Children of Fire (Complete)

fifty-one

Emerson

When I woke up, Gideon was gone. He had left a note on his bedside table telling me that he had some club business to take care of and that he would call me later on in the afternoon and let me know when he would be home. I wasn't upset, honestly I could use some more alone time. I needed to process what had happened with Cassidy, but more than that I needed to process what I was feeling at the time-- how I had so easily accepted the fact that killing her may have been a better option.

I had been internally struggling with how unaffected I was at the thought of taking another persons life with my bare hands, and it wasn't getting any easier to accept that this was who I was becoming. What really terrified me was that I didn't mind becoming that person. I wanted to be ruthless, I wanted to be feared, and I wanted the respect that came with people knowing that I wouldn't let anyone fuck with me or the people I cared about.

Ultimately, I suppose that feeling mainly stemmed from the fact that I had been walked all over most of my life. I had been shy and timid in my friendship with Clary. She had called the shots, and I had followed her aimlessly. She slept with my boyfriend and I never got the chance to beat her ass or even prove to her that I was truly pissed. She probably still thought that she could walk all over me and I would just take it. I had been timid in my relationship with Greyson as well, allowing him to belittle and berate me, hit me and abuse me. He took everything from me, even when I didn't have anything left to give. I wasn't that girl anymore, I wouldn't allow myself to feel inferior ever again.

Maybe that was why I found myself sitting in the furthest table of the common area, alone, staring at the bleak walls with a cup of coffee in hand. I was trying to decide if letting Cassidy live was my best option. It was too late to go and kill her now, I would look like a person with no values if I went back on my word. If she fucked up again, though, I most definitely would kill her. Maybe I should provoke her so I can just get it over with rather than living in constant what ifs. I felt like, with Cassidy alive, I would have to constantly look over my shoulder to make sure she wasn't looming there with another knife in hand, ready to stab me again.

I suppose now I needed to actually learn how to defend myself better. I wasn't totally incapable-- I knew how to shoot a gun fairly well, might I add. I knew how to get out of a few 'death grips' and how to pick a lock should I find myself trapped or needing to get inside of somewhere. I could wriggle my way out of just about anything tied around my wrists, and I was pretty good at landing a punch or two. I even had good intuition about most things, but I couldn't defend myself well. I wasn't fast, and I couldn't dodge because... well because all I knew how to do was run.

And I was tired of running, I refused.

Later on that afternoon, I started getting dressed to head back to Tilly's. These past few days I spent recovering had been weird, and if Gideon wouldn't have insisted that I stay and rest I would have already gone back. I didn't really know what to wear most days, it wasn't like at the bar when my job title was clear and more laid back. No, now I was in charge of the whole thing. Did I dress like a bartender or a professional? Lately I had been choosing the professional stage-mother look that most upscale strip clubs or escort services usually had (I've worked some real... interesting places over the years--quick and fast money).

Tonight, I chose a dress that Kya had let me borrow. It was an unusual color choice for me, considering my style was what Crystal would call gloomy, but I really liked the contrast against my porcelain skin-- which wasn't saying much. I shimmied into the skin-tight white dress, it hugged my curves in all the right places and didn't make me feel uncomfortable at the same time. The plunging neckline showed off the tattoo on my chest and showed just enough cleavage to make a man wonder. There were shoulder pads, which totally wasn't my thing but looked killer on this dress. Dainty silver chains were draped across the shoulders and fell down my arms. It was pretty short, and if the dress hadn't looked as sleep as it does it definitely wouldn't be appropriate unless I found myself dancing onstage that night.