“You should really stop doing stuff like this, you know,” Daniel informs me.
“What can I say? I have a death wish. Ow!”
“Your body isn’t staying still Cat. Try to control yourself while I’m stitching.”
I just squeeze my eyes shut and try to ignore the feeling. It’s hard though. My neck and throat both sting like hell. You’d think I’d be used to this by now. But I guess you can never really get used to dying.
I do know one thing though.
I’m never going to get my head cut off again.
Not if I’m going to wake up afterwards.
And definitely not if Daniel has to sew my head back on without drugging me first.
Speaking of which…
He groans. “What is it Cat?”
“Daniel, where are my breasts?”
“I thought we’ve been over this, they’re non existent.”
“I swear to god, what is it?”
“Daniel, when I look down, I see my bottom.”
I would’ve shaken my head if it had still been attached to my neck. “How bad is it going to hurt?”
“…there’s no way you can knock me out first?”
“It’s your own fault, you shouldn’t have-” Daniel’s voice trails off when he sees my face. He shuts his eyes. “How bad does it hurt?”
I grimace, and tears fall out of my eyes. “Point taken,” he says. “Your brain isn’t strong enough for a blow to the head though.”
“It has to be to the brain,” I agree. “I’m assuming pills won’t work either.”
“Pills can’t be digested as is,” Daniel reminds me. He sighs. “I could give you a needle, but…”
“Do it. There’s worse things than needles.”
“You’ll be out for a long time. And you’ll need a few days to readjust.”
I frown. “How long in…”
“Your Reality? Not too long. I’d say about an hour or two.”
“Okay…” I watch him send a girl to fetch a needle, and he turns back to me. We sit in silence for a while.
“How weird does it look?” I ask.
“Pretty weird,” he admits. “It’s not every day you see a head talking without a body.” He has a sad smile on his face.
I chuckle slightly. “Guess what?”
“What?” Daniel looks at me.
“I’m not afraid of dying,” I tell him. “And I can take anything you give me.”
“Doesn’t mean it wouldn’t hurt.”
“I never said that.” I smile up at him. “But I can stand it. I’m strong enough to live with it. At least I think I can.”
Slowly, a genuine smile spreads across his face. “Good girl,” he praises me.
“Am not,” I retort.
He grins, but it quickly fades when the girl returns with the needle. “Stay still,” he whispers.
I hiss slightly when the needle enters my temple. But then everything goes numb, and I start floating…
It’s an ordinary thing to wake up once again. I simply blink open my eyes and roll over again.
Then I remember.
Then I look down, and I breathe a sigh of relief when I see my body’s attached the right way.
My body’s a bit slow when it comes to movement, but it follows my brain’s orders, albeit a second after it issues said order.
I stumble out of bed after 2 minutes of trying to get used to control. Then Daniel comes in, and he sits there watching me stumble about his room. “Like I said, it’ll be a while before you recoordinate yourself,” he says to me.
I merely grumble in response, not paying attention to my surroundings.
“Watch out for-”
I crash into the table, swearing as I fall to the ground. “FUCK!” I yell out.
Daniel quietly sniggers behind me. “Would you like some help?” he asks ever-so-politely.
“Fuck off.” My stomach grumbles.
“Will you be able to handle a spoon by yourself Lady Madigan?”
The answer, it turned out, was no. I ended up getting more soup on my dress than in my mouth. But I was adamant about doing it myself. Not that Daniel cared.
“Say ahhhh,” he told me, wielding the spoon in his hand.
I merely glared at him. He just sighed. “As much as I’m enjoying watching you throw your soup everywhere, I’d prefer it if you consumed some. Otherwise I’m going to be explaining to the chef that my companion has the manual dexterity of a three year old baby.”
I stick my tongue out at him. “At least three year olds are cute,” said Daniel. “Ray’s better behaved than you are.”
“Ray doesn’t have trouble moving her limbs,” I retort. “She climbs the trees outside my window.”
“Shut up and let me spoon you,” he orders me.
“I don’t want you to spoon me,” I reply.
“And I don’t want to deal with a hungry three year old. Their cuteness only goes so far.”
“Can’t I just drink out of a straw?”
“That would defeat the purpose of this exercise.”
“So would you feeding me,” I point out.
“Feed yourself then,” he groans.
“Thankyou,” I beam. And then I proceed to throw soup everywhere, while Daniel looks on, exasperated.
A few days in Delirium go by like this. I wonder how old I’d be if the days I spent here counted in Reality as well. I’m going to guess 17. A year sounds about right. Finally, after days of taunts from Daniel, I can move my body the way I did before my decapitation, although I am still not as strong.
When Daniel learns that I’m coordinated enough, he throws me a sword. I’m able to catch it, before dropping it to the floor. Daniel sighs and hands me one which is the size of a bread knife. “I’ll go find another one,” he tells me.
While he’s gone, I have a thought. I’m not strong. I’ve never been strong, not in that way at least. But as I dash around the room, pretending to fight the air, climbing random objects-bookcases, walls, the top of Daniel’s bed- I know that I’m slippery enough that it doesn’t matter.
I also know that my attention span is that of, well, a cat.
So I hide. I scale the wall and wait for Daniel to reenter the room. He does, and when his head is turned away from me, I leap.
I land on his shoulders, and put the knife at his throat. “How’s that?”
I hear him chuckle, and suddenly, he’s grabbing onto my ankles and he swings me off his shoulders. “Not bad,” he admits. “But…” He drops me onto the ground with a thud. “Never ever miss an opportunity.”
“I would never kill you Daniel,” I tell him.
He laughs. “You get the idea though.”
“Yeah. Don’t give them the chance to turn the tables.”
“Good girl. Next lesson…” Daniel picks me up and throws me over his shoulder.
“OI!” Instantly, I knee him in the face and drop to the ground. I snatch up my knife and hold it at the ready.
Daniel stumbles up and laughs, with a touch of pain in his voice. “I think you’re nearly back to normal,” he tells me.
“You know what I mean.”