ANATOMY OF A GIRL

part twenty-two

Flair tried to stay in control and avoid hurting Caelia, but it was like holding back a monster that had been locked up for years, and the cage had finally opened. Like firing a gun and trying to catch the bullet ― she fought a losing battle. She couldn't fight the part inside of her that wanted to hurt Caelia. It was a bigger part of her than she'd like to admit.

"What's Little Miss Perfect doing here?" A grin like a wolf's snarl. "Wait, you aren't even Little Miss Perfect anymore, are you? You don't have the perfect boyfriend anymore, or the perfect grades. And with that dulling hair and those bags under your eyes, you don't even have the looks." Caelia's voice was taunting and her smile too sweet for her words.

Caelia kept the wicked grin as she tilted her head condescendingly. Flair didn't feel belittled. She felt boiling anger rush through her bursting veins and arteries. Hot like fire and cold like ice all at once.

"How―" Her fists clenched, her hold so tight that her fingernails threatened to pierce the flesh of her palm. Cold. Hotcoldhotcold. She felt the warm trickling of blood on her palms. Hot. Hotcoldhotcold. Empty.

"―Did I find out? You see, I've got eyes all over the school, and one of them saw you talking to a teacher after class. They also saw a big, fat F on your test paper. Huh, still think you're so perfect?"

They knew. Caelia knew and she was going to tell everyone. Tell them all that Flair fell short at the single thing she excelled at. The single thing she was supposed to excel at. They already knew she'd had a late start to the athletics season, but being smart was something everyone expected her to hold onto. Something she was never supposed to lose. She'd let it slip once, and she'd lose everything because of it. Flair couldn't breathe.

"I've never claimed to be perfect, Caelia, despite what you may think," Flair said, and tried to keep her voice from trembling, but she was shaking and she didn't know how to stop ― or if she wanted to stop at all. The temptation to hurt Caelia was overwhelming, and she didn't know if she'd be able to keep it down. She didn't know if she wanted to hold that part of her back.

She breathed in deeply but it didn't help, she wasn't calming down. She was burning from the inside.

"Did you get my message? The rest of the school did, and now they all know. They know you're crazy and they know Arlo would've been better off with me, but everyone knew that already. I'm sure you did, too."

"I'm not crazy."

"Okay, whatever, Flair. I have to go, so if you could let yourself out, that would be great."

Oxygen seemed to escape Flair's lungs and she couldn't get it back. In, out, in, out. God, god, god.

Caelia's eyes tightened. "You really are psychotic."

In, out, in, out. Flair knew things, too. She wasn't the only one with a secret. "A psycho that knows about your little holiday in Cara'cius with a Witch." Her lungs felt like ice, her fingertips numb.

"No-" Caelia began, teeth clenched.

"Yes, you little bitch. And if you try to tell anyone about my slip-up, I'll have to tell your parents what, or who, their sweet little girl was doing, when she should've been at school." If Flair wasn't so angry, she could've grinned. Maybe she was psychotic. It didn't seem like such a bad thing.

Caelia's eyes narrowed, and she said, "You don't have any proof at all. What makes you think they'll believe you?"

Flair didn't care anymore. Not about any of it. She felt rage fill her veins like adrenaline. Her lungs thawed. She knew that no matter what happened, Caelia wouldn't stop finding ways to hurt her, to show others her weakness.

That was when she snapped.

Caelia was hit with a sudden gust of wind, thrown into the wall beside her bed. Celia screamed and Flair's blood thrummed in her ears. There was a crack, and normally, Flair would flinch or step back. Blood repulsed her, but today she remained where she stood, muscles tensed. Paper, stationery, and clothes orbited around her, flying faster and faster. She couldn't feel the wind, but she could see it around her in streaks ― a wall of spinning air. She felt like she couldn't breathe and the anger was closing in on her. She told herself she had to stop. She had to.

Caelia was thrown from one side of the room to the other. Flair closed her eyes and held her breath, she was desperate now, she couldn't hurt Caelia. But had she already? Why isn't she fighting back? Shouldn't she be able to control the wind or even slow it down? Flair wished she'd fight back.

The wind slowed down as Flair's breathing became regular. Objects clattered to the floor and Caelia fell. The wind became a light breeze, and then nothing at all. Like it wasn't there, but she knew it had been, because Caelia was on the floor in a heap of limbs, and there was blood. So much blood.

Flair didn't know what to do, because she knew she hated Caelia and that Caelia was a whole different kind of bitch, but she didn't know if she deserved that. What have I done? Her head hurt and now that the anger was gone, she felt this trembling emptiness.

She wanted to scream, cry, and yell at herself. How could she have let herself do that? Let her magic take control. She paused. She needed to help Caelia. She wanted to help her. She didn't want her to die.

But, wants and needs aside, she found herself running from Caelia's room. She supposed she was weak like that.

Blood stained her blonde hair. It was everywhere. Beneath her nails and running down her arms. Everywhere but in her body. Caelia felt her blood pulse as it fled her body. Pain ate away at the tips of her fingers and the ends of her legs. Her head spun and the room spun with it. Her phone was on the desk. She needed to phone someone. She needed help, but her limbs wouldn't respond. Her fingertips trembled.

She tried to summon wind, but not even her magic would respond to her. Her head felt heavy and she knew it wouldn't be long before she passed out.

Adrenaline filled her veins and wind filled the room once more. But this was a wind she controlled. It caressed her skin, kissed her eyelids. She let the wind pull her phone from the desk and let it fall beside her. Her muscles buzzed as she pulled herself toward the phone.

The tips of her fingers felt like ice against her phone's glass screen. Blood smudged the keys as she dialled her last called number. It rang three times before Fern answered. She could hear the thrum of blood in her veins, right beside her hear.

"Caelia?"

Her hands shook and she let her phone go. Thunder rumbled in the distance. Lightning lit up the night sky outside her dorm's window.

"Help," she choked out, before she was delivered into blackness.

Caelia woke in the Healer's room, worn-out and bruised. She found deep cuts across her skin, and patches of deep purples along her ribs, neck and down her legs.

The IV bag in her arm was filled with a deep purple liquid – most likely a potion to help her body create more red blood cells. From the way her head pulsed, she must have lost a lot of blood. Enough for her to pass out.

Under the pain, Caelia was scared. Of Flair, of what she knew, of what would happen if her secret got out. But perhaps more than that, she was pulsing with anger. There was only one other person that knew about her excursion to Cara'cius. The person that she'd called her best and most trusted friend for three years ― Fern.