Kezi (28 years old)
Popping up from the bed, I tried to calm my racing heart. I walked over to the window to look out upon the quiet streets of the town I lived in. After a minute or two, I glanced over my shoulder to see if my boyfriend had been disturbed by my jumping out of bed like that. Eric was still sleeping, sprawled out like a starfish. He is so adorable when he sleeps. I'm so happy he has come into my life.
As a fellow artist, he understands what it's like to feel the drive to create—something someone outside the art world might never fully grasp. I blew him a kiss, then settled into my big, comfy chair by the window and pulled out my sketch pad from between the cushions. Picking up a pencil from the small table, I began to sketch the image of a man crying while holding a dying woman in his arms. He alone grieves, while the shadows around him keep their distance and appear to whisper amongst themselves.
I drew out what I imagined the scene would look like if I had been able to see it for myself—if I hadn't been the one dying and being held. I sketched until dawn began to break. Finally, I had tired out my nightmare-filled mind enough to rest for a few more hours before I had to get up and complete the commission I needed to finish for today's exhibit deadline. Setting everything back in its place, I crawled back into bed, cuddling my body pillow. I quickly fell asleep, dreaming of red amber eyes and warm arms holding me as if I were the most precious person to them.
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After getting up, washing up, and eating some breakfast, I dived headlong into finishing the painting I had been working on. It was 12 feet in height and 24 feet in width, so I had been working on it for months. The image was of my former self reaching for help, but no one helped me—they just watched. Painting in this expressionist style felt very cathartic for this particular piece.
With each piece I create, whether a painting or sculpture, it feels like I'm bleeding out all the wounds of the past. Whether I'm sharing my childhood, both past and present, or the vile deeds I committed on my path to becoming queen, I release it all to be viewed. I let the masses judge my truth, even though they perceive my past as fiction. I know the truth, and I pray the souls I couldn't save in my past have forgiven me.
"I'm sorry, my family. I'm sorry, my friends. I forgive you, my past self, for you did it all in the name of love—for a man who didn't see you for who you were. You wouldn't hear the wisdom and knowledge of those who had your best interests at heart. Now we have another life here in this world. We have a good family, friends, and even a lover who we might just marry in a few more years once our career is more settled."
I whispered to myself as I worked in the quiet of my studio. I enjoy being around people, but I also cherish the solitude I get when I work. I reflect both internally and externally in the silence.
Since I can't tell anyone I'm a reincarnated soul who remembers her past life, I counsel myself in this way. It was a slow realization, uncovering that I had lived before. As I grew up, I noticed I possessed knowledge beyond my years. It took time to figure out how to stay just ahead of my peers without being labeled a genius. I no longer crave the spotlight as I once did in my past life. I just want to show the world my soul through my art.
It drove my agent, Zonya, crazy at first. She couldn't understand why I, so talented, only wanted to appear in public once a year. But she soon realized that this exclusivity increased the value of my work and persona. My art displayed year-round kept me in the public eye even when I wasn't physically present.
It drives Eric crazy, still, that I don't want to wine, dine, and mingle more. He loves the attention he gets from being my boyfriend and how it helps his own art sell. I know that he is using me in this way, but I accept it as an equal exchange because he helps keep the masses at bay and prevents them from continuously bothering me. His work is good, and I've told him it could get better if he spent more time on his craft instead of always being out and about until he finally finds "inspiration" to create. For every three pieces of art I make in a year, he only makes one. That one is normally an abstract painting inspired by one of my sculptures. He markets them as companion pieces.
Zonya didn't really care for him sponging off me like this, but I told her that as long as it didn't interfere with my earnings, he could amuse himself as he pleased. "Mimicry is a wonderful form of flattery, nonetheless." I chuckled, now as I did then, at Zonya's relieved and amused expression.
Yeah, I'm not a fool. I know he is a bit of a parasite, but he is good in bed and attractive enough that I can overlook his faults as long as he doesn't get too greedy. Taking a few steps back to better view the whole piece and ensure there was nothing more to add, I heard the studio door open and shut to my left. Glancing over, I saw it was Eric. I tried to suppress my irritation. He knows that I do not like to be disturbed when I'm finishing a piece. It takes me out of the zone. This had better be important.
Despite my annoyed expression, he came right up to me and gave me an air hug and kiss, careful not to get paint on his expensive clothes.
"You are looking positively paint-splattered, my dear. I don't know how you'll get ready in time for our lunch date in the next 20 minutes so we won't be late for our reservation, but I'm sure you can figure it out. You're done by now, right? I promised the art director of the city art museum that he would get to meet you before the exhibition next week."
He grinned his adorable grin, his hands in his pockets, acting as if he hadn't crossed so many lines right now.
Picking up a nearby cloth, I wiped my hands off, then settled myself with one leg over the other to inform this idiot, for whom I was rapidly losing affection, of all the ways he was screwing up.
"First off, I told you I would not be in the mood to go to lunch today. You knew I would be finishing up the commission, making sure all the details for preservation and delivery to the museum were correct with Zonya, before I would then have to make the hard choice of catching up on either my backlog of shows or books until the day of the exhibit. After finishing a work, I go into a rest period. You know this. I reminded you I would see you the day before the exhibit since I always go into isolation after completing major works. You know this."
By this point, Eric had seated himself on a paint bucket in front of me after placing a clean cloth on top of it. I held up two fingers.
"Second, I don't meet with outsiders outside of designated times. I can only deal with fawning and attention for so long before I start feeling violent. Plus, you had no right to go around Zonya to make such a promise. It could affect my reputation and any future opportunities if the system she and I created is compromised. I am a rarity, not a commodity. You do not give people access to me, especially when I told you repeatedly that you are the one who will look stupid when I don't show up like you promised. So why you wrote checks your ass can't cash, I don't have a clue."
Eric's face slowly morphed into a deep frown. His tic of cracking his knuckles appeared. Holding up three fingers now, I leaned forward with an annoyed smile.
"Third, you now owe me $1,000 for your breach of contract."
I leaned back, watching him start to squawk and puff up.
"What do you mean, I owe you $1,000? For what? What breach of contract? You're so greedy you even want to take the little bit of money I earn for myself? Is that it?"
He started pacing in front of me, huffing and puffing as if he were having trouble breathing. I would have been worried if this wasn't his usual way of trying to guilt-trip me. You can't fool a master. I've played this trick before—and did it better. Maybe this is why I keep him around. His attempts to trick or play games with me remind me of my young, past self so much that I find it amusing to keep him around.
"You want to keep me broke so I'll be dependent on you, is that it?" he yelled, plopping down on the paint bucket, leaning forward as if to intimidate me.
"You wish that was the case."
I rolled my eyes before pulling out my phone and opening a document to show him the contract he signed six months ago when he tried to set me up to meet someone for the second time without my permission.
"Look here. You signed a contract that shows you agree that I won't mind you using my art as inspiration for your paintings and marketing them as companion pieces to my art as long as you stay faithful, loyal, and never again agree to me meeting with anyone on my behalf without mine or Zonya's permission. For each infraction, if I don't break off our relationship, you owe me $1,000. It is signed and dated. So please reach out to Zonya to transfer that money to me at your earliest convenience within 30 days, or there will be further consequences."
I leaned forward, kissed him on the lips, then dismissed him from my thoughts. Returning my focus to the painting, I noticed a few spots I could add to for ethereal enhancement purposes.
Just as I was falling back into the zone, I felt arms wrapping around me from behind.
"Sweet Kezi, we are lovers and partners. Must we exchange money like this over such a small infraction? We will be getting married soon, so you must know that everything I do is with you in mind. I want the best for us. I love you so much that I sometimes forget the boundaries you have set. Will you forgive me?"
He took my hand and placed a beautiful solitaire diamond ring on my finger. It was quite lovely—but a huge mistake on his part.
"You must have been so in love when you got this ring that you forgot I hate diamonds. I would prefer a ring with a moldavite stone and moonstones."
I took off the ring, turned around, and placed it in his shirt pocket.
"Also, dear Eric, you haven't actually asked me to marry you. If you had, you would know that I'm not interested in getting married right now. What we have right now is good. We're still young. We're only 28. In a few more years, once my career is completely settled and we're still together, ask me then. Now, please let me finish my work so I can properly relax. Inform Zonya of your meeting attempt so she can get the money from you and help smooth over any ruffled feathers from your meddling. I'll see you in five days, okay?"
I reached up and gave him a deep kiss. When I broke the kiss to take a breath, I whispered to him to keep him from being angry about my rejection.
"I'll even wear all your favorite lingerie of mine. We can spend quality time together enjoying each other's company."
I gave him one more small kiss. Just as I started to step away, I felt a sharp pain coming from my left side. Looking down, I saw that Eric was holding a knife and had stabbed me in the heart. The sudden pressure and difficulty breathing made me feel so weak that I collapsed into Eric's arms. He guided me down to the floor with an aggrieved expression.
"A man can only take so much, Kezi. Can only stand in your shadow for so long, and when he tries to stand at your side, you keep pushing him back into your shadows until he can't take it anymore. This is your fault. You should have agreed to marry me. You should have just let me have a share of all your things. I will manage everything well in your absence. I will let this painting be your last great work. All your other half-done projects I will take over for you and let the world see what we could have been together."
The shock and confusion of this moment made it hard for me to figure out what was happening to me. Am I dying again? Dying before I can reach the true peak of my career? Will this be the best I am known for? This man-child has taken from me the dream I have carried for 56 years if we count both of my lives together—because of jealousy, envy, pride, and greed? I worked hard in this life! I honed the few skills I had from my past life and gained more in this life so I could live as my true self! All gone with a stab to the heart because I would not give him more.
I laughed, coughed up blood, and cried on the floor as he watched me die.
In the final moments before this life ended, I told him a truth that would destroy all his plans.
"Zonya has power of attorney over everything since I can be eccentric. There is a camera in here, and I've already pushed the button to activate it so she has the recording of you killing me. I hope you like men. You are going to be someone's little bitch for a long time."
I laughed as he kicked my body over and over again. I died right as he tried to escape and the police came in.
Goodbye, second life. I hope my family, friends, and Zonya will be okay. I didn't accomplish all I wanted to, but I did well with the time I had. For a while, I floated in a dark void. I expected to lose consciousness soon. I wonder if I will remember this life and the one before it in my next incarnation or if I will just be going on to the great beyond.
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"Keziah, wake up. I know you're upset about Mom and Dad grounding you, but you still have to show up for mealtimes. They let you sleep through breakfast, but you have to come to lunch."
A voice I haven't heard in way too long broke me from my slumber.
"We have family matters to discuss, especially if you are truly interested in marrying the first prince. So get up and get dressed," another voice said, sitting on my bed and poking me on the nose.
Opening my eyes, I saw my eldest brother, Quinn, from my first life, smiling down at me. Looking over my shoulder, I saw my younger brother, Amias, who had started to shake me as if to keep me from going back to sleep.
"What is going on? How are you both alive?" I sat up, looking at them as tears welled up in my eyes. I grasped their hands, startling them as my tears turned into sobs. I pulled them close, holding onto them.
"Are you okay, Keziah? I mean, after your stunt last night, I feel like I could die from embarrassment that my older sister would behave as you did, but I promise you I'm not in danger of actually dying. We are not in danger of dying from embarrassment, right, big brother Quinn?" Amias asked, concerned.
"No, we're not going to die. It appears our sister may have had a bad dream. Maybe she's finally realizing that her actions cause trouble for our family. Anyway, Keziah, we forgive you. We know your behavior is due to your nervousness, so you just double down on whatever nonsense you start. We will figure out a way forward. We can move forward if you promise to do better, okay?"
Quinn comforted me and soothed me until I stopped crying.
"I promise. I so very much promise. I feel like I'm a different person now. I won't embarrass our family like that ever again. I feel a bit disoriented. Maybe I drank too much to help me sleep or something. Could you remind me, dear brother, how old am I?"
My brothers looked at each other and then at me as if I were the most fascinating creature they had ever seen.
"I don't know what you drank last night or what your nightmare was, but I guess that isn't important if you truly are saying you will be different from this day forward. You just turned 18 recently, so you can't keep acting as if you are a child anymore. Even Amias acts with more decorum than you, Keziah," Quinn responded cautiously.
"Yes, our little brother is quite the genius. I've always been jealous of his maturity and mind. Well, let me get ready, and I'll join you all soon. It's a new day, and I'm ready to start anew."