eeehhhhh

He watched you from afar. He saw your pale skin glow against the colored lights of the shady side of town. Flicker under streetlamps as you walked home through snowdrifts, white as your hair. He followed you, and with quicksilver tongue he spoke his way into your flat, into your bed.

He would take you. Shape you to be even more beautiful. That dirty mortal world, he thought, didn't deserve one as pure as you. He whispered those honeyed words as he watched you, his eyes meeting yours. You knew your own eyes were strange, but his were stranger still. He whispered to you. At the time it had no meaning, but it's something you remember to this day. Something you hate yourself for.

You will look even more radiant underneath an Arcadian moon.

The next few moments were full of scrapes and regret. Pulled through a literal and dizzying urban wasteland, giving way to wild marshland full of thorny bushes that dragged their bloody lines through your skin. Some part of you hooked onto the briars. You're still sure you'll never find it again.

Your injuries were not permanent. Far from it. He polished your body to a china shine, more pure and beautiful than any human being could be. But you felt just as cold as some display piece. From there the memories are hazy and distant. You're sure he had you do the same thing you did on Earth, still would be doing if someone hadn't stolen your life. You could tell from the mad rhythm that coursed through your head, urged you to dance, the faint beat of which you still feel.

He would show you off. You have vague memories of elegant, beautiful ballrooms that contained some twisted masquerade. You were draped in silks made of gossamer, told to dance. By the end of the nights you would always be torn, broken as every partygoer had their touch, however they liked. You were taken to the back, polished and stitched back together, and the ball would begin anew to fulfill whatever wild whims your keeper wished.

One night, an interruption came to the party. Your keeper had made some enemies in those high-stakes games of fate and control, and they finally came to collect their due. Through the chaos, the twisted limbs and horrid shrieks, you saw your chance.
You remembered your home. Where you danced to familiar rhythms.

You knew your second trip through the briars, no one would be on the other side to polish you again. You didn't care. What mattered was escape. And you achieved it.

But when you came back, forging some alibi and hoping to step seamlessly back into your old life, you saw yourself on the stage, dancing to your own songs.

He looked at you, and you decided to leave.

What will you do now?