If I’d never met Midas.
But all of those things did happen, and here I am. In the dark space of an ex-dressing room, now-cage room. My ribbons drag on the floor behind me with every step I take, and outside the door, guards are standing watch.
Bright side? I don’t fucking know.
My eyes fall to my bare palm, to the gold that’s caked to it like dried blood. It still drips, a spigot left to dribble. I hold the weight of wealth in my hands, and it’s so damn heavy to carry.
This power—this magic that the goddesses bestowed upon me, it has cost me everything. And apparently, it wasn’t enough that I was born gold to be gawked at, because then, when I turned fifteen, it started to stream from my fingers and turn me into a murderer, while ribbons sprouted from my back like a monster.
I wish there was a window so I could rage. Rage at the stars hiding behind the light of the sun.
Instead, I rage at the heavy locked door.
Storming over to it, my fists pummel the wood, making splotches of gold drip into the grains before it begins to spread.
“Let me out!” I yell, teeth bared and ready to bite.
He will not trap me in here like an animal. I won’t let him do this to me. I will not spend the rest of my days waiting for scraps to be tossed my way.
My gold-touch magic, my ribbons, my own damn thoughts, I’ve tried to hide them all. Been ashamed of them. Been ashamed of me, and he nurtured that shame, though I was too blind to see it.
I sat and I smiled, withering beneath the gild. Played pretty music as I stayed locked in my birdcage and accepted when I should have fought.
And Midas...
He gave me feathered kisses and spoke sweet words, and it isn’t enough. Who I’ve allowed myself to become isn’t enough.
Rip was right.
A veil has been lifted—a veil I put there, over my own eyes. Now it’s ripped away, and I can see everything more clearly.
I’ve made many choices in my life, and for the last decade, all of them have been for Midas. But like Lu said, it’s time to own my shit.
It’s time to start choosing me.
I had one chance, one person who could’ve helped me, but I fumbled that when I turned Rip down. So I need a plan. I need to figure out what I’m going to do. No more hiding from the world while I stand on Midas’s pedestal.
I grip the handle of the door in my bare hand, my magic swallowing it until it gleams. I yank hard, as if I can get the lock to come free, but of course it doesn’t.
“Let me out!” I scream again, but Midas’s guards ignore me.
My ribbons snap up like snakes rising in a pose to strike. With fury taking over, I send them lashing at the door as I continue to pound my fists against it.
Some of the strips wrap around the handle, some start slicing into the hinges, while the rest hack at the door like an axe to kindling, because I can’t give up, can’t give in.
My ribbons are tired though, overwrought. They aren’t acclimated to being used so much. But I push them, ignoring my screaming muscles and the mental effort it takes to control them.
They broke the door to my cage, and they can break down the door to this room too. They have to.
Panic makes a sob tear from my throat as I scream at the door for not budging, scream at me for not being stronger.
I hear the voices of the guards as my efforts grow louder and louder, but I stupidly didn’t put a stopper on my gold-touch. With my rage too consuming, I’ve gilded the whole damn door, and the exclamations of surprise tell me that it’s gleaming on the guards’ side too.
I slap my palm against it, fuming.
My ribbons could probably hack through wood, but not through solid gold.
“Shit,” I curse, furious at myself, at Midas for locking me in here in the first place.