ANATOMY OF A GIRL

part twenty-six

Sapphire left the dorm early the next morning, avoiding sleep, for fear of Flair killing her a fourth time. She didn't think many people could say they'd dreamt of being killed by their best friend in a multitude of sadistic ways. Again, and again, she had to tell herself that it meant nothing, and that her best friend, the person she trusted the most, hadn't killed Arlo. Or that she hadn't meant to.

She thought of Flair, best friend and maybe murderer, sleeping upstairs. Sapphire couldn't think of a single explanation as to why Zak had seen Flair, and why Flair doesn't remember any of it.

Not even her overanxious and imaginative brain could have thought up a scenario quite that bad. Not only did Sapphire know Flair was incapable of killing Arlo, she also knew Flair had no motive. They were in love. And not even the toxic kind that drove people to do all kinds of idiotic things in the name of love.

As much as she tried to hide it, she felt weary around Flair, and she was sure Flair noticed, too. Not weary like she was scared Flair would launch herself at Sapphire at any given moment, but the kind of weary that made her jumpy and slightly jittery. The kind of weary that made her wonder if she really knew anyone in this world.

And suddenly, she felt guilty for thinking this way toward Flair. As much as she'd suppressed all memories of that day, Sapphire herself had killed someone, ripped away the life of a child. She was a hypocrite, she knew that, but she also couldn't help the way she felt. Maybe Zak truly had remembered incorrectly, or maybe it had been an accident, but she couldn't help but feel betrayed.

The common room was uncharacteristically empty for a Sunday, but Sapphire was grateful for it. She'd wrapped herself in a fuzzy blanket in an attempt to ward off the bite of the autumn air. A Powerpuff Girls rerun was on. A good distraction.

The TV volume was low, and she could just barely hear their voices. Better low, to prevent anyone from discovering her, settling onto the couch she currently filled, and forcing her to change the channel.

But, in spite of her precautions, she heard faint footsteps approaching, beyond the common room's entry way. Shit, she thought, I've been discovered.

Moments later, Ayden entered, sweatpants, mismatched socks and all. His dark hair was curled at the ends in the most adorable way, and after a long night, his hair was a mess – each curl standing up in different directions. She supposed his presence was not entirely terrible. Or at least it could've been someone worse.

He dropped down onto the smaller couch beside her own. She almost felt bad for taking up the bigger couch, considering his height and the size of the couch he currently occupied. Almost.

His voice was deep and smooth. "Are we really watching Powerpuff Girls?"

She nodded. Considering she'd already been found, she put the volume up.

"Isn't there anything better? Like Danny Phantom or something?" He said, like the mature seventeen-year-old he was.

Maybe it was his attempt at trying to help her forget about everything that had happened yesterday. Maybe he was trying to forget himself, just for a little while. A temporary fix.

Sitting here with him, just like last night, was an unwelcome reminder.

"No such luck," she said. "He was pretty hot, too."

His lips pulled into a grin. "Danny Phantom? A cartoon? You think a cartoon is hot? That is so goddamn weird."

"No― I mean, yeah, he's a cartoon, but―"

"No, it's okay. We don't need to talk about your crush on a cartoon boy."

"You're an ass, Ayden," she said, but found herself smiling.