Maidens & Killers

Hurt

      “Obviously we’re going to win, that isn’t even a question. The question is how….” Ridoc takes a dramatically large bite out of his apple and looks around at the rest of our squad sitting at the dining table.
“Rid, just because we are the shit, doesn’t mean we are automatically going to win War Games.” Sawyer responds, barely even looking up from his bowl of porridge.
The upcoming War Games is all anyone can seem to talk about lately, even though it’s still weeks away from starting.
I lean against Violet to my left, “You down to hit the gym tonight?” I ask her. Since finding out about the attack on her life that I had no idea about, I have been trying harder to stay in tune with what is going on with her.  Putting in the minimum effort to check in with her seems like the least I can do.
Surprisingly she shakes her head and doesn’t meet my eyes, “No. I am ummm meeting Imogen. She’s been working with me.”

    I can’t keep the shocked look off of my face, “Imogen!?”
“Yea, what about it?” Imogen replies, taking this opportunity to arrive at our table. Since Threshing, she has slowly crept into our group for meals. So far, she and I have been able to avoid each other, but it looks like today is the day we finally say our peace.
“Just surprised, that's all. Seeing as you nearly ripped Violet’s arm off at the beginning of the year, the fact that you are now helping her seems odd.” I reply shortly.
Immogen shrugs, “For the betterment of the wing and all that.”
“For the wing? Was Violet not good for the wing months ago? What changed?” I know I should stop poking Immogen but the fact that I have to report to Professor Carr this afternoon has tainted my mood today.
“Everyone has to prove themselves, Mae..” Violet tries to butt in and defend Imogen.
“No.” I say shutting her down, “Everyone does not have to be almost killed to prove themselves. Noone has ever threatened my life here or broken any of my bones.”
“In my defense, her bones break very easily.” Imogen adds with a smirk.

     I don’t know if it’s the shitty day of working with Professor Carr ahead of me, or just how much I can’t stand Imogen, but I have uncharacteristically had enough. I stand up from my seat at the table violently, knocking my tray of deserted food to the floor.
“You are a bitch. I’m sick of everyone walking on eggshells around you and you just think that there are no repercussions for any of your actions.”
Imogen stands as well, “Everyone walking on eggshells around me?! Oh that’s hysterical! In case you haven’t noticed princess, I’m one of the discarded and when you're done slumming it with Garrick I will have to be the one to pick up the pieces.” Imogen winks at me, “It’s okay though, I don’t mind at all.”
I snap, that’s the only way I can describe it. One minute there is a table between myself and Imogen and the next I am standing on the other side of it and my fist is connecting with Imogen’s face.

    Blood splatters onto me from Imogen and then it is a flurry of movements. I throw my weight at Imogen when she comes towards me and end up on top of her. People around us are yelling and hands are grabbing for me but I am laser focused. I rain punches down on Imogen, though she is pelting me with elbows and knees from beneath me just as much. One of her knees connects with my rib at just the right angle and for a brief moment I can’t take a breath. Before I can regain my composure I feel a large set of familiar arms wrap themselves around me and lift me up into the air. I’m being held fireman style and staring at Garrick’s ass as he walks quickly out of the dining hall.
“TAVIS!” Someone screams at him and he stops for just a moment.
“Take her straight to the healers to get looked over and leave her there. General Sorrengail will want to talk to her about all of this.”
I feel Garrick nod before he continues walking.

     Garrick makes a left when we exit the dining hall and I know that we are heading towards the healers quadrant. He’s silent as we walk, minus his loud footsteps echoing off the hard floor. I don’t speak either, it’s difficult enough at the moment to even take in a deep breath after so many knees to the ribs from Imogen’s boneyness. The silence is deafening and I wish that Garrick would just say something, anything to break it. I know that I may have overreacted slightly, now that I am of calmer mind, but Imogen was way out of line and has been all year.

      When we reach the healer’s quadrant, Garrick unceremoniously dumps me to the ground and stands back a few steps. I gather my bearings and turn to look him in the eyes now that I am able to. I am surprised by the amount of hurt that I find there, anger or frustration I expected, but not hurt.
Before I can explain to him that Imogen absolutely started that disaster I am being ushered into a hospital bed by an elderly female healer and Garrick is left standing at the door.

      “What happened here now?” The woman asks me as she pokes and prods my aching abdomen.
“Just a fight at breakfast. Typical Wednesday for us riders.” I say downplaying the situation.
The woman makes a tsk tsk noise at me as she lifts my rider's shirt up. I can see that ugly blue and purple bruises are already starting to sprout across my stomach.
“Doesn’t feel like anything is broken, making you one lucky thing. You’ll be hurting for a bit though. Let me make you a salve to help.”
The healer hurries off behind the curtain separating my bed.
I look through the curtains and see that Garrick is still standing there holding the wall up. I hate the look on his face as he approaches my bed and closes the curtain behind himself.
“Wanna tell me what the fuck that little display was?” He says, speaking to me for the first time since I decked Imogen in the face.
I look down at his boots, unable to look him in the eyes anymore, I can’t fight the feeling that for some reason I am the one that he is pissed at.
“Imogen started running her mouth…..” I try to explain but Garrick cuts me off.
“BECAUSE that is what Imogen does. Imogen runs her mouth. Imogen likes to get under people’s skin, it’s what she wakes up for every morning. Now how about you tell me why my normally level headed girlfriend decided to climb a table and fight someone on her own damn wing this morning.”

    My heart stutters for a second when he calls me his girlfriend, he hasn’t done that before, but now I am pissed because it seems as though Garrick is putting all of the blame for this on me.
“She said that she was going to pick up the pieces of you when I am done with you Garrick.”
Garrick nods, “A lot of people have been saying similar things. I’m a rebel kid, you're the daughter of a prominent Northern Lord. Imogen and I have history, I can’t change that. She wants to be with me, I don’t want to be with her, another thing that I can’t control. But what I can control is how I react to situations. That’s all any of us can control and you failed at that today.”

     I’m crushed that Garrick is talking to me like this, I’ve always felt like he had my back no matter what. “I feel like you're taking Imogen’s side.”
Garrick doesn’t respond at first. He stares a hole into the ceiling from where he is leaned against the curtain rod separating my bed from the rest. Finally he clears his throat and speaks. “I am taking her side Maeve. I will always take her side. She’s one of us, and I am responsible for her. My life is ugly and her life is ugly and misery loves company.  I don’t know what else to say about it other than the fact that she and I are connected by this shit.” He waves his arms in the general vicinity of his rebel relic tattooed on neck and shoulder.
“There is so much of my life that I can never tell you, I feel like I’ve been living a false life almost these last few weeks. I haven’t been there for Xaden, or the rest of the rebel first years the way that I should be because I’ve been so Gods damned hung up on you.”

      My heart is in my throat now, so much so that I can’t speak. I sit there on the cold hospital bed clutching my wounded abdomen and can’t even come up with a retort. I never thought that Garrick would take someone else’s side over mine in an argument. When I find my voice I only have one question for him, “What happened to if you were mine, I’d always have your back?
Garrick at least has the forethought to hang his head, “I guess you were never really mine. You belonged to the man I wanted to be, not the man I actually am.”
I will not let him see me break. Before a single tear falls from my eyes I point to the break in the curtains around my bed. No words come out, but he gets my drift.
Garrick turns to walk out of the curtain but stops, almost like he is debating saying something else. He must think better of it though, because he eventually walks off with no further fight left in him.