Villainous

Chapter 8 | Caspian

When I wake up Hellas is still asleep. She's tangled in a sleeping bag. Her legs are, judging by the shape of the sleeping bag, curled into her chest. Her arms hug her body like a boa constrictor. Her whole body is wracked with shivers. I look a little longer. She doesn't have a blanket. She's wearing that off white t-shirt with the cut off sleeves and a pair of sweats that bunch loosely at the bottoms. No ripped sneakers. Shorter hair. Less... abrasiveness. No bleach dye. Still Hellas Fury.

I try to force my gaze away from her. I am in control, I am in control, I am in control. Loss of control loss of control loss of control. Her shirt slips to the side as she rolls over with a soft murmur and a rustle of the slick fabric of the sleeping bag. She isn't wearing a bra. I feel red warning signs flashing in my brain, all in the shape of Mother's narrowed ice eyes and pointed finger and disapproving glare.

Look away.

Loss of control.

Remember what happens, remember what happens if you're not careful. I grip my wrist and let my nails bite crescent moons into the white skin. I can feel the frozen fear in my veins. Remember what happened last time you and trust and someone you thought you could trust got involved.

I remember. Better than I would like to.

Hellas's eyes flash open with another strike of thunder and burn of lightning outside the one window in our room. "Casper. You better?" I flash back to yesterday. Feeling like my body would crumble to dust, Hellas's hands rolling over my hair, Hellas whispering in my ear, Hellas bringing orange juice to my chapped and cracked lips. I nod slowly. The warning signs are clouding my vision with their red burn and Mother's voice.

"I will be." Hellas's eyes flash with something... approval? And right then, it's almost like we're back in that train side by side, her telling me she likes me and then leaving. I won't be left again. This thought isn't in Mother's voice. It's in mine. He left you, Mother left you, Father left me. I will not let someone leave me again.

I am in control.

In that moment, I'm all good, all bad, all everything and nothing at the same time, and no part of me is stuck in the in-between. Hellas flashes me a daredevil smile. I barely notice. I'm already at the dresser, shimmying on a little purple dress. It outlines my collarbone and the shadow of my spine and the sharpness of every rib poking through my skin. It was nice and tight and flattering when I bought it three weeks ago. Now it hangs loosely on my skeleton figure.

Maybe Hellas was right. Maybe I am a downward spiral, a sinking ship. Maybe I'm not strong enough to live out my Destiny. Maybe I'm not strong enough to live. Maybe I could take the heel of this shoe in my hand and... stop! What am I doing? I would never... I shoot a secret look over to Hellas. She's perched on the edge of the bed, legs braced on the bed frame, one hand ruffling her short spiky hair, the other gripping a glass of water like a vice. Would I?

Would I ever do something like that? Would I ever take that heel and bury it in my own throat? If... if someone ever tried to hurt me again, would I turn the blade on them or would I turn it on myself? I shake my head to clear it, run my hands down the smooth pink silk. I remember Kristen and Marie telling me there was a party tonight. And I could use a drink right about now.