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Michèle didn't want to risk taking the car - instead, she hurriedly strode along the wet sidewalk, her feet making slap, slap, slap noises in the small puddles. Her breath clouded in front of her face, hidden under her hood. She'd decided not to go as Caitlin, because she didn't want to risk running into someone who knew her. Instead, Michèle was meeting Sam as herself, and to say she was nervous was an understatement, especially since what had happened to Ethan.
slap-slap-slap
Don't look suspicious don't look suspicious don't look don't look don't look
slap-slap-slap
Don't get caught don't get caught don't get don't get don't get
slap-slap-slap
She probably wouldn't get a scarred-up face probably probably probably
slap-slap-slap
Still, a missing finger would be just as bad just as bad just as bad
slap-slap-slap
What if they caught her and Sam together together together
Michèle was in White Witch territory, on her way to the graveyard, to tell Sam about leaving for Switzerland. She wasn't stupid - Michèle knew what would happen if she were caught here. After the last few White Witches caught on Black Witch territory had been almost killed, she was certain that they'd do the same to her.
If she was caught.
If she was caught with Sam, on the other hand -
don't.
She was walking around the corner faster than she should have been, her footsteps were louder than they should have been, her jacket was more identifying than it should have been, her face was more herself than it should have been
Maybe if she had gone as Caitlin they would've trusted her and she could've slipped away
Maybe if she had trusted Caitlin a bit less then she wouldn't have to slip away
Maybe if she hadn't gone into that stupid coffee shop
Maybe if she had just cut herself off from that stupid guy behind the counter
maybe if maybe if maybe if maybe if
Instead, Michèle ran right into Ethan.
A cry escaped from her startled self; a laugh burst forth from him. She stumbled backwards, knowing that if he was here that he would know that Sam was here and both of them had known she was going to be here and did Sam know that he knew or was it Caitlin who knew and had let Ethan know or or or
who knows who knows who knows it doesn't matter now
He caught her by the arm, which wasn't too hard to do, because they were only a few inches apart and she was still grasping at straws for an explanation because it was one thing to be caught and another to be trapped
Yes, that was what this was, a trap, intentionally set, she could tell by the way Ethan's friends were standing in a certain pattern to make sure she couldn't run
But had the trap been set by Caitlin or Sam?
They were the only two who knew she would be here, and although it hurt her to think that the boy she loved or the girl she was best friends with would betray her, it had to be one of them.
the lover or the sister the lover or the sister the lover or the sister
Her heart was banging against her chest, the laughter of the others banging against her ears, she was panicking, panicking because even though she usually had a cool head - after all, she had done this before - this time was different because she was saying goodbye to her love possibly forever and the trap was intentional and planned from the start and fueled by recent bloody events and revenge and scars along sides of faces -
he did have a scar, along the left side of his face, a jagged ugly still-healing thing that probably would be permanent because White Witches, for all their talk of the greater good and peace and superiority, still couldn't heal as well as Blacks
Aiden probably did it then, the dominant hand would have held the knife and for a right-handed person to twist their wrist to cut the left side would be unusual, and Aiden is the only one of his gang that's a lefty
Michèle was noticing all of these irrelevant things and making meaningless connections because it felt good to have some semblance of control over the situation, never mind the fact that Ethan had twisted her around to get her hands behind her back and she was kicking kicking kicking squirming squirming squirming screaming screaming screaming but he was taller and stronger, and he duct-taped her wrists at an awkward angle
His friends were closer now, all in a ring around the two of them, still laughing but now they were making sick jokes that they found absolutely hilarious
And they'd thrown her into the back of a pickup, a rusty red Datsun, with low enough sides that she could probably roll over if she tried but she couldn't because instead she was making stupid stupid stupid connections between knife hands and face sides
They arrived at an empty dirt lot with a single tree in the middle, although because it was dark dark dark out Michèle didn't notice the pile of stones until they had hauled her out, still kicking and squirming and screaming, and thrown her down right next to it. From here she could see dates sloppily etched onto some of the closer rocks - the entire pile probably had the same treatment - and one of the boys picked one up and started scratching today's date into it with a pocket knife and all of the sudden Michèle knew where they had taken her
hanging yard hanging yard hanging yard with trophies of previous victims victims victims
Her voice was dry and cracked but she choked out a stuttering question about fingers being cut off and her reply was more hyenic laughter and an answer about recent events justifying more extreme punishment or some other bullshit and that was when Michèle realized that this was off the record, not official, no one would know until afterwards
She'd been shouting already but now Michèle screamed, screamed until her throat was raw, certainly someone would hear, a fain would call the police, somebody
But nobody came because they were in the middle of a desolate hanging yard
And they dragged her to her feet and tore the duct tape from her wrists
the first of her blood spilled -
Time passed and the minutes dragged on and Michèle was certain that eventually they would kill her, eventually they would get tired of this and it would lose the fun and they'd just get it over with already already already
And eventually they did, standing her up on the pile of dated rocks, some of which she'd seen go back all the way to 1873 because of course they couldn't kill a lot at a time or else a full-on war would break out
Ethan snapped at one of his friends to get something from the car and he came back with a noose
Ethan couldn't get it himself because he was too busy holding her up, because Michèle was exhausted from lack of sleep and adrenaline and blood and dignity and as much as she'd hate to admit it she'd given up an hour ago
or at least it felt like an hour felt like felt like felt like
Was it worth it? Hard to tell. She wasn't too conscious at this stage and she hadn't ever loved before so who knew if she was prepared to do this for love, love, what even is love, that thing that indescribable thing that some people get and it fills them with a mad desire to do idiotic things in varying degrees of danger
Someone, she didn't know who and didn't notice who, slipped the noose around her neck and they tied it to the branch directly above her
She was still being supported on the pile of rocks, rocks the size of her head, too large to be rocks but too small to be boulders
And the one with her date on it was directly under her feet
And they started pulling the rocks out from under her feet, one by one, probably because they were too heavy to go all at once
And now Michèle suddenly didn't care about when she had given up, what is giving up anyway, who does that, certainly not her
She had a new burst of adrenaline that made her not care about giving up or love or the cuts on her stomach and hands and legs and face
or the bruises all over
or the wounded dignity from having awful things done to you in a fucking dirt lot
how dare they do this
how dare they think that they can get away with this
how dare they how dare they how dare they
Michèle just wanted to survive, goddammit, and so she started frantically scrabbling at the deteriorating pile of rocks as the rope got tighter and tighter and her platform of death dates ran out
She flailed, she screamed, she cursed
She was a wonderful, kind and loving, sweet, plate-throwing fucking supernova and how dare anyone try and take that away from her
She didn't care didn't care didn't care about why she was here or who had told them or what had happened to her
Michèle wanted to survive
So she fought
One last time
And they sat back and watched
As she died