02.04.202X - 03.04.202X - No Relief

02.04. - 03.04.202X – NO RELIEF

Sayori stood in the shower, the mirror of the medicine cabinet already misted over. She was sore, sore and weak, almost unable to move her arms high enough to scrub her aching shoulders clean, sweat and skin oils and small particles of lint and dust slowly giving way to the mango-scented body wash she’d insisted on slipping into her pack back in Ekron.

Outside, the rain was steadily drumming on the steel roof, not really starting again, rather resuming what had begun in the morning. The forest was out there as well, somewhere past the mango-scented cloud that enveloped her aching body, likely as wet and miserable as she had been earlier.

But foreboding?

No, not anymore, not in the same way. Katie had ”finished up” her – no, their – workout with a short jog along a barely visible, but well-worn trail, going up and down hills and dodging underbrush until she found herself throwing up in her mouth.

And then, into a bush.

Katie had stopped, that much she remembered, and she also remembered the look of worry on her face, and the ragged breaths both of them had let out, and then, the look of surprise – and something else? - she gave her as she took off again, thighs and calves burning with exertion, her soaking wet Converse slapping against the trail with a steady rhythm.

She hadn’t left her far behind, and she wouldn’t stay behind for long, not Katie, but… still.

That look of surprise, that slight twinkle in her eyes as she broke into a run again, that had made it all worth it. Even after that, when the light drizzle turned into pouring rain, and Katie cursed because they’d left the weights outside, when she half-heartedly followed along with the post-workout stretching, her mind had been elsewhere, a small, flickering, defiant flame burning inside her chest despite the howling wind and pouring rain.

Then, protein shakes, more wood into the boiler, going in after Katie and enjoying the warmth even with the almost-nonexistent water pressure and the faint hint of rust in the air.

...

“Fuck, I wish we had a sauna somewhere, ya know?” Sayori cocked her head as Katie chugged down bottled water. “Hot steam and cold showers, girl. When you're ready to pass out, you're clean.”

Sayori grinned at the mental image. “...and a bottle of fruit milk to top it off...”

“Since when does your bust need to grow, though?” Katie shook her head.

“Come on, it's not really because of that - it's just an excuse to down some liquid calories for most.” Sayori chuckled and shook her head. “I've never met anyone that unironically believes in that stuff post-junior high, hehe...”

“Good to know I'm still young at heart then.” Katie winked, but soon grimaced. “...Eugh. Context.”

“Mm, heh...” The last of her protein powder-and-oatmeal-mixture went down, each sip smoother than the last. “This beats fruit milk, no compe. Is it just protein, oats and water?”

“Protein, oats, milk and creatine, actually. Gotta use up the perishables...” Katie stretched and dusted herself off, “...and milk makes whey taste nice and rich.”

“Mm.” Creatine? Sayori made to follow, unsure how much she should ask about it. Weightlifting was never that big back home, so she was out of her depth, but loving every moment.”How... much?”

“What are you, a forum post from 2010?” Katie laughed and shook her head. “Five grams. It's totally safe to use... except if your renal system is fucked from before…”

…

knock

knock

”Sayori?” Katie’s voice pierced through the haze, muffled and cheerful. ”Did you fall over and die in there or something?”

”Uh… yeah, kinda! Just a moment, I’m resurrecting myself…”

”Right.” She heard a quiet chuckle from outside, and couldn’t help smiling a little. Katie was probably shaking her head, a look of exasperated amusement on her face. ”Just checking in.”

Sayori screwed the tap shut and draped herself in a towel, then reached for the scraper in the corner, leaving wet footprints on the warm, brown tile floor as she tried her best to shepherd the water and shampoo suds into the drain, feeling warm and raw and... quite content.

Hazy, maybe? Not like the disconnected haze her benzos gave her, no, she was achy and proud and tired, but in a good way. It felt like she’d done something, something worth feeling good about.

She was initially going to leave the mirror alone, but then decided to wipe the misted-over glass with the side of her hand. She was red, like a boiled lobster, and she grimaced slightly at her reflection. Still, her arms, her legs, they looked a bit wider than before – or maybe she was just imagining things – muscle fibers torn and the muscle itself engorged with blood.

Maybe it was better to not spend too much time in front of the mirror.

She turned her back, rummaging after the blow-dryer, her smile faltering for a moment.

Never mind.

At least Katie’s conditioner was good. Blueberry-scented, very nice – I wonder why Katie picked this one in particular? I guess it fits the color, if nothing else… and suits dry hair as well.

Nice.

Fluffy.

The hair dryer spun up with a whir, and a blast of hot air crashed into her face, sending a shiver down her spine. This was always nice, even though it took a while to get her hair the way she liked it. Maybe it was pointless – it would turn into an absolute mess come morning, if not sooner, but… I don’t know. Maybe a ponytail would be more convenient? She bunched her hair up with her free hand and glanced at the mirror.

No, she just looked weird like that. Looked too weird and felt too naked. She carefully combed and dried her hair, let her bangs fall into place, slipped into yet another unfamiliar band tee – the print looked like chicken scratches to her, but maybe she shouldn’t tell Katie that – that was just loose enough to hide everything she preferred to keep hidden.

As she was pulling her socks on, Sayori froze.

Her cycle was late. She hadn’t really paid attention to it in the hospital, not with the fuzzy chemical cloud she had been floating on for the few monotone, sterile weeks she had spent there. She reached down to check, and noticed that her hand was shaking as she desperately looked for the slightest trace of blood. There was a fresh, punctured callus on her palm, the skin on her fingers had shriveled in the shower, but there wasn’t a fleck anywhere.

breathe

in three seconds

hold five seconds

out

It’s not like it hadn’t been late before. Like almost every exam week, or when she was stressing out about coming here, or when Kaede had been in the hospital before she…

No, no, no. Happy thoughts, happy thoughts.

But try as she might, she couldn’t stop thinking that this time wasn’t like the others, that she wasn’t sure if the sinking, disgusting feeling in her stomach was just disgust or something else, something far worse entirely, something…

She toweled herself off, quickly, carelessly, got dressed, and opened the door. Katie was nowhere to be seen, and she wasn’t sure if she should feel sad or happy about it, so she didn’t, and her hurried footsteps moved down the hall to the guest bedroom where she carefully opened the drawer, taking out a rectangular, triscored tablet labeled U94 before snapping it in half and placing it under her tongue with shaking fingers.

It was bitter, as always.

Truth is a bitter pill to swallow.

Although, this was more like anti-truth, if anything, a coat of paint to cover the cracks forming in her mind, and it lasted about as long. But it lasted long enough, for now, long enough to pass out and enjoy the sweet oblivion of dreamless sleep, long enough to maybe figure something out, something she’d overlooked, maybe even long enough to wake up with a spot of fresh blood in her underwear, and everything would be okay after all, and…

Long enough to wake up and immediately rush to the toilet and puke her guts out. Long enough to wake up bleary-eyed and panicking again, with Katie asking her questions, questions, questions – questions she had no idea how to even answer, or if she even wanted to answer anything, and whether or not she’d even say anything, she already knew that exact look of concern and worry Katie would give her, her tone of voice, the whole package, because she was just a little god-damn victim, wasn’t she?

Handle with care. This side up.

Fragile.

Wasn’t motherhood supposed to be a beautiful thing?

Yes, but not for you.

She swallowed the last of the bitter residue, took a deep breath, and felt the cloudy alprazolam haze slowly start obscuring her anxieties, but not before noting – with a bitter smile – that right now, she’d almost prefer being a perpetrator, rather than just being a victim.

God, anything but a victim.

Anything but that.

Wasn’t this enough already? It was almost – she yawned, stretching her arms out – tiring, the way everything just... kept on going. God’s sake, was it tiring. Sayori slumped down on the guest room bed, onto her side, curling up slightly, eyes cloudy, staring at nothing.

Anything but a victim.

Kate laid on her stomach, her fingers drumming out an insistent rhythm on the floorboards, carefully nodding her head along to the music so as to not send her headphones flying again. Things weren’t too bad – a full stomach, a (fairly) stocked fridge, her records and a good workout, to top it all off. A really good workout.

She’d been surprised at how well Sayori had performed, especially during their little run in the forest – surprised and proud. She might have been quite scrawny, all things considered – the grooves of her ribs were so easy to trace through her sweater, and they accommodated her fingers almost perfectly...

But there was something about her, something that, in part, reminded her of herself at that age. Confident she was not, and neither was she rowdy, but… there was something there. Not yet a flame, not even a glowing ember yet, but a spark, at the very least.

That much was clear, just from looking into her eyes earlier today. It was a nice juxtaposition – a calm, comforting blue, like a picture of the Mediterranean, and a glow behind it, something so very hard to describe but so very obvious to even a casual onlooker-

Okay, maybe not quite that obvious.

Stop putting her on a pedestal.

Kate snorted and shook her head, eyes closed. But the images her mind conjured up for her were almost enough to make her blush, and she briefly wondered if she could just hop into the shower again and just… get it out of her system as quickly and quietly as possible.

Most likely not.

But maybe this was it?

There was something inside the girl, something repressed and fiery, something yearning to be free. Something Kate had seen hints and brief flashes of, now and then, but hadn’t recognized before now, and even then, this was something that would take a long time to fully piece together, to know.

Perhaps that’s what felt so familiar about her. Maybe it wasn’t quite the same thing she had been forced to push away for years before finally snapping, but she recognized repression when she saw it. Maybe that’s why she was so… doting? No, not quite – their argument from just a couple days back was more than enough to disprove that, but…

Kate groaned quietly. What did she feel towards her?

...apart from the obvious, of course.

Maybe it was just protective instict of some kind, just cranked up to eleven? But that wasn’t far from being… possessive.

And maybe, Kate worried, that was exactly it.

She’d never been… good with jealousy.

Or not jealousy per se, but...

Maybe she was stifling her, instead of letting her learn on her own? Like trapping a butterfly inside it’s own cocoon? And for what? As far as she knew, most of what she felt was still… unrequited.

And she’d never been one for coquettishly dropping veiled, coy hints. Maybe she had the sublety of a brick, maybe she was a bit too… forward, but she’d rather shoot her shot, seize opportunity by the throat, than beat around the bush for half a year and accomplish nothing of value.

For all the good that had done her.

Not much in the way of opportunity yet...

...if ever.

For what it was worth, she could at least read body language quite well, and even without that, there were lines she wouldn’t cross, not without express consent, no matter how much she yearned to do so.

They were finally giving each other some space, at least, and all things considered, that might be the best way forward. She’d come around when she came around, no sweat.

...if she ever did.

Still… metamorphosis was a scary thing, and just standing by while someone else was struggling, when someone else might need… if not her help, then her guidance, at least, was frustrating.

Almost painful, in fact.

But where did the line between encouragement and control run, exactly?

Kate sighed and rolled over, the back of her palm resting on her forehead, her eyes trying to find purchase somewhere on the ceiling, with the flaky paint next to the doorframe that she hadn’t been allowed to strip and paint over, because… nevermind.

Question of the year, wasn’t it? Still, better that, than the trial of the-

No, stop.

Was Sayori still in the shower? She didn’t want to… stifle her too much, but at this rate, she’d be draining the entire aquifer. No more showers – hot or cold – in the morning. Okay, hyperbole, methinks the lady doth protest too much, so on, and post-workout soreness wasn’t something she wanted to downplay, but if the ceiling in the living room started leaking shower water again, then…

Then what?

Kate huffed. She’d have Sayori scrub and caulk every seam in the entire room. That was long overdue, anyway, she’d offered to do it months ago, but grandpa had been very… old-fashioned. And not in a gentlemanly way. And mom had just went along with whatever he said, and…

Relax. Breathe.

But it still stung.

She was able-bodied, more than able-bodied enugh, she knew how to fix most everything around the house – even if she had to do it in secret sometimes – and if it hadn’t been for grandpa, there wouldn’t be any mold, any flaking paint or worn wallpaper, any dripping faucets anywhere.

But women were supposed to cook and clean and maybe, just maybe, work as nurses – not doctors – not come home with black eyes and cracked ribs from throwing down in Louisville mosh-pits, not pierce their faces, not dye their hair…

She turned up the volume on her stereo, the distorted bass and guitars now more physical sensation than sound, and just laid still for a minute, her right hand – the one with the close-clipped nails – balling into a white-knuckled fist, an angry stare directed at the flaking paint above the doorway. That little spot almost summed up just about everything she’d hated about growing up here, about living on this god-forsaken farm that smelled like dust and firewood and old people.

And how liberating it had felt to accidentally stumble into an all-ages hardcore show one day, long ago, underage and stupid and slightly tipsy, and being blown away by the raw energy, the conviction in the mid-set political speeches that finally made her feel seen and heard and, above all, no longer alone.

The acquaintances she’d tentatively made, sticking out like a sore thumb, her hair still a plain brown, talking and joking and drinking with guys and girls of all ages, some with spiked neon mohawks and studded leather jackets, others in bandannas, sportswear and band hoodies, and how much her life – her entire identity – had changed after that.

That’s what had finally galvanized her occasional acts of refusal and resistance into a full-on rebellious streak. That was when she got her piercings and started dying her hair. That was when she donated most of her wardrobe to a local Goodwill and replaced it with band shirts, sportswear and ripped jeans. That was when Catherine – quiet but frustrated, a wallflower, the product of a dysfunctional family – that was when she turned into Kate.

Into who she was meant to be all along, perhaps?

Maybe. Who knows.

Was she happy? No, but then again, she hadn't been happy before the change, either. At least she felt at home now. In her body, in her clothes, in her attitude towards life. Sure, maybe she couldn't be young and angry and radical forever, but... it was still better than willfully wearing blinders like a fucking donkey.

And how much of her current happiness – or lack thereof – was due to the current situation? At least work and exercise kept her content, but the last few days had been an absolute emotional roller-coaster, and...

Oh. Right. Sayori. The shower.

Kate took off her headphones – God, had it really been that loud? - and turned down the volume, listening for the tell-tale sound of rushing water.

Nothing.

Yeah, they’d started giving each other a bit of space, but… it was late. Sayori should have been here by now, worming herself into the chilly pillows and blankets and her embrace-

She doesn’t owe you that. She doesn’t owe you intimacy, and even thinking that is... If she sleeps better alone now, then… thats good... right?

God, even her internal monologue felt hollow.

Reassurances that... didn’t.

And the tiny, bitter pang of… something she felt upon the realization that Sayori might have already outgrown her nest made her heart sink a little.

Guilt.

She shouldn’t feel this way.

She should be happy, maybe even proud... but all she could focus on was how much she’d miss the feeling of wrapping her arms around Sayori’s waist, tracing her ribs, and burying her nose into her hair while she slept. Like a goddamn child that was denied her favorite toy…

She is not your toy. STOP-

She sat up into a lotus position, then stood up on the sides of her feet, legs briefly crossed. That was always a fun trick.

Not so fun now, though.

Her left hand absentmindedly ran up and down her back and butt, instinctively brushing off dust and dirt as her bare feet softly trod their way out of her room and into the hall. She listened. Nothing, and a cursory check inside the bathroom showed a light dusting of mist on the mirrors, a floor scraped clean… Kate smiled a little.

Then, she frowned – the hair dryer was still plugged in, turned off as it was. And the towel had been left on the floor, still damp. She pulled the plug out, wrapping the cord into a neat circle, and placed it in the cabinet, on top of a stack of neatly-folded towels, then hung the soggy towel over the bathroom door. She stepped into something wet and cold, and reflexively flinched, before looking down. Drops of water, leading out of the bathroom. (Kate’s frown became concerned.?)

There was a clear trail to follow, wet spots on the floorboards, occasional droplets here and there. Kate’s initial, purposeful, heavy footsteps grew quieter as she slowly walked down the hallway, carefully running her fingers along the wall with the worn wallpaper and the fucking-

Never mind. Sayori now, reminisce later.

The door to the guest bedroom was halfway open, and Kate carefully peeked inside. There she is. Laying on the bed, no doubt knocked out by how hard she’d trained today. Kate smiled, carefully approaching Sayori, her slight, scrawny body curled up on the duvet, eyes half-open, her lips moving in a silent murmur.

“Hey there…” Kate started, quietly. “All tuckered out? You went pretty hard today…”

“Mm.” Not much of an answer. Kate hovered next to the bed for a few pregnant seconds, before mentally saying fuck it and sitting down on the bed, next to Sayori. “Kind of… tired. Sorry.”

“Right…” Sayori’s voice sounded hollow, and Kate’s smile felt more plastered on, than anything. She carefully reached her hand out to stroke her hair, before stopping herself. “Do you… do you mind if I… you know, stroke your hair? A little?”

Sayori shook her head, almost imperceptibly, then nodded, then, in a tired voice, said “...go ahead.”

And so she did, gently running her fingers through her hair, tucking errant bangs and locks behind her ear before undoing her work again, repeatedly, the grandfather clock in the hallway ticking insistently, counting seconds, minutes.

Hours.

“So…” Kate cleared her throat, her voice thick and hoarse. “So, I guess you’re sleeping here now?”

She hazarded a smile, but Sayori wouldn’t look up. As Kate stroked her hair, she felt Sayori shake her head again, almost imperceptible, were it not for her hand gently playing with her locks.

“Oh?” Kate had to suppress the smile growing on her face.

Guilt.

Guilt. So much guilt.

Guilt and pleasure, in equal measure.

“Well, it’s getting kinda late… are you coming, or should I just wait for you?”

“…I’ll be there.” Sayori answered, almost emotionless, almost wiping Kate’s smile off her face with how worn she sounded. And what she said next wiped her smile away completely. “Do you… do we have any… p-pregnancy tests?”

“Pregna-”

Of course I don’t. I don’t swing that way.

And if I did, I’d be on birth control anyway.

Why even ask?

Then, a deep, shuddering inhale, as the gravity of the situation hit her. “I’ll… see what I can do. Tomorrow. Okay?”

She gave Sayori an affectionate squeeze on the shoulder, then almost sat up to leave, but looking at the girl again, she seemed so small, so miserable, shuddering slightly from the chill – or was it something else? – that she couldn’t quite bring herself to leave.

So, Kate stayed, gently stroking Sayori’s hair, her face, her shoulder, and time passed, the grandfather clock ticking away.

They’d eventually gotten to bed – Sayori had fallen asleep in the guest bedroom, and Kate had elected to pick her up and princess-carried her to the bedroom, where she had crawled and wormed her way closer to Kate, her arms wrapped around Sayori’s slight frame, carefully tracing her ribs through her shirt, her thoughts a maelstrom of confusion, anger, and guilty satisfaction.

Not like she hadn’t been able to read between the lines when they’d talked earlier, but… no birth control? No protection? She had to fight the urge to call her a stupid girl – for all the good that would have done either of them – but now, having digested the information, having done her best to reconstruct the horrible fucking shit that had happened to Sayori, she found her fists balling up again into a white-knuckled death grip, just wishing she could choke the life out of the motherfucker that had done this to her.

...but first, do no harm...

Yeah, fuck that.

She knew the type, had even dated one way, way back – the typical excuses, lies, bullshit… “latex allergy”, yeah, sure.

At least she’d been on birth control at the time, and they didn’t last very long together either way – for the better, honestly, but… she’d already shed the last vestiges of her naïvete by then. Sayori clearly hadn’t, not yet, and it was doubtful if she ever would.

Kate buried her nose in Sayori’s hair, a deep, almost greedy inhale following that. Mango and blueberries. She’d just picked her conditioner out at random long ago, and stuck to the same brand since. Only later, after a series of strange – but fun – bedfellows (or pillow friends?) had she realized the connection.

Very funny. Blue hair, blueberries, ha-ha.

At least Sayori was sleeping soundly. Kate probably wouldn’t, not for an hour or two. Too much shit going on. She carefully brushed her lips against Sayori’s neck, let her fingers wander a little – but never below the waistline. Never. This might already have been too much.

As she did so, her mind went to work. Ekron was a no-go zone now, and from what they’d seen at the checkpoint in Rosewood… Kate shuddered with revulsion. But the gas station – the one where she had been attacked – was far enough from the center of town, perhaps far enough away to avoid any unwanted attention. Sneak in, if the rain continued as it had.

She wasn’t looking forward to another… outing, not so soon after their last close call, not with her entire body sore – not to even speak of Sayori, she’d be lucky if she could even walk, but… I have to.

Have to at least try.

The clinic would have been a sure spot for the test- for what she needed, but it was smack-dab in the middle of town, and Kate had a sinking feeling about that kind of an enterprise, a near-certain suspicion that they wouldn’t be nearly as lucky – or unnoticed – as they had been when they left the place. So, gas station it was. Living on a prayer.

They could always scope it out, from afar at first, then, if everything looked safe… Kate slumped onto her back, squeezed her eyes shut, the top of her wrist rubbing against her forehead. She could feel a migraine coming on, and felt a brief flash of envy at the quiet, sleepy snuffling she heard from Sayori.

Then, guilt, again, and she groaned.

“God, Catherine, when will you learn to just… control yourself?”

Fuck you. Not now, likely never. Hope you enjoy Tennessee.

Kate stroked Sayori’s hair, and the content mumble she got in response brought even more images to mind, more... thoughts, and now she couldn’t be bothered anymore. Her eyes shot wide open, filing away the thoughts she’d just had for immediate use, then Kate carefully snaked her arm out from underneath Sayori, gently covered her with the crumpled blanket, and slowly, quietly made her way to the guest bedroom, shivering slightly from the sudden cold.

At least there was one spot that was warm.

More than warm.

She wouldn’t return for over an hour.