Chapter Text
I wake up in a deep, blank abyss. If my mind had been grateful enough to let me have control over my movements, I’m sure I would have screamed.
It feels like I’ve been plunged in a cold ice bath, and needles prick at my skin as I try to make sense of everything.
I know where this is going. A dream, I had hoped they would’ve stopped by now.
If I had to predict what would happen next, I’d get it right on the nose.
First, I thought. A light will appear from the bottom of the room.
It went exactly as planned. I could feel ghost tears run down the back of my neck as the place filled with brightness. As I craned my neck, I was able to make out a face. It hadn’t changed from the dozens of other times I had gone through this dream.
Pomni was falling. Now that I took note of it, I was falling too. No wind rushing through my fur, just static as my limbs flared through empty space.
I snap my eyes shut, wishing it to be over already, wishing I was anywhere but here.
“Jax?” I heard Pomni’s voice from below. She was falling faster than me. She wouldn’t win. I knew that. No matter what I did to try and stop it (if I even did try to stop it), Pomni would always lose.
Why had I tried to fall back asleep? It didn’t matter what happened, the nightmares weren’t just going to magically disappear.
‘
Wishing I had a way to close my hearing, I went silent as her voice persisted.
“Jax, I want you to-”
“Shut up,” I order. I would’ve never been so harsh on Pomni, but she wasn’t real. None of this was real. Right now, at least.
“I want you to leave.” Her voice still stays in the same soft tone, but the words sound warped and sickeningly mocking to my ears after having heard it so many times.
“I said, shut up!” I twist my body, trying to make a grab at her. My hands are so close, I’m so close. Not enough to reach her, however, and she disappears right in front of my eyes as my surroundings change. At least the scene had transferred quicker this time, I’m not in the mood to hear any more of the jester’s voice.
I come to in an abandoned building. My back aches, and as I get up from the wall every muscle in my body feels horribly stiff. My head catches on a spider web before I have a chance to avoid it, and I spook, bumping my head against a low hanging pillar.
The C&A office, I know this. I know I’m not actually there, I’m sleeping on the floor right now. Still, my brain fills with panic and I rush to scramble out of the doors. I feel like I’m being watched, like hundreds of Caine’s eyes are on me. My skin crawls and my footsteps become more determined to get out of this place.
Why am I here? I think. That’s obvious. Pomni threw the game, as I told her not to, making me the winner of that sick game. And I had gotten the grand prize as promised, but I didn’t want it.
I can almost feel my feet start to sink through the floor, and I stop, looking down. They’re actually sinking. That’s new. Or is it? I can never remember any of these experiences in detail, except for the fact that I actually had them.
Struggling, I cry in frustration as I can’t escape. The floor pulls me down further, and now my shoes are completely covered.
Pure fear engulfs me, and I freeze, not knowing what to do. All I can feel is dread as my body sinks further and further.
Finally, when I’m nearly down to my torso, I snap my body with all of the force I can muster. There’s a sickening crack!, and the setting changes.
A dark room, and someone familiar kneeling over me. I’m back to earth.
Skye’s eyes widen, and I can feel a sting on my cheek.
“Did you just slap me?” I ask, slowly sitting up. Her heavy-lidded eyes stare back at me. Had she ever even fallen asleep? It doesn’t look like it, a voice in the back of my mind answers. I hadn’t thought that. I turn my head around to try and catch the voice, but I lose it as Skye answers.
“Pretty sure I did.”
A laugh escapes me. “Thank you for that,” I say, and I’m truthful when I say it. I’m glad to be done with that nightmare. Already, the details of it start to slip from my mind. They never affect me during the day, but I do know it hurts like hell when I’m living them.
Nightmare. It’s a funny word, isn’t it? Sounds childish, like I’m still a 7 year old who needs her mommy to tuck them into bed. My mouth sours at the thought, and I chew the inside of my cheek to distract me from the feeling.
“It’s fine,” Skye dismisses, waving their hand. “I know what the nightmares are like. It took six months to rid myself of them.”
As she spoke, the wooden flooring beneath my hand was cold enough to make my hands go numb. The air cooling must’ve kicked in some time during my sleep.
I lifted up my head. “How long was I sleeping for?”
“Only two hours or so,” Skye answers. I fully stand up on my legs, running a hand through my hair as a habit. God, it’s fucked up. My fingers catch on a tangle almost immediately, and I have to bite my lip to avoid wincing. How long has it been since I brushed it last?
“That’s a record.” Based on my watch, whenever I woke up it would be at least 3 hours since I fell asleep. Not that getting less sleep was a good thing, but I couldn’t help but point it out.
“Good or bad record?”
“Bad.”
Skye’s mouth makes a small, barely noticeable upside down “U” shape. I give her what I intend to be an apologetic smile, she doesn’t need to worry about me. “It’s fine,” I add, giving a slight shrug of my shoulders. “I’ve slept so much these past few weeks, I think I can bother with losing a few hours of rest.”
A lie this time. I’ve barely slept at all since I escaped the circus. Normally, I wake up from the daily bad dream and refuse to go back to bed, instead spending the rest of the night doing something repetitive like counting the number of bugs scurrying on the floor at whatever time it might be.
They cock their head slightly, turning away. I breathe a soft sigh of relief as she goes to open one of her cabinets, back to normal.
Skye grabs a slice of thick drawing paper, laying it down on the desk.
“Draw,” she commands, passing me what seems to be a charcoal pencil.
Instinctually, I catch it. “What?” It’s my turn to be confused, my head tilts as she turns the light on in the room, engulfing it in pure white for a moment until my eyes adjust.
“Whenever I had a nightmare,” she explains. “Which was a lot of times, I just drew a scene I remembered out on paper.” Skye points at a canvas hanging above her bed: Me and her taking a screenshot near the Eiffel Tower. The triangular building looms above us as Bubble pops up in the top right corner, photobombing us.
“It helped, a lot.”
I scoff. “Fine, I’ll try it.” I bring the tip of the pencil to the sheet in front of me and start to sketch, not letting my mind think about what I’m trying to draw.
After around two minutes pass, I focus back on the paper, and a clear idea has already formed. It’s the scene of me and Pomni falling from the competition. Taking a deep breath, I look over my shoulder. Skye’s watching from the bed, but not close enough to see the drawing. Thankful she’s giving me privacy, I turn back and continue on it.
I add the two yellow pompoms onto Pomni’s chest, and the blush underneath her cheeks, tracing my pencil over the spots lightly to try and add a contrasting color from the rest of the face. For myself..
God, I realize. My design’s ugly as hell. My ears shoot straight out of my head, the smile that takes up over half of my face is yellow, and my peach overalls are a horrible design choice over my frame. I honestly prefer how I look in the maid dress.
I do hate my human body, but I definitely don’t wish to be in that rabbit state again. Besides, at least I can control how I look here.
For myself, I try to draw the thin lines separating my teeth, which I mess up at least 5 times, the buttons to my overalls, and my shrunken pupils. Then everything is done.
Finished, I hold up my paper, and my chest feels significantly (surprisingly) lighter. Looking at the drawing is painful, it forces me to remember, but it feels kind of better to have it physically now, instead of just existing in my mind.
Sighing, I crumple it into a ball and stuff it into the pocket in my jacket. I’ll keep it on me, just in case. “I’m done now,” I tell Skye, and walk up to where she’s sitting. They have a smile on their face, one that turns slightly teasing as she prompts me. “You feel better now, don’t you?” I nod.
“See? I always have the best ideas.” Skye grins even wider as she jokes and I laugh, something that’s happened quite often in the past 12 hours.
“I’ll be sure to ask for your advice every time something goes wrong.”
The room feels shockingly cold as we fall into a comfortable silence, just sharing each other’s company. I don’t remember Florida nights being so chilly. This isn’t going to last. I flinch from the thought that I had not made. Skye looks back at me quizzically, but I shake my head, giving a slight smile as to not bother her.
Ignoring the voice once again, I think back to the cold. It tingles my skin, but not in the harsh way the abyss had made me feel. Instead, it soaks into my skin and injects itself into my veins, making me awake, a sensation I haven’t felt in a while.
Feeling awake is never a good thing for me, which is why I try to, and successfully, avoid it so much. It leads to thoughts, and voices. The voice in my head speaks up again, and this time I finally recognize her.
We didn’t need to escape the circus, she says, voice tinged with venom disguised as reason.
Why are you back? I ask, trying to dismiss her. Panic blooms under my skin. I got rid of her a long time ago, why now? We didn’t even want to be here, she says, completely disregarding the question Think about the life Ragatha could’ve lived if she was free, the life Pomni could’ve lived. I stand quickly and my body gives a jerk, as if struck, banging my elbow against the chair.
Shut up! I reply, hissing slightly as Skye makes her way to me.
“Fuck, that hurts!” I say without thinking. Only when I see Skye’s eyebrows soften in pity do I realize I’ve made a mistake. I’ve just made things worse on her. She’s already sharing her room with me, I’ve taken up her entire floor! And now she probably thinks I’m hurt and needs helping.
“Are you okay?”
“It’s fine.” I smile at her, trying to prove my point. Not wanting to exaggerate my injury, I force myself to pry my other hand off of the injury, trying not to wince as the air stings it. I bring my elbow up to my face, scowling when I see that it’s bleeding. Great.
Skye notices it too, as they put a hand over their mouth as if shocked to see me hurt. It’s fine, I want to tell her again. I’ve been through way worse.
“I don’t have a Bandaid!” She moves her hand away from her face, the arm going limp as she makes her way to the door. “I’ll go buy some from CVS, stay where you are,” she says, leaving before I have a chance to protest. Shocked, I sit back down on her bed, clutching my elbow.
We’re going to get her sheets stained, the voice returns, chiding me. I quickly oblige, opting to rest on the floor, supporting my body against the wall. Now she’s spending more money on us, she says.
In my head, I can almost imagine the girl looking up at me with an expression of disgust on her face, disappointed in the person I’ve become.
I am disappointed. I would never make someone waste their savings on me, you should know better. Now that Skye is gone, I have no one to distract myself from her, and I try to cover my ears instead, knowing it won’t work.
That’s a lie, I try to retort. You had always been a greedy child. The air seems to have dropped around 20 degrees in the last minute, and I wrap my arms around myself for warmth.
For warmth? Or for comfort? We have never been able to face the truth, especially when it doesn’t suit us. Honestly, I’m surprised Pomni even wanted to be friends with us. Or had she?
Stop. Don’t bring her into this, you don’t know her.
Don’t I? We’re the same. I’m you, you’re me, I know everything about her. Like how she sacrificed herself for your life back, and you’re wasting it.
Stop. I bring my knees to my chest. The solid wall is making my back and neck cramp, but I try not to focus on it as she continues to play with me. If you wanted me to stop, you could. It’s you keeping this conversation alive, because you think I’m right.
No, I don’t. I’m now struggling to keep my responses neutral, making circles on my left knee with my fingers to try and keep myself calm. Cold air pricks at my eyes, making them feel sensitive. I bury my face in my chest to stop the pain.
You do, she disagrees, voice becoming bolder. You think that you’re in the wrong, that’s why you’re enduring this! Because you want to pretend you’re the victim here. You want to be screamed and yelled at so you can walk up to Skye and look her in the eyes and say, ‘The voice in my head is making me feel bad about everything I did.’ so that she’ll comfort you and you can ignore the things you’re already guilty for!
I open my mouth to respond, to scream at her, but I close it. I don’t respond, because she’s right, isn’t she? Now that I’m by myself, fully aware without anyone to distract me, I can see that she’s telling the truth. I’m a bad person. I stay silent as small tears start to run down my face.
Say it to yourself, she demands. I’m too tired to fight back. I’m a bad person. As I hear the words in my voice, I hear the truth in them. Say it out loud. My throat wants to stay closed, but I force the statement out.
“I’m a bad person.” It comes out of my mouth with difficulty, but it feels right. I feel like I’m choking and the tears start to stain my neck.
Again?
“I’m a bad person.” In my mind, I can see her nod. The sentence feels heavy, weighing down in my body as I try to keep it in. It feels almost freeing to say. “I’m a bad person,” I say again. I like how it feels.
As I start to cry harder, my nose starting to run, I repeat the phrase over and over again. It’s like a damnation, a confession of my sins. I don’t deserve a place in this world, Pomni made the wrong choice. My nails, overgrown from their mistreatment the past month, dig into my skin where they rest. I deserve this pain. I don’t wince as they go deeper, they give me a sense of satisfaction.
A small part in me hopes that they start bleeding. I can imagine Skye coming back and seeing traces of red all over my legs. She’d worry about me, I don’t deserve that worry. I stop, instead shifting my focus to my right elbow, my injury. It’s already fucked up, she wouldn’t notice if I did anything there.
The skin throbs when I try to touch it, the area around the bleeding scraped, pinkish in a cruel way. It fits me. I dig my fingernails into it. I keep a choked sob in at the searing pain, feeling something wet staining my hands.
I’m bleeding, I think faintly.
That’s okay, Skye’ll bring a bandage. I laugh softly at my own mind. God, this is messed up. It’s what we deserve, though.
The voice triggers something in me, and I stop myself. What am I doing? I don’t want to do this. I stop clawing into my wound, terrified of what’s just happened
Don’t go yet, she says, frantic. We haven’t finished. My eyes slip shut, trying to will her away. I can make up for it tomorrow, I promise to her. Just not right now. As I remove my hand, letting it fall limp at my side, my mind is too scrambled to make any sense of it. All I can feel are emotions. Hurt and guilt and anger, I need to rest. If I just rest, all of them will go away.
I let out a faint sigh, relaxing for just a moment. Then someone grabs me by the arm. I snap back awake, Skye’s lips are moving. “Shit, shit, shit!” I can hear her mumble under her breath. When did the door open? I hadn’t heard anything. How did she.., my thoughts stop as she pulls me off of the floor, forcing me to my feet.
“Can you hear me? Jax?” Of course I can. I go to open my mouth, to speak, but my muscles don’t comply. I’m forced to stay frozen as her worry washes over me.
“Shit, I shouldn’t have left you alone,” they say panickingly. “Wait, sit down.” Skye sets me down on the bed as I struggle to say something. As my attempts fail, I grow increasingly frustrated, causing more tears to fall from my face. I can feel my mouth opening and closing, but my voice refuses to come out of it.
What’s going on? I ask myself. Something’s wrong with me, it has to be. Am I having a panic attack or something?
She kneels down next to me, cradling my face. “Try to calm down, breathe,” she pleads. I can’t bring my eyes to hers, embarrassed at my sudden breakdown. I’m struggling for air now as she starts to say numbers. “One, two, three.” She wants me to count alongside her. I can’t say anything, but I try to repeat their words in my mind.
“Four, five, six.” Four, five, six. The room is eerily quiet, I hear nothing but Skye’s voice and my thoughts as she tries to help me. “Seven, eight, nine.” Seven, eight, nine, I think my breaths are starting to get more controlled, or I might just be imagining it.
“Nine, eight, seven.” Skye starts counting backwards, forcing me to put more effort into the words as I think them. Nine, eight, seven. God, this is getting repetitive. I have my gaze fixed on a distant point on the wall opposite me as we continue. Skye counts up or down, not seeming to think it important if I say them or not, while I silently say echo her.
After 5 minutes of repeating the same process, the knot in my throat has loosened and I’m finally able to say something.
“Well, that was horrifying.”
Skye breathes a sigh at the sound of my voice. Is it a sigh of relief? I’m so tired I can’t tell.
I quickly collapse into Skye’s arms, somehow still tired after everything. “Sorry about that,” I try to apologize. “I swear it won’t happen again.” My breathing has calmed down significantly, but it still comes a bit too short in order for me to get enough air, so I try inhaling deep through my nose as Skye intertwines my hair between her fingers.
“That was not your fault,” she says sternly, grip on me becoming tighter. Our bodies being so close makes me feel slightly embarrassed, but I don’t have enough in me to protest. “I shouldn’t have left you alone.”
I can hear the rustling of a bag, and she pulls out a box of Bandaids. “Here, let me put this on your elbow.” My muscles tense as I remember what I had done not an hour ago. She’s going to notice, right? Hesitating, I scoff, trying to get myself out of this situation.
“You don’t need to worry about me,” I state, thankful to get the words off of my chest. “Let me do it myself.” Even though I’m close to Skye, they don’t deserve to feel bad because of me. I look up to try and grab the bandages myself, but stop when I see her eyes are red.
“Is something.. wrong?” I ask. Did I do something wrong? Skye pushes me off of her, her face turned into a scowl.
“Of course I’m worrying about you!” Her eyebrows furrow into a V shape as she stands up, putting a hand to her forehead. “Do you know how many nightmares I’ve had about you dying? How many days I’ve wished you were here?” Skye looks at me with a piercing gaze, as if daring me to prove her wrong.
“If I finally found you-” Skye’s voice cracks for a second. “If I lose you, to anything, I’d never get over it! I need you here with me, Jax. You’re all I have left of that circus.” She shakes her head, reaching out for my hand. I take it, my bloodied fingers contrasting with her pale skin. If Skye notices that anything is off, they don’t mention it.
“Skye,” my voice is deathly faint, I can barely hear it with my own ears. “You’re all I have left too, okay? I just don’t want you to waste all of your time over me. You already have enough going on.” She glares at me, but her expression starts to soften.
“Well, I’m going to do it anyway.”
I nod in acceptance. Some battles aren’t worth fighting over. Skye comes back onto the bed and puts the Bandaid over my wound, and I bounce my leg in silence as I wait for her to finish, chewing my lip.