My Guilty Crown of Thorns

“I once had a dream,” Millee started, “that we were together, dancing beneath the moonlight… The way your hands felt in mine, so soft and reassuring—they weren’t at all like what I had expected.”

Rei opened his eyes to the sound of her voice, unaware he’d been lulled into a dream-state after Hika vanished, but it was strangely sweet. It was low, but Mille’s soft tones reminded him of fluttering leaves, even in the gentlest of summer breezes. Her voice had the same comforting warmth as a hearty fire, burning strong in the fireplace on a cold winter’s night. If she wasn’t careful, she’d lull him back to sleep, though he didn’t mind.

“We danced for hours, and it felt like the sun would never come up. The folds of my dress caught the night air as we twirled around. I could even smell the blooms of the aristea flowers as their petals brushed against my back, so neatly aligned in the hedges.” She exhaled softly. “It was magical, but I don’t know why it felt so familiar, like I’d been there before… with you.”

Rei’s eyes shot open, a long-lost memory inscribing itself into his trove of cherished memories. He knew the place she was describing, even with minimal detail. The towering hedges glistening with dew, the night air filled with the aroma and musing of radiant aristea flowers… the satin touch of her dress’ moonlit folds— It wasn’t just a dream.

“That night,” he started, “was something I never thought I could forget. After Brendan and I lost you in Madame Lucero’s shop in Seria… I remember spending every waking moment I possibly could searching for you.” The phosphorescent cloud still incessantly clung to the forest but, for some reason, the blinding white no longer strained his eyes. The line between reality and his own dreamscape began to blur. “The air is so rich with magic,” he said. “It’s no wonder these memories are only just now returning… Millee… Do you remember how I found you, after you’d tried to erase my memories of you?”

She smiled, but he’d never see it. “Yes, I do. It was so sweet.” She wrapped her arms around the back of Rei’s neck as she pressed her chest against his back, allowing her heartbeat to sync with his. “You were cleaning up after a large party… They’d reserved the ballroom for the evening, with permission from the estate owner, and you looked so tired. You walked into the garden for a breath of fresh air.” She giggled. “I listened as you took the deepest breaths I’d ever heard, all the while dancing silently on the other side of the hedge to music so loud I could hear it through your earbuds. You were oblivious to my presence.”

He smiled, one that she would never see, feeling her heartbeat against his back. “The owners had hired a local cleaning company to scrub the place sterile after their party. It was so warm and sticky outside, right at the start of the summer solstice. I thought no one else was around, so I just kind of just let loose for a moment, trying to relax.” He paused, reaching over his shoulders to grab her hands. “Not a minute later, the sweet scent of your perfume wafted around the hedge. You thought you’d accounted for every possible way I could forget you, all except for one—scent. You smelled like sweet honey and vanilla, a scent no one else but you used.”

“Mhm,” she replied. “You bolted around the corner so fast. I grinned like an idiot, and I’m so glad I’d turned my back right at that moment. That’s when you called my name, but you were out of breath, so it sounded more like a toddler’s pronunciation. Yet, I didn’t mind. I was dancing with myself, lost in that reverie of sweet-scents and,” she paused, “you.”

“After forgetting you for more than a year, when I saw you again, in that lavender dress under the moonlight, swaying to the beat of nothing but the melodies inside your head, it felt like I’d been struck by lightning. I wanted to cry, scream, run and hug you so tight… But I didn’t.”

“And that’s okay,” she soothed. “Because you finally managed to catch the one thing you’d been chasing for years.” She spun him around, fingers interweaving her fingers with his as she leaned back. “You always felt like you had something to say, and I knew that, so why didn’t you? Why didn’t you stop me in the hall on any one of those mindless afternoons? When it was just the two of us and everyone else was in class?”

“Because I knew that, one day, we’d be here—like we are now.”

“You do realize, when I’d find all of those little notes in my locker before class each day, that I knew you were the one leaving them? Every song, every poem—even the daily motivations on the backs of the notes… Why?” She tilted her head back, allowing her hair to fall in suspension. “When the bullying stopped, I knew that you’d told the other girls to back off… The things they’d say when they walked into the bathrooms… They mentioned how some ‘rude guy’ with your description had told them to quit bothering me and ‘how dare he’ because they could do whatever they wanted.”

“The whole idea was for you to catch on eventually, but I’d also heard from Brendan how he’d been forced to intervene in the affairs of a girl at his school, too—someone with a very similar situation to yours… and very similar description.” He pulled her back in, holding her in his arms as they gazed into each other’s eyes. “In a way, he kind of inspired me to want to be kinder to people, but I knew what it was like to be given a bad hand in life. I’d wait around corners, listening to the bullies taunt you. When you’d finally had enough and left, that’s when I popped out and played the recording back on my phone. They didn’t like that,” he laughed. “The moment I met you, I kind of just knew that I had to get to know you better.”

Tears welled in the corners of her eyes, hidden by her washed-out portrait. “But if you knew I was chosen as Princess of Chiipha, and Brendan had a similar story of another girl getting bullied… What made you think it was me? It’s not like you knew how magic worked. At least not yet.”

He smiled again. “It’s precisely because I did know about magic back then. I wasn’t the best at it, hence why I preferred alchemy and tinkering with things, but when Brendan told me that he’d met a girl named Millee, and how he’d saved her from what I’m sure was a traumatic moment… At first, I thought there was no way, but when he started describing all of your little quirks, it hit me.”

“Am I really that obvious?”

“You really are,” he chuckled. “But the whole thing about watching us being part of your job wasn’t the full story, was it?”

She remained silent.

“Let me guess. It had something to do with romant—”

“Fine!” she exclaimed. “I wanted to know what kinds of girls you both were into… I dug around inside your heads a little, but when I found a lonely corner of memories that hadn’t been thought of in years… There was another girl Brendan liked, but he hadn’t seen her since they were children. Imagine my surprise when I discovered it was Aria, the very same girl who helped organize the current mess we’re in together. Through no fault of her own, of course! But I helped her pick her life back up at a time when mine was falling short of everything a life should be.”

“You were afraid to intrude on what they had, and why you left them together in Chiipha. So, that just left me, which explains why you were so happy to hear your name again that night in the garden.” He patted her head. “See? There was no way I could ever forget the girl who gave me so much, even if it was something so little, when I had nothing. It also explains why you came to Earth to fight—we were the only two still left alone, minus Hika, but that’s…”

Suddenly, as if someone had taken a garden hose and sprayed them with paint, colors rushed back into the phosphorous veil, re-filling Rei and Millee’s stenciled outlines. In the same moment, the white cloud of magic lifted, revealing the same overcast sky Millee had initially found herself beneath as she warred with Kuria.

A steady mist had encompassed the forest, drenching the trees in a liquid fog. The barrier Rei had thrown up to prevent Kuria’s escape had seemingly disappeared alongside any trace of the devil, an unsettling reality Rei and Millee found themselves in. Kuria had lured her in, masking her aura with that of a wounded animal’s—something Millee couldn’t ignore. Unfortunately, in her failed efforts to locate any such animal, she quickly found herself on the receiving end of a losing battle, one that was supposed to be her victory—not the devils’.

“As much I’d love to relive that wonderful night over right now,” Millee said, face buried in Rei’s shoulder, “I’ll never get to relive it if I let that devil go.” She unraveled her arms from his waist. “I won’t allow her to beat me again… I can’t, but—”

“Kuria is going to find out real quick that she pissed off the wrong dude,” Rei said affirmatively, “because in no world was I ever going to let her escape before I turned her into a pile of ash. Oh man,” he chuckled. “Let me cook, and this fight will be over in less than five minutes.”

“What do you mean by ‘this fight’? Kuria’s gone…”

“Or so she’d have you think. You can’t attack us if we’re inside the burn scar,” he said, attempting to draw the devil out, “because the ground’s been altered. You were hoping to surprise us but, unfortunately for you, we surprised you.” He made a one-eighty, checking to see if she’d appear behind them. While he had his doubts she’d try something so obvious, he had to satisfy his paranoia. “I heard from Aria and Mana that you can’t penetrate the surface of something that’s been altered, something like a burn scar. They told me you couldn’t even reach them when they’d moved from the stone floor to a carpet thinner than paper. How pathetic,” he taunted.

“I was trying to have a moment, but now he’s over here taunting devils like they’re a middle schooler,” Millee thought to herself. “Still, though. If Kuria didn’t actually flee, why can’t I sense her?”

Rei noticed the pensive look on her face. “You likely don’t sense her because of how far beneath the surface she is. I guess, in a way, you could say she did flee, but just because the barrier from earlier has faded doesn’t mean that the alchemy base did too.” He bent down, cupping water from the puddles with his hands. “You know how water evaporates quicker when it’s exposed to the open air? The same concept can be applied to magic over time, which is why, the further a spell has to travel, the less potency it has.”

“I knew that, but you said you used alchemy as a base. What do you mean?”

“Remember when we were discussing the way magic and alchemy are both fed through the same Erill Gate and thus the ley lines in the Earth and Chiipha? Back in Seria, also at Madame Lucero’s shop.” He let the water seep through his fingers before patting his hands dry on his shirt. “I used some of my own mana, not what I received from the halifer, though that’s a story for later, to increase the barrier’s lifespan under the ground.”

She turned her eyes towards the puddle as it continued to ripple. “So, what you’re saying is that, because you exchanged your own mana for the alchemy, you were able to extend the barrier deep into the ground, hence why Kuria burrowed so deep. She was looking for a way out by going down.” She made a light splash with her foot. “Because water is stored in aquifers, it lasts longer and can be used for wells and stuff…”

“So, I, quote-un-quote, increased the longevity of the barrier’s magic by, like you said, exchanging some of my mana to increase the strength of my magic,” he gestured with hands. “You can’t sense Kuria simply because she’s too far underground to be sensed by humans. I can sense her,” he emphasized, “because she keeps hitting the barrier over and over. In fact, here in just a minute, she’ll resurface since I just closed off the barrier from the bottom—nets can be used for more than just catching fish, you know.”

“That explains why you used a net… It didn’t matter that the openings were large enough for even a human to fit through. The parts we could see were just for visual effect, weren’t they? The fiery net-like look you gave it. But the way you used alchemy to enhance your magic… I had no idea something like that was even possible or that magic was more powerful in enclosed spaces…”

“Yep!” Rei beamed, overjoyed she was following along. “Like an aquifer, mana from the ley lines also sometimes gets trapped in underground pools. Because the mana is so rich and condensed, it leaks out of the ley lines themselves. When it pools and gets trapped, it lingers the same way water does until the reservoir is either absorbed into the earth completely or is depleted. Nets can be used for than catching fish, you know.”

“That all makes sense, but you didn’t have to repeat yourself,” she laughed.

“Nets can be used for more than catching fish, you know.”

“Are you broken? Do you need glue or something?”

“Nets can be used for more than—”

She moved to slap him, tired of hearing him repeat himself, but all her hand found was empty air—no warm cheek or face anywhere. Anxiety poured into her veins as her heart began to beat erratically, ramming against her ribs, pounding in her ears. She made a full circle only to find herself alone, drenched by the onset of a sudden thunderstorm, lightning flickering like an electric tongue waiting to strike her down.

Mud puddles splattered her legs with filth as she walked towards the tree line on the opposite end of the clearing, but something caught her eye—a reflective glint that only manifested itself when the lightning raced across the sky. It didn’t reflect the dazzling strikes, however; it seemed content in baiting her in with its curious, silver glint as if she were a fish chasing a metallic lure in the midday sun.

Cautiously, she stooped down, approaching the strange object, as grass brushed the backs of her legs. It was surprisingly cool to the touch, much colder than it should have been, but its glass-like composition was puzzling; the edges were sharp and jagged; its surface was as reflective as glass—but it wasn’t glass. The gritty texture told her as much, though it only sought to confuse her more. Rei had mysteriously disappeared, she was standing in the middle of a raging thunderstorm, “and now I’m holding this weird glass thing that isn’t actually glass,” she thought to herself.

She turned the object over in her hand to find that its backside wasn’t reflective at all; it looked as if it had been weathered, deep groves blemishing the uneven surface. She held it up to the sky, waiting for a renewed burst of lightning to illuminate the object. Part of her wanted to know what it was she was holding; another part of her screamed at her to throw it into the forest, far away, somewhere she could never find it. Before she could quell the warring factions in her mind, a fresh bolt illuminated the sky in a brilliant blaze of electric-blue… and the bloody bone in her hand. She screamed, but the ensuing thunder blanketed her shrieks in a booming chorus of bone-rattling claps.

“What— What the hell is happening?” She spun around, frantically searching for Rei, but he was nowhere to be seen. “This can’t be real…”

“Oh, but it is,” Kuria’s voice taunted. “The toxin has managed to work its way into your brain, eroding that scarily-perceptive brain of yours. How does it feel—to question the reality you cling so tightly to? To succumb to the grip of psychosis that coils around you, squeezing, pressing against your weakened mind until you break?”

Millee panicked, hopelessly confused. What was real anymore? Did Hika show up to rescue her at all, giving Rei time to catch up and join the fight? Did the conversation she was having with him ever even happen?

Her knees gave out as she collapsed into the muddy earth that threatened to drown her within its bottomless pit and overzealous gluttony. She refused to believe Kuria’s words—a devil of all things. How could she trust that her words were genuine, that she wasn’t just trying to deceive her? She allowed her mind to wander, thoughts suddenly lost in mazes of time and incomprehensible musings. She turned one corner just to find herself at the end of another thought that failed to scale the towering hedges.

Where did the timeline veer off course? Was it when she met Rei? Was it at Madame Lucero’s shop in Seria? And how did she manage to find herself trapped within the confines of her own mind? Or was it a toxin-induced psychosis? Her thoughts wandered into the furthest reaches of her unconscious. …Was her birth destined to bring chaos and destruction to not just the world, but the very fabric of reality itself? Every question led her to another dead end. No matter how many turns she took, the only answers she could find were lost in the thorny vines that tore at her flesh.

“How did I even get here?” she screamed. “Was I just destined to be the catalyst for everyone’s death? The reason for every failure, every failed attempt we made in every different timeline?” The answers to her questions continued to elude her, emotional baggage that weighed her down. “Do I dare reach for what you’ve taken from me? You wrap your thorny vines around my feet like you own me,” she seethed, “like you have some kind of stake in all of this.”

“Do you dare pull at the vines that embed their thorns in your flesh?” Kuria’s voice echoed through the maze. “Or do you let them continue to poke and prod until you bleed out?”

Millee swiped at the vines, their thorns burrowing into her flesh as she yelped in pain. “Stop playing with me! How do I even fight back?” she sobbed.

Just then, it hit her: the more she struggled emotionally, the tighter the vines became. She placed a hand over her heart, taking slow, steady breaths, trying to control her emotions. Anger had grown into an uncontrollable rage—a fiery wrath that had no time for temperance, for patience. She’d allowed her emotions to gnaw at her heart, savoring every bite of her distress as their teeth sank deeper and deeper. Every prick was a reminder of that distress; every dead end was a reminder of her incomplete, one-sided questions; every thorny entanglement was a reminder of the past she swore she’d escaped.

“Look at me, standing here crying, covered in thorns,” she cried. “What a fucking joke! I thought I had it all under control. I thought I’d accepted my past—the bullies, the spite, the boys who looked at me like I was a toy, the friends who ran from my side when it all became too much—” She tore the vines from her legs as they clung to her flesh, tearing it from the bone. “I’m not ok! I was never okay with any of it! I never asked Brendan to step into my life, to save me from that horrible night in the dark!” She continued to tear the vines from her legs, bloodying her hands. “I never asked Rei to tell the bullies to leave me alone! I thought if I could just… be somewhere, anywhere, else that things would be better—that I could finally throw the pill bottles away, that I could stop talking to someone who pretended that they knew everything about me because they had some stupid degree!”

“What good are you to the people who call you their friend,” Kuria taunted again, “if they won’t even show up to save you? Look at you, struggling. Let the thorns burrow into the soft flesh of your neck. Let them end your suffering. You can finally be free from all of the pain they’ve put you through.”

Millee continued to sob, harder now. “I’m so— useless. Can’t even— control my own pathetic emotions!” The bone from earlier skipped across the ground, settling at her feet. The bloody gloss reflected her tear-stained cheeks and puffy eyes. She scoffed. “Ha. I look so— pathetic. All I ever was was just a monster who used people to get what she wanted.” She wiped her eyes. “Everyone hates me, and I don’t blame them. I never deserved the good grades I got, the people who showed they cared.” The vines began to dig into her chest. “The truth is… I’ve always wanted to d—”

“I love you, Millee. I loved you before you even knew what love meant to you. I’ve always loved you.” Rei’s voice echoed through her mind. “You’re drowning, and you don’t know how to swim, but that’s ok.”

“Huh?” she sniffled. “What would make anyone think I deserve such kind words? I don’t deserve kindness—or love. How can anyone justify getting close to me when all I ever brought was bad luck?! All I do is cause problems!” She broke into a new sobbing fit. “I’m a murderer, a liar, a thief— If I didn’t send that text, my parents would still be alive! Does anyone know what it’s like to listen to their terrified screams every night for three years straight?” The vines had curled themselves around her shoulders as she winced. “Mom was replying to my message, but she hit record as soon as they swerved… They plunged over thirty feet to their deaths, through the guardrail and down the mountain…”

“What about that time you stole food from the school cafeteria so you could feed yourself? You weren’t even hungry, but you gave in, thinking that anything was better than a cold cheese sandwich,” Kuria said, feeding Millee’s negative emotions. “The poor girl who sat in the back corner of the cafeteria, struggling just to feed herself, but what right to satiety does a murderer have?” the devil emphasized. “Or that time you told your best friend you didn’t need their help anymore?”

“I’m a terrible person, you’re right,” she said, still sobbing. “The way the lunch ladies glared at me when my stomach growled… The way my friends transferred out of all my classes when I told them I was finally feeling better on the meds and that the things we were learning was starting to make sense… I’m a tool—an object unworthy of empathy. I wish Brendan never showed up that night— I wish I’d hidden under my bed sheets instead…”

Just then, the sound of broken glass tore through the maze as the vines continued their relentless pursuit of her flesh, greedily sinking their thorns into her body again. She braced herself for the inevitable puncture, the prick that would take her life and bring her the relief she’d been longing for, but it never came. There, suspended above her heart, was a single, red thorn, pulsating in mysterious synchrony with her heartbeat.

“How can you wish such cruelties upon yourself?” a woman’s voice came, dissonant but recognizable. “You’re lost in the same maze I found myself trapped in, when it was my turn to carry our burden.”

Millee looked up in astonishment. Before her, a slightly more nourished version of herself appeared: her cheeks were flush, eyes bold and cerulean, hair neatly brushed with a reflective sheen, and her voice was full of confidence.

“You’re… me?! What’s even happening right now? Why am I— You?”

“Just call me Mills—that’s the nickname I was given in my timeline,” the other Millee explained. “But you’re about to make the same mistake I did, my dear other self. If you allow those negative thoughts and emotions to consume you, the thorns will grow to strangle you as you lose your mind in a psychotic break.” She pressed her lips together, their red gloss like blood. “Yeah, life sucked, but you can’t let Kuria’s mind games mess with your head. In my world, my timeline, I found myself in the same position as you are now. Nobody came to save me. I hated myself in the same way you hate yourself.”

The vines tightened their grip around Millee’s legs again, this time lashing her in waves of thorny pain. She opened her mouth to shout, but nothing came, only silent screams of agony and years of repressed torment that escaped through her tear ducts. She could hear the flesh as it was torn from her bones; the rush of blood in ears; she could feel the softness of her lower lip as she bit down, drawing fresh blood.

“I don’t understand,” she cried. “Why does everyone have to include themselves in my life when I just want to be alon—e.” The word broke as a new set of thorns pierced her lower jaw, the vine steadily climbing higher up the side of her face. She tried to free her hand to wipe the blood from her cheek, but all she could do was struggle in place, racked by poke after poke as the thorns burrowed themselves into her constricted arms. “Why… Why does it hurt so much?” she wept.

“Because you don’t want to be helped,” Mills said. “I was the same way… And that’s why we lost, in a world where Ahzef now reigns as king… I succumbed to my own psychotic break,” she said pressing her hands against Millee’s cheeks. “It was awful, and I feel so guilty. I can’t fix what I’ve done, but I can make sure you, my other self, don’t repeat my mistakes.”

“Then tell me what’s so damn special about me, then! What was ever so wonderful about me that I ever deserved an ounce of the world’s kindness?” she shouted, tears flying from the corners of her eyes. “I’m tired of the fakeness, of the façade that everyone puts on when I’m around! I was given all of this responsibility with zero explanation—ow!—and everyone to supposedly care about.” The vines continued their march, thorns now embedded in her upper cheek. “I hate this world—and the people in it,” she raged. “Do you know what they did to us? How they laughed at us? Mocked us for having above-average grades, for having a pretty face!”

The sky above the maze grew dark as a cold wind swirled through the inescapable hedges that browned the more her rage peaked. Dead leaves battered her face as if to taunt her, saying “you’ll join us soon enough.” Tears spilled down her face, mixing with blood as they dropped to the ground in salty splashes. The vines had all but obscured the lower half of her body, their thorns embedded in her soft flesh, eager to tear off another fresh chunk.

“Listen to me, Millee,” Mills urged, trying to refocus her attention. “It is so, so important that you fight back. I know what it was like for you, for us. I’m not saying that what Kayde did that night wasn’t wrong or that the bullies at school ever had a right to say and do the things they did. The death of mom and dad… Wasn’t our fault.”

“How can you say those things when you were relieved of it all! You don’t have to bear those burdens anymore! There’s nothing left of your world to protect, so how can you just jump across timelines and tell me that it’s all up to me when there’s probably a million other versions of myself you could be saying this to who would listen!” she screamed.

“Because you, Lacia, Brendan, Rei, Mana, Aria— You six are the only ones still left who can stop Azhef and his plans to revive Nertiia!” she shouted back at Millee. “Look at you, crucified by the thorns that you allow to fragment your life like it’s something you can just throw away! How can you be such a stuck-up little girl when the lives of everyone left across any timelines are right here, in your hands?”

“I’ve heard it all before! It’s always the same guilt-trip! I’m so sick,” Millee emphasized, “of everyone trying to tell me who I can and can’t be, or what I can and can’t do! Even if I am the only version of myself left, what good does that do me? Two people doing nice things and standing up for me aren’t enough to get me to say that this world doesn’t deserve to teeter at least a little.”

Mills closed her eyes as she gave a breathy sigh. “You were given an Aria because you—excuse me—we were given an Aria precisely because we’ve seen the awful things life had to offer. I’m not defending the way we were treated, or—”

“Then what about that time on the playground in middle school, then, huh? When that group of girls came over and tripped us while we were running track?” Millee countered. “You do remember, don’t you? Considering we’re the same person with the same shared experiences. If I rubbed the makeup off my right cheek, would you say the scar from that day was deserved or rightful?”

“No, but you’re twisting the point I’m trying to make,” Mills sighed. “I’m not here to fight with you and, yes, I have the same scar you do, just on the other cheek. The other timelines are not one-to-one,” she explained. “In some instances, that night with Kayde… Brendan never showed up, but Kayde also took on completely different approaches from what happened to you. Look,” she said, “I’m running out of time to convince you to get out of your own head, but—”

An abrupt flicker returned the maze to the lush forest clearing for a moment before changing back. The sky had cleared, the mud puddles had disappeared, and the overbearing emotional weight that had flooded Millee’s consciousness lifted—all for a moment shorter than a single breath. For that moment, though, another aura—the combination of pristine and calming mana—had soothed her mind: the vines loosened their hold on her body, thorns removing themselves from her flesh like old, stuck-on bandages as they fell at her side.

She fell to her knees as her palms pressed against the grass, its dead, yellow blades crunching beneath the weight of her hands. Her eyes burned holes into the ground; her breaths were sharp and rapid. As her hair dangled in front of her face, a rush of guilt and shame collided with her heart:

Maybe she wasn’t the princess in a fairy tale, or a girl who everyone loved, but to allow herself to become so swallowed up, so enveloped, by her own selfish emotions… The crown she wore wasn’t one encrusted with jewels or made of gold. She didn’t wear a tiara or fancy dresses; she didn’t command an army; she didn’t get to stand on balconies and listen to the cheers of her people when she waved, and she knew that, but it didn’t soften the blow.

The guilt tore into her first, realizing that the people who did cheer for her were the very people she’d been fighting alongside for years now—the friends she’d made and new family-like bonds she created in the process. How could she betray their faith? Their belief in her to win not just her battle against Kuria, but the war that waged in her mind? She became sick, vomiting into the dead grass as her eyes rolled. There was no getting around the grudges she held for the people she’d only ever been kind to, the same people who had turned their backs on her when her crown slipped.

“I sit here like I’m the one that needs to be saved.” She covered her mouth with her hand, trying to keep from getting sick again. “Like, what was I even saying…? I feel awful… How do I deserve to be Chiipha’s crown when I’m such a broken mess?”

“It’s not about who deserves what,” Mills said. “Yeah, maybe our own faults are what make up the crown of thorns we wear atop our heads… Maybe we are doomed to fail as we watch all our hopes and dreams disintegrate, but you haven’t even taken up the actual crown itself yet.”

“What… are you saying?”

“While I can’t help you endure the pain, what I can do is this.” She cut the remaining vines away from Millee’s body. “Do you see how these vines have fallen around you the way they have, in the pattern of a crown? That is your crown of thorns and, in order for you to don the true crown that comes with the title of princess, you had to endure the most torn pieces of your mind.” A shimmering crown-tiara hybrid manifested itself in her hands. “Many princesses have held this crown before, though none of them ever chose to wear it. But you know what I think?” She lifted Millee’s chin, holding her head up. “I think this crown truly only ever belonged to you, and that’s why they never wore it.”

The ornamental headpiece glinted proudly, even under the overcast sky. It was beautiful, the embedded aquamarine gemstones reflecting the emotional renewal she longed for—a stark difference from the golden crowns depicted in her childhood storybooks. Only the centerpiece was able to contain the icy blue brilliance of the embedded stone. As her eyes fell upon the crown, she noticed it had an open back, similar to a tiara, but the most surprising feature was the make itself: an icy gloss adorned with a crystalline snowflake-like pattern that made up the entire front. She hesitated to touch it, afraid she might smudge the blemish-free surface with her fingerprints or somehow cause it to melt in her hands.

“Why would this, something so beautiful, belong to me, though? It’s so pretty, but I’d feel guilty wearing it… after everything I just said.”

“Like I said earlier, it’s not about what you said,” Mills confided. “It’s about why you said it. I shared the same displeasure with literally everything. It was like, nothing was ever enough to satisfy me. One day, it all just came to a head, and I just gave up—gave up caring, gave up trying to please people… But for you, that rush you just felt is a sign that your heart isn’t ready to give up. It’s telling you to keep going, don’t stop.” She lowered her gaze, eyes falling over the rosy thorn that entangled itself in Millee’s clothes. “Do you see that thorn on your chest?”

Millee moved her hand near her heart, fingers smoothing over the briar. “It’s the only one that hasn’t hurt, but it didn’t fall off like the rest of the vines. Why?”

“That thorn is everything that makes you whole. The loathing you have for your world, the fear of losing everyone and everything… but it’s also the way you love with all of your heart, the memories you cherish—even the light you reach for when you feel like you’re drowning. All of your feelings are real. They’re proof that you’re alive.”

“So… this thorn is the culmination of all of my feelings? How does that justify the awful things I said?” Millee closed her eyes for a moment, unsticking matted hair from her face. “I don’t think I can accept any crown. Not after giving up on myself…” Before she could open her eyes, she found herself caught in a tight hug. “Wha—?”

“You’re not the only Millee that decided she wanted to give up, but you are the only Millee that decided she wanted to keep fighting. Don’t do it for me, or even the boy you like—do it for the people who believe in you.” Mills’ form began to shimmer. “Looks like it’s time for me to go,” she said proudly, “but I do have a final message for you, technically me, but… it’s definitely for this you.” She smiled. “Remember when I said the timelines aren’t one-to-one? Well, the one thing that never changed was Rei’s feelings for us—for you, Millee: ‘Even if everyone labels you a liar, even if the world turns its back on you, I will be by your side. You will never walk this damned path alone, so long as our hands remain intertwined.’ Now, press the tip of your finger against the thorn and begin again.”

She did as instructed. Stretching her pointer finger out, Millee pressed the tip against the thorn just as Mills’ form faded away, her remaining life energy depleted. She flinched, expecting to feel the prick of the thorn, but it never came. Instead, a bombardment of emotional agony stole her breath: memories of days hidden behind the grey, steel doors of the high school bathroom stalls, listening to the endless puree of poisonous words that spilled from her bullies’ lips; memories of facial plastic surgeons desperately trying to convince her their new stem cell therapies would heal the scar tissue on her face as they picked the track rubber from her face; memories of bad boyfriends who could have cared less about her own emotional fragility and the verbal abuse they marred her with after the breakup, leaving her with both physical and emotional scars.

Frustration and animosity tore through her first: hot flashes erupted across her body as she broke into a shivering sweat. The sweat soaked her clothes, but her drenched skin was unable to fend off the burning torment of the past she could never forget. She wrapped her arms around her body, hopelessly wishing someone would hold her, but she shook so violently she couldn’t sit still—a combination of hated for her enemies interwoven with the inconsistency of the shivers. Her fingers curled into the palms of her hands, her fingernails digging into soft, delicate skin.

The thought of blood-curdling screams and desperate pleas, begging for forgiveness, consumed her mind. She imagined the bullies in the dirt, on their knees, groveling as they apologized for insulting her intelligence, taking advantage of her kindness, and the things they said behind her back: “I heard her father left her because he couldn't put up with her,” they’d whisper, “There goes the whore of the hour,” they’d tease, “Oops,” they’d snicker, “looks like we snipped another lock of hair by accident.”

Violent thoughts overtook the screams. Repressed memories of her ex-boyfriends enveloped her mind in panic and fear: the flinches before every would-be strike, the bruises on arms from being pushed into tables, through doors, and the vice grip of boys with anger management issues. She was there, sitting across from Kayde at the grand opening of the town’s newest five-star diner as she ordered her meal—before he grabbed her. His strength was almost inhuman, slamming her wrist down on the table, slicing it on an upturned knife. At first, she was embarrassed for having made such a scene, apologizing profusely for ordering extra toppings on her meal; embarrassment quickly devolved into fear as she raised her non-bloody arm to fend off his incoming hand; the night would end up like all the others, she thought. First, he’d grab her. Then, he’d pull her out of her seat, pushing her through the front doors of the restaurant with enough force to break bones. Finally, in the car, he’d berate her for being so ‘greedy’, telling her she can buy her ‘own damn food’ as the engine roared to life.

She hated him; she loathed him; she abhorred him. She’d weep silently, bandaging her bleeding wrist in the handful of napkins she managed to grab before she was pulled from her seat. The next morning, she blocked his number, deleted his contact, and filed a police report… but no one listened to her. “Oh, it’s just young lovers quarrel,” they’d say. “You’re still a minor. Take it up with his parents,” they’d blame-shift. “The best we can do is give him in-school suspension since there’s no evidence he was the perpetrator. I’m sorry, Millee,” the principal apologized.

She imagined taking matters into her own hands, leading him into a wooded area, away from the public. There, she’d pretend to apologize for being so ‘awful’ before pressing the barrel of her father’s handgun to his forehead. The gunshot would echo, but no one would hear it. Maybe the second shot but, by then, she’d have finally rid herself of the agony the world had put her through, body lying somewhere in the underbrush of the forest. Who would miss her when all anyone ever made were excuses? Repeated failures to intervene, repeated boyfriends who abused her, repeated attempts to bring awareness to her situation… repeated attempts to put an end to it all: razorblades, sleeping pills, traffic… bullets.

She wanted to kick, punch, and scream. It was frustrating, the way everyone looked down on her, the way everyone ignored her cries for help except for when it convenienced them… everyone but the two people whose actions yelled at her from the sidelines, always offering her encouragement: Brendan was her warm star that outshined the inescapable gravity, the nothingness black holes of cold agony, that freed her heart from its miserable cage. He was the guiding light that illuminated the dark, decrepit halls of her mind, that nightlight wall plug-in that lit her way to new rooms—new adventures.

The thorns had clawed at her not because she’d given up hope, the tiny ember she needed to rekindle her own life’s flame, but because she’d chosen to run away from the things that scared her. She was afraid to lose the things she cared about, and she viewed her life as a direct threat to them: keeping Brendan and Rei safe. She never could have imagined just how much her heart would thaw in just two years’ time. Even so, after she erased herself from their lives and rewrote her own timeline, even if for just a day, she couldn’t keep them from coming back like a pair of annoying weeds, but they were her weeds—and she loved them.

As Millee, she’d let Brendan do all the cute things a boy does when he likes a girl: hot chocolate under the guise of striking up conversation, trying to look smart—hoping to impress her—by pretending to read ahead in the textbook, stumbling over his words when trying to compliment her… As Lyra, she shut Rei out, a standoffish approach she used when she knew someone liked her but wanted them to make the first move: she avoided him in the halls, ate by herself at lunch, and pretended like she didn’t know him whenever she saw him in public.

She liked both boys, and she appreciated it when they stood up for her, but she knew she’d grown too close to Brendan, and that scared her. When Rei entered her life, right as she was given the weight of an entire world to carry on her shoulders, she knew how broken he was, and she understood the pain that gripped his heart—it was the same pain that had tormented her for years: no family, no friends, a world that looked at her like it expected her to right its wrongs…

“But that’s not who I am… I wasn’t given this power so I could sit here and wallow in self-pity.” She forced herself to her feet, blood still dripping from the various puncture wounds across her body. “This red thorn isn’t a thorn at all… Even though you may look different, someday, you’ll bloom into a beautiful star, one so brilliant and striking that no one will ever doubt your true identity ever again—just like me.”

The withered thorns that had fallen from her body erupted into flames, orange embers crawling up their vines as they smoldered—a symbol of her past, one she could never forget but eventually learn to forgive. Exhausted, she rested her shoulder against the dry brush of the maze hedge, watching as the thorns continued to burn. Finally, she was free. The shackles that had chained her and held her down for years were gone, nothing more than ashes that would disappear the next time the wind picked up. It all seemed so surreal: the weight had been lifted from her shoulders, the disdain and apathy she held for herself had grown from its own weed into a beautiful flower and, for the first time in her life, she felt as if the steps she began to take were finally her own.

She started slow—one step, two steps—before breaking into a full sprint. The maze wasn’t a maze at all—it was a garden, one filled with the dazzling aroma of flowers and citrus. Roses sprouted from the hedge walls, verdant grass grew beneath her every footstep, and oranges and lemons hung from trees, their glossy leaves reflecting the sunlight that began to peek out from behind the clouds. As she ventured further in, she found that the other hedges had become an expansive field of vineyards, juicy grapes ripe for a mouthwatering snack or just strong enough for a rewarding glass of wine—enough to take the edge off. Every corner she turned fell back, transforming the psychological maze of subconscious torments into a blossoming revelry of life and new beginnings.

As she reached the final hedge wall, she stopped—and smiled. “I always fought for the life I wanted, even if it felt like I was drowning beneath the waves of depression that always seemed to drag me under at the worst time. Brendan,” she said, pressing her hand against the bristle, “you’re what made me want to fight. The lipstick stains on all of those paper cups are proof of that. Something sweet like chocolate, not bitter like coffee or the salty tears that fell into my morning tea.” Blue flames began to sprout from beneath her hand. “Rei, you’re what made me throw the pills away. I could afford the lipstick that stained each paper cup because I didn’t have to worry about insurance anymore. Of course, my wallet was also happy about that. You gave me a reason to run and not hide behind the steel lock of a bathroom stall anymore.”

A spiral of majestic, blue aristea flowers wove their way through the final hedge, breaking the dry, dead brush down as it returned to the same loamy soil that also marked the fertility of her new life. Marvelous blue stars erupted before her, eager for her to follow their lead as they continued to bloom. Ecstatic, she paralleled the hedge, keeping pace with the brilliant, floral growth. She ran and ran until her side ached, but she didn’t mind—it just meant she was alive.

“Today, my life begins again. For the first time in years… I’m happy.”