"You think he'll let you?"
"You think he can stop me?"
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Margeux can't decide whether she's a sociopath, or a psychopath. Continuous events tend to sway her either way. Out of all the people she could kill on her eighteenth birthday, she en...
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NOW I'M NOT completely heartless it seems. I mean I did think I had schizoid personality disorder merely days ago, but the moment I saw helpless faces around me - I seemed to jump into action.
Vika is like anyone else to me. I don't need to see her every day. Every year. Every decade. I don't need to be friends with her. I don't need to even know her.
But if she were dying, and I could do something, I definitely wouldn't step back. Because Vika has defended me before. Like Sasha has, but in a more honest way. That's what I respect about it.
If it were Sasha who were shot? I'd do the same. Heather, Keagen - even Elliot and Odyssey who I'm definitely not on good terms with - I would still do it. Maybe not Liam. I'd let someone else do it for him, that guy gets on my nerves.
And I guess I would do it for Margeux as well. Except the only difference is that I would definitely get annoyed by her and her teasing, and definitely contemplate doing her stitches wrong. But still. I would.
"Hey Reign?" Odyssey comes up to me after the Vietnamese has been ordered.
"Mm?" I hum focusing my attention on my hands as I wash them in the kitchen sink.
"Thank you. For...whatever that was." She says. Usually, if Odyssey were to ever thank me - there'd be hesitation. This time, I'm surprised by the sincerity.
"Protocol." I shrug, moving past my surprise.
"You could have sat back and hoped Heather would have done it right though," Odyssey shakes her head, "And I'm grateful you stepped up despite that."
"Okay." I say softly, nodding, "I'd have done it for anyone. Minus Liam."
Odyssey holds back a smile.
"And Jeremiah." I add, to wipe it away. It feels weird to have her kindness - especially after so long. It doesn't feel deserved.
Odyssey glares in minutes, "I don't even know what to say to that."
"Ask." I drop the cloth in the sink, tap still running, and face her.
"Ask?" She repeats.
"Yeah," I urge bitterly, "Ask how I did. Ask why I did it."
Odyssey is silent.
"Exactly." I scoff, "You don't want to know. You don't actually care so long as I get the blame."
"He made a comment and you killed him Reign." Odyssey keeps her tone firm and her voice quiet, "You didn't punch him. You didn't even push him. You killed him."
Yeah, she's right. What she doesn't know is that I still don't give a shit.
"When you want to have this conversation," I say dangerously low, "Properly - then ask. You're too much of a coward now, but when you've matured, you - and Elliot - can come up and hear all about your dear Jeremiah and what it felt like to kill him."
