loving hagar

The longer I spent in the Yellow House, the lonelier my days felt. Desire, my escort into this new world, had disappeared and it felt like she had never actually lived there at all. Music always played. The slight crackle of vinyl records echoing through the house kept me from complete silence, but as for people—companions—there was no one. My new job as the sisters' cleaner was all I had. Yet, there never seemed to be any messes to clean.

It wasn't until I met the second sister, Hagar, that everything changed and my loneliness fell from me like a silk robe. Hagar was different than Desire. Alluring and intriguing, of course, but there was a sense of childishness to her that Desire did not have. The twinkle in her eye. The little smile she gave me whenever I looked at her. It only took a week for me to forget all about Desire, for Hagar had usurped her sister's seat in my mind. When she came around, Hagar brought with her so many new people. She hosted balls and parties with hundreds of people—some from town, but most from far away. Dozens would remain in the house for days, even weeks after. They all wanted her. Needed her. But I needed her, too, and I was willing to prove it.

I never learned the man's name. He was supposedly some kind of politician—an alderman from the next major city. I didn't know. I didn't care, either. But Hagar sure did. She kept him the longest—feeding him, clothing him, entertaining him. I began to think that he might live in her bed, that he may become a permanent fixture in the Yellow House.

On one particularly quiet evening, I spent the night ironing tablecloths. The Alderman stumbled down the stairs. His feet dragged sloppily under his lanky body and his eyes were glazed over. Clumsy or rude—I do not know—he fell into me, knocking my board and iron and myself down. Searing hot pain spread across my forearm. I looked down and watched the iron roll off of my already blistering skin.

"My apologies, friend," he said.

The Alderman fell off of me, but the smell Hagar on his body lingered right under my nose. I said nothing. I only stood, grabbed the iron, and struck the Alderman more times than I can count now. My lips, the tablecloths, the floor, the walls—all covered in his blood. He wheezed—weak and desperate—as he lay still on his stomach.

The rest of the night is lost to me. Even now, I cannot fully bring forth the memories of my life after the Alderman. I remember Ptolemy helping me carry the Alderman away. Aquarius bathed me and dressed me in their clothes. I dislike when people refer to unutterable experiences as a blur, but that is exactly what it was.

When I came back to myself, Hagar sat next to me, her face hovering over mine. She peppered sweet kisses over my face and chest and rubbed her hands up and down my skin as if to tell me that everything was okay—that I had done well.

I felt sick. I knew that on that night, I had invited something terribly dark and overpowering into my soul. But I also felt sated. I felt as though I'd finally drank water after traveling through the desert. That I'd eaten after a month of fasting. I indulged myself, and then overindulged myself. I got ill, vomited, and then did it all over again. That was what it was like to love Hagar.