Supernova

Chapter Thirty Six - Playing God Makes a Monster

The rest of target practice was done in silence. I took a hand full of pins back to my room, so I could practice on my own, which Needles not only allowed but seemed to understand. He did not accompany me. When I got back to our room, Elias was awake, showered, dressed, and at the bar. He didn't ask where I had been. He simply looked at the pins clutched in my fist, smiled at me, raised his hand in a wave, and motioned for me to join him.

"We have to fix this," I told him, the words falling out of my mouth.

"Is that what Needles came to the door about?" Elias asked, both rhetorically and indifferently.

"We have to tell him the truth."

"I'm contract bound," he reminded me. "As are you."

"He's going to die." My tone became harsh, and my eyes went black. "They both are."

He let out a small sigh, but he had no other reaction. "So be it."

"What the fuck, Elias? You fucking monster!" I found myself screaming at him, the sound of my voice shaking the glass of our window. I leaped from my barstool, needing more distance between us. Even so, he had no reaction. "They're our family. We love them."

Elias let out a small sigh of understanding. Family monarchy kids had ways of weaving around the confidentiality and image preservation clauses of the contracts we had with our parents, including the blatant disobedience in trust-based whispers. But it wasn't just that. I had meant to say 'we love him', but I'd chickened out. Even so, he knew what I meant, because of course he did, and we shared a brief flare of emotion as the wordless confession hit the air.

"I was devastated as well," he began, his voice still calm, but solid. "But this is the lesser of two evils. This is our burden to bear."

"What if we lie?" I found myself asking. Elias' eyes filled with surprise now, and more than that, request for elaboration. "I could tell him I'll reconsider, that we'll talk about it, I'll make a decision after graduation, and we could just...I don't know..."

"Enjoy it while it lasts?"

I shrugged. He smiled sadly.

"And what, pray tell," Elias said, as he rested his face in his hand, his elbow rested on the bar. "Would we do after graduation?"

"I don't fucking know!" I admitted frantically, shaking the images of Demon and Needles lying dead in a ditch somewhere, the extraction never being requested, The Academy issuing a statement that reminded us that the noble world of hero work was one in which you sank or swam and that their efforts nor their spirits would not be forgotten. "A lot could happen between then and now. Right now, we keep them alive, and we'll figure the rest out as we go, okay?"

He watched me for what felt like a long time. His blue eyes were vast as they flared with a tragic brand of amusement. Regardless of how heavy this moment was, and how I felt once again that my throat was on the verge of collapse, his eyes were beautiful and calming to watch. After some time, they changed, and began flaring with something I understood as a silent affirmative.

"You're the hero," he said, bowing to me with his words.

"Yeah," I said back, and then, nothing else. Things were silent for a number of heavy moments, and I turned to watch the snow fall, as if it might offer me some relief.

"Entertain me," Elias finally said, his tone kind enough, but his eyes telling me that he was certainly mocking me. "Which of us is truly the monster?"

The answer to his surface question was both of us. But the answer to the question he had been asking, of course, was me. Despite my best efforts and intentions, I was a brutal, vicious creature filled to the brim with dark, toxic tar, and I had been well before I'd ever gotten here.

Even so, this monster bundled up her honest, hungry aims and made the trek down to the training gym that Demon and Needles tended to frequent. Both of them were there, both of them noticed me right away, and both of them pretended they hadn't. There was more audible scoffing and loud sarcastic comments concerning my nerve and utility as I got close enough, which filled me with relief. I'm not sure what I would have done had he been silent and ignored me completely.

I challenged Demon to a one-on-one fight on the wrestling mat in the middle of the gym, loud enough for the other pairs, who had long stopped placing bets on our fights but still enjoyed watching, to hear. Once the speculation and excitement had wafted through the gym, having the exact desired effect on his ego, I set my terms. He wins and I'll leave him alone for the rest of my life; I win, and he hears me out. This was nothing more than a formality and a test. We both knew that if he accepted, I'd already have won, which he did. Needles and I exchanged a quick, private glance, his golden eyes filled with a sad type of gratitude that I'm sure mine expressed as well.

He fought me with his full strength, but it didn't matter. Because he deserved it, I toyed with him a little. He'd always enjoyed giving the other pairs a good show, and I considered it part of the apology and atonement. By the time I had secured my victory, both of us and the mat we stepped off of were painted with smears of Demon's black blood, but the moment was happy. In its own way. If I didn't think about it too long.

We went back to their room to clean off and talk, but Needles didn't follow. There was an uneasiness that existed in our being alone for the first time since that time in the private gym, but I refused to give in to my instincts, which were telling me to run. The second the door closed, he kicked me so hard I fell off my feet, black blood smearing on the marble beneath me, and asked me what the fuck I wanted. Every single lie I had prepared fell out of my mouth and I handed them over readily. He was right. I had been selfish. I was selfish. But I could try to share. I could think about it. I would think about it. We could talk it over some more. I didn't have to decide right away. And finally, I missed him.

That last one wasn't a lie.

He acted as if that disgusted him, but he fell on top of me anyways, and more blood was shed and hit the floor and I forbid myself to cry as I found myself relieved to be there, frustrated that I couldn't feel any of it, and already mourning the moment. Afterwards, we cleaned up. I tried to help with the floor, but he mocked and scolded me for my poor cleaning technique before taking the job over himself. His wounds had already closed and started healing, so it was just a matter of rinsing the blood off. Once that was done, he started running the bathtub, got in, and held his hand out to let me in. The sight of this action, instead of just grabbing me by the hair or face and pulling me in, sickened me. The domestic and strange nature of that was horrifying in itself but was made only worse when he pulled me across the massive tub and into his lap, the only audible sound in the room was the way the water submitted under his tight grip around me. He inhaled, as if he was going to say something that I couldn't bear to hear, so I opened my mouth, not caring what might fall out of it.

"Needles can't know anything about any of this," I heard myself say.

His soft inhale became an irritated scoff. "I'm not a fucking idiot."

We sat there for a long while, still and silent aside from the occasional leaning forward to turn the tap that let in more steaming water as I ruined it with my chilled body. After some time, one of his black feet kicked the plug and as the water emptied, one of his black hands found its way around my face and throat and tossed me onto the marble floor. He told me that towels were in the same cabinet as my room and to get the fuck out of his sight. My clothes were still blood smeared and torn through, so I left them behind and walked back to my room in the black towel, which being fairly common practice around these hallways, I knew nobody would think anything of. But still, I was grateful when I didn't run into anyone on the way back.

I left feeling like there were only two truths left that I knew for sure: the lines separating the different fragments of life were infinitely blurrier than I thought, and I was absolutely and undoubtedly a monster.

When I got back, Elias was sitting at the bar. Whether he'd found himself there again or had been sitting there since I left, I wasn't sure. When he heard me come in, he slid his bookmark into his book and closed it, setting it aside. His eyes fell to the towel briefly, but his eyes flared with no surprise. He motioned for me to join him, which I did.

"Entertain me, my God," he said, taking my hand. As my own tingled under his touch, I clutched it and cherished the mild sensation. "Do you feel as if you've made the right choice?"

"I don't know," I said honestly.