Thread: Hysteria  [Father & Forbidden]

It was a dream engulfed in another. Within the boundaries of her own reality, Heidi was enacting a scene as Anne Boleyn opposite to her husband playing King Henry VIII. Francis loves this play, its his favorite . It was a scene where the British King is confronted by his distraught wife pleading for mercy prior to her execution. Francis loved the chaotic fusion of emotions Heidi embodied in this role. There was fear, sadness, nervousness, and complete absence of Boleyn's collective mindset, but what Francis loved most was the hint of hope that showed on the queen's eyes. I feel like Anne Boleyn is secretly optimistic that she can win Henry's forgiveness back. The possibility of death terrifies her, but her own air of cockiness and confidence makes her dismissive of being killed. It is that final look on her face, when Henry shuns her away that shows her denial faltering and realization of her predicament taking place, that is priceless . He had once shared with her his fascination of this dramatic scene. She had no grasp on any fragment of consciousness. No attachment to time nor space nor people her memories were jumbled and her own sense of identity was stirred. The only pieces of her mind that were glued rigidly were those pertaining to her late husband. In fact, she remembered more of Francis than she should. She saw him more with him dead than she ever had when he was alive. She saw him in the way the veterinarian doctor smiled, the way the postman walked, and the voice the weatherperson spoke with. It was no wonder that she remembered how much he adored watching her act this particular scene and how warm it made her feel knowing that her husband was her top admirer. Perhaps it was an irony of fate that Francis played the role of the executioner in this scene given what she did to him that night. She remembered exactly what she had done to him. That cursed night when he died on their bed with his blood on her hands and semen between her legs. She never wanted him gone. She could never bring herself to hurt him. Yet she'd done it regardless, and she blamed herself for what had befallen her husband. She blamed it on her idiocy and poor judgement. Yet there he was. Alive in breathing flesh. She was so ecstatic with his presence that the hows and whens escaped her brain. Her mind was occupied with the warm moment. Her heart was busy wondering whether her husband knew what she had done to him, or if he hated her for it, but her lips denied her heart from confirming her fears. She loved the moment too much to ruin it by bringing painful incidents from the past. After planting a few pecks on her psychiatrist's hands, she retreated back to her feet. B-but its your favorite play her voice had a whimper of disappointment with a hint of confusion, like a child denied her favorite toy without any justification. I'm sure you'll remember it after we start. She smiled, if only for a second, then donned her acting face once again. Then it was almost as Heidi had never known how to smile. Her face was a portrait of sadness befitting a wife facing an execution ordered by her husband. Her hands moved to tug at his shoulders and pull their bodies closer until their faces were only a finger away. I loved you and I love you still. Please .. After everything we've been to each other, after everything we were! She could feel his warm breath landing on her cheeks, yet it made her shiver with thrill. Please she begged, then leaned forward and kissed the man. Their lips found each other like magnets. Please, Henry. I'm sorry, she kissed her husband again, tasting him and feeling his weight hold her close. Francis, she muttered amidst her barrage of kisses, their two heads glued like two pieces of a cross.