The Queen Of Spades

Chapter 4, Continued, Again

After I took the knife out, I took my hoodie and t-shirt halfway off. I took the lid off the vodka and took a big drink (what can I say? I’ve got issues.) before pouring it on the bloody cut, clenching my jaw at the burning of it—both in my mouth and on my arm. My bra was being stained with blood as I tried to thread the sewing needle. The door opened and closed and Noah walked in. For literally why? This isn’t even his bedroom! Olivia waking in, I can understand. But Noah? What was the reason? I thought about telling him to leave but my robotic arm couldn't grasp the string or needle and my other hand was trembling again, so I held the needle and string out in front of me for Noah to take. He took them hesitantly and threaded the needle, but didn't give them back. Instead he just stood there looking at me, at first I thought he liked the sight of me in my bra (because boys usually did.) but then I remembered all the marks on my stomach and arm. Burn scars, tattoos, cuts, I had it all. Just a damaged little girl who never even had a chance. Kicking him lightly in the shin, I held out my hand for the needle, he handed it over and went to sit down by the door. I took my still trembling hand and started stitching my shoulder up. Once I had the string securely tied off, I cleaned up the blood with the towel and got dressed. Noah was still there, just sitting, watching me.
"Do you need something B'y?"
"Are you okay?"
"Perfectly fine, as always. Is that all?"
"Yeah, I guess. Should I tell mom?"
"About what? I'm going for a run." I turned towards the window and opened it, climbing out.
"I thought you were going for a run?"
"I never said I was going through the door." I laughed and stepped backward off the roof for dramatic effect. Since I went out the back, Caleb didn't see me leave. Which meant that I could go to the train graveyard for the first time since I met him. I needed to call Oliver and clear my head. Maybe spray paint some of the empty train cars, or draw a picture.
"Hey Oliver." I said when he answered the phone, looking through my baskets at the train graveyard.
"Hey Madelyn, what do you need?"
"A new protection detail for starters, preferably an invisible one. Or mute. Can you cut out his tongue?" I smiled, taking a scalpel out of the basket.
"You're out of luck there Madelyn. Caleb stays. What else can I do for you?" I glared and twisted the scalpel in my hand.
"Can I come over on homecoming night? Everyone else will be at the dance and I don't want to be alone in that house with nothing to do."
"No, because you'll be at the dance with them."
"What are you talking about, Ollie?” I let out a small laugh. “I'm not going to homecoming."
"Yes you are. For your cover, you have to go."
"Um, no, lots of normal people don't go to homecoming. I don't want to go to a stupid dance where you literally just stand around the whole time doing nothing. I'm done being undercover, I want to go back to work." Was I aware that I was whining like a spoiled toddler? Aye. I threw the scalpel across the boxcar and watched it lodge itself into the wall.
"No. You're going to homecoming, you're going to the after party and you're never coming back on the job. Do you understand?" His voice rose steadily as he said it and I rolled my eyes.
"Yes, Sir." I held my tongue so I wouldn't say anything I shouldn't, "What can I even wear? What can I wear that would cover the entirety of my arms and legs?"
"Nada can take you dress shopping." He suggested, "If she did, Caleb wouldn't have to come. Take Olivia and Noah with you too, I'm sure they still need homecoming outfits."
"Yes, Sir. Bye Oliver." I hung up and shook a can of black spray paint, getting ready to paint. One of my little acts of rebellion. An illegal act that would disgrace my family’s name. I started drawing, dragging the paint can down in smooth strokes. A face formed, not mine or anyone I know, just a random girl's face with a key in the cheek and zipped lips. The more I painted, the more I understood the story behind my strokes of paint. A life controlled by things you can't say. Secrets that you would kill for, secrets that you'll die for sooner or later. Everybody's darkness, hidden from view because it's not acceptable to be anything other than happy and bubbly all the time. I keep my secrets out of duty, while people like Gideon keep their secrets out of fear. Fear of embarrassment, fear of being hurt, fear of consequences. Secrets being kept out of fear eat away at you and trap you inside your own mind because fear is the most powerful weapon that you can use against someone. That's why psychological warfare is one of the most effective techniques—at least in my opinion. So the fact that some people's fear in normal life can cause them to end their life is terrifying. On the other hand, secrets kept out of duty will kill you by other means, usually another person. How lucky for me that I hold many of both.