"I said never. You're staying here. If you go out, you'll be captured. They'll take you and chop your hair off, they'll destroy everything you have, and you'll never see me again."
"Who?"
"The men. My dear, we've been over this. We're not discussing this again. Now here, I made you your favorite cookies." She holds out an oven-warm, bakery-smelling cookie, adorned with an oddly symmetrical peanut.
"It's good," I say, brushing crumbs from my mouth. "Thank you."
"Haven't I told you to not talk with your mouth full?" she chides. I pout.
"Have you ever seen a waterfall?"
"A waterfall? Do you even know what that is?"
"I read about it in the book you got me this summer."
"Well, I've seen one. But they're really not very interesting. They're just big sinks." My head begins to throb.
"Mother, my head's hurting again," I say, eyelids feeling heavy. I don't hear what she says next, lost to tumultuous dreams.
When I wake, golden evening light streams through the window. I push the blankets off and stand up, suddenly feeling sad.
"Mother?" I call out, like a lost puppy. She walks in as if she was watching me sleep. "Hey, Zella. How are you feeling?"
"Tired." I say, my face melting like butter on pancakes.
"Come, I'll brush your hair." I follow after her diligently, sitting on the cold floor tiles. My shadowed eyes convey nothing, a hollow shell with no emotion.
"Flower, gleam and glow," she coos, "let your powers shine. Make the clock reverse, bring back what once was mine." I close my eyes, letting her voice soften the edges of jagged reality. "Bring back what once was mine, what once was mine," she finishes. "Come, I've made you your favorite- hazelnut soup."
She serves me a fresh, sumptuous bowl and we eat together. She smiles, but her sad eyes share a different story. I don't know what's going on anymore. I wish I could just go back in time, go back to when everything was eternally perfect.
After dinner, I page through a novel I've already read thrice, not able to focus. Mother's washing dishes in the kitchenette. I peek around the corner, and she opens a little black rectangle. Is it a compact? But she raises it to her ear.
"Frederic?" she pauses. Then, "I don't know what to do anymore." Who's she talking to? There's no one in the tower besides me and her. "She's only getting worse. The pills aren't helping either." Who's she? "She only wants to leave, and I feel so bad. It's been nearly sixteen years. She could handle it. Shouldn't we tell her?" I'm nearly sixteen… "Frederic, I don't want to keep her locked up. Please." Is Mother talking about me? Tell me what? My foot slips, and I bump against the doorframe.
Mother looks up, and her eyes widen when she sees me. She snaps the black box shut and tucks it into her pocket. "Hi, Zella."
"What is that? Who were you talking to?"
"No one. It's just one of my friends. His daughter stole my pills- that's another word for um, earrings." I stare at her, confused. Earrings? Locked up?
Seeing my face, Mother turns away. "I'm sorry," she mutters under her breath. "I can't do this anymore."
"Rapunzel," she says. She never uses my full name. "We're leaving the tower." We pack in a whirl. I have so many questions. Where are we going? Why? But I know better than to ask Mother. She's acting different from any time before.
I step out of the window and slide down the rope, landing in the dewy grass. Grass. I've only ever read about it. Suddenly, I feel panicked. "Mother, maybe we shouldn't leave." She looks beyond confused.
"Why? You've always wanted to leave, now we're leaving."
"Okay, b-but, but maybe…" I can't explain what I'm feeling. It's like two halves of me are pulling in opposite directions.
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