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There was a price to kindness.
Bridget knew this well enough. It was expensive; being good in a world overflowing with hate. But it was necessary; the consequence far outweighed the cost so she paid up, no questions asked. In Wonderland, there was no such thing as mercy. No such thing as kindness. Her mother—heir to the red throne—was as tyrannical and hateful as a person could be. There wasn’t a shred of pity in her heart, and since Bridget was young, she’d been expected to be the same.
Pink was still a shade of red, after all. It was impossible to deny her heritage. And ever since Bridget was born, there was a madness inside her. She came out of the womb shrieking in rage. It wasn’t something she couldn’t ever truly be rid of, no matter how hard she tried. The hate was coiled in her gut like a snake, ready to bite at a moment's notice. It was venomous and nasty; a thing that often kept her up at night for how tightly it cinched around her heart. She could be kind, but her temper always boiled just under the surface. One misstep and she could snap, one wrong move and she’d hurt the people she loved most.
It only got worse as she grew up. The fire became wild the more her mother fanned the flames. Bridget was terrified of the viper she was inside. Terrified of what the Queen of Hearts had the power to do to her. Terrified that one day the wildfire would completely consume her inside and out. Her hair was red like blood at the roots; visible proof that all the work she put in to be kind was just a farce. A lie. A tedious facade that was constantly crumbling.
Worse yet, Bridget had run out of flamingo feathers.
They were truly magic; bringing smiles to people’s faces just as much as they brought a little pink into their lives. But—as of late—she’d been much too friendly with her stash. And now she was out. Sure she could get more, but it would take time. Wonderland mail was slow. Cradled in the soft embrace of her shag carpet, Bridget grabbed at her hair, crumpling it in her fists. Her body physically recoiled at not having what it needed. It pulled and tore itself apart, screaming at her that it was in pain, that it needed something she didn’t have.
She’d abandoned her clothes hours ago, left in nothing but thin elastic that was still somehow too hot. She was sticky with sweat, aching in pain, and her mind was unraveling with each passing moment. The pink in her hair—something she took great care to upkeep—was fading, becoming red like the blood her mother spilt.
The agony of her vices was poisonous, and she hated every second of it.
Wrapping both arms around her bare stomach, quivering and convulsing in discomfort, her heart sped up at the sound of a knock at the door.
No.
“Bridget?”
No. No. No!
“Bridget? Hey, it’s Red. Well, Chloe’s here too, I guess. But can we talk to you?”
“N—no! No, I’m…I’m busy…” Bridget winced at the shiver in her voice, rolling onto her side, only to cringe in pure agony. Her skin blazed like fire, and her eyes were seeing doubles. No doubt she’d be sporting a pretty rash in the shape of hearts tomorrow—that’s usually what happened when she didn’t have her fix. She’d be paranoid and angry, just like her mother. Until she got her new shipment of feathers, she would be anything but kind, that’s not what Bridget wanted.
She hated being cruel.
With another horrible shudder, Bridget failed to hold back her cry of pain, hiding her face in the soft fur of the carpet. She grabbed at the fibers, clinging to them with trembling fingertips. Her nails cut crescent moons into her soft palms, but her scalp was so sensitive as its color began to fade. She didn’t want to risk actually bleeding by pulling out her hair.
Thinking Red and Chloe had gone, perhaps chased away by her uncommon rudeness, Bridget could only whimper as there was a horrible crack. Glass shoes and all, Chloe had kicked the door in, causing it to slam aside and rattle the walls.
“Bridget!”
Red ran towards her, clunky boots thumping against the hardwood. Bridget desperately wanted to scream at her; snap in anger and tell her to get lost. But the concern written across the crimson-haired girl's face made her look so young.
“S—stop,” she managed, twitching away as Red’s hand ghosted across her arm. “Please…please leave…”
“You’re burning up,” Red insisted, waving at Chloe to shut the door behind her. “What’s going on? What’s wrong?”
“Nothing.” Bridget clenched her teeth as another shake rocked her spine, forcing her to curl up even tighter.
“Obviously not nothing.” Red reached out again, picking up a lock of Bridget’s hair. “Your hair is turning red.”
“Like—like yours,” Bridget managed, though it hurt too much to laugh as she huffed in agony instead. “I can’t stand the…the color on me…”
“So pink isn’t it’s natural color?”
Bridget shook her head weakly. “N—no.”
“Do we need to take you somewhere?” Chloe asked. Bridget couldn’t actually see her from where she lay collapsed. “Are you sick?”
“It’ll pass,” she managed past her teeth, squeezing her eyes shut as painful static raced inside her skull.
“You’re way too hot,” Red complained again, leaning back on her bent knees. “Hey, Princess. Your mom is all…you know…motherly. What did she do when you got a fever?”
“Uh, bathtub,” Chloe said at once, her shoes clicking as she ran towards the washroom. “I’ll start the water.”
“Cool. I got her.” Red reached down, her fingers brushing against Bridget’s bare skin causing her to yelp in pain. The girl pulled back immediately. “Does that hurt?”
“Y—yes! Please just go away,” tears welled in her eyes, refusing to fall as they boiled away just as fast. “Red, please.”
Red said nothing, just stood and vanished from Bridget’s side. She hoped the girl had left, but blinked as the entire carpet began to move.
“Chloe, help me!”
“Got it.”
Red and blue physically dragged Bridget and the carpet across the floor, neither keen on leaving as they neared the washroom.
“This might be uncomfortable for a second but I’ll be quick,” Red mumbled as they reached the open doorway. The shower was running and the fan was on, creating a stale droning noise. Bridget hissed as she was grabbed under the arms, her eyes dancing with how painful it was to be touched. But, as Red promised, she was quick. Picked up and brought to the tub, a different set of hands grabbed onto her. Chloe awkwardly crouched under the stream, soaked to the bone with her curls stuck to her neck. She flopped to sit down, holding Bridget in her lap as the water cascaded across them both.
It stung at first, like a million small icicles pelting her skin. She couldn’t help but wail a bit in agony, her entire body twitching and shifting around on her bones. But Chloe held tight, sturdy against her back. Her soft fingers gently pushed Bridget’s hair off her cheeks, the once pink strands now a dark and bloody red. In the water swirling down the drain, Bridget could see the pink tint of the flamingo feather dust leaving her body and vanishing.
For a while they sat in silence, Red having stripped out of her jacket, leaving her arms oddly exposed. She sat on the floor by the tub, leaning over one edge despite the threat of getting wet. The lukewarm water was doing its best to cool down her skin, but many of the droplets puffed into steam on contact. Had this been any normal human fever, she would’ve combusted from the inside. Dozing in and out from the sudden change in body temperature and the exhaustion that came from withdrawal, Bridget heard Chloe and Red speaking to one another.
“…do you wanna switch spots?” Red asked. “I can hold her.”
Chloe’s chest vibrated under Bridget’s head as she spoke. “No, I’m fine.”
“Your arms are all rashy.”
“We’ll deal with it later.”
They descended into silence again. For a long time it was dark and quiet. Bridget didn’t even realize she passed out completely until she opened her eyes again and was in a different place. She’d been returned to her own bed, set on top of the sheets instead of under them. Her hair was still damp but had been pulled back into a ponytail, a few crimson curls dry and hanging in her eyes. She hadn’t been changed, the cold wetness of her clothes causing her to shiver. But the pain had subsided into a dull ache, and her skin no longer felt like it was boiling.
Weakly pushing up onto a hand, the room was dark, a single lamp and her fairy lights casting everything in a comfortable pink glow. Well…except for the bathroom light, which was stark and pale in comparison. Chloe was sitting on the edge of the sink, dressed in a familiar pink tank top (borrowed from her closet, perhaps?). She had her own mess of curls wrangled into an elastic, exposing her bare arms and neck which were blistering in familiar heart shaped welts. Red looked like she just cut the sleeves off her shirt. She had a rash too, though it only went up to her elbows. They both had palms wrapped up in bandaging, Chloe holding a strip in her mouth while she mummified Red’s fingertips. Her dark marble eyes caught Bridget staring as she gave her best smile, finishing up her task and nudging Red’s arm.
“Hey.” Red was the one who approached, leaving Chloe in the bathroom to awkwardly slouch against the mirror. “Welcome back. How do you feel?”
“I…is she ok?” Bridget frowned, staring at Red’s bandages arms. “Are you ok?”
“That’s not what I asked,” Red complained, crouching awkwardly by the bedside so they were eye to eye. “How do you feel?”
“Better,” Bridget admitted. “I should’ve tried harder to keep you from touching me, I’m so sorry. Magic tends to…jump.”
“Bridget, what was this?”
Chloe cleared her throat from the bathroom as Red glanced over her shoulder, furrowed her brows, then turned back.
“I get it if you don’t wanna tell us; we aren’t gonna push it. But this…you were really, really sick.”
“I…it’s a secret. One that no one else knows; not even Ella. I haven’t told anyone.”
“Do you want to tell us?” Red asked, tilting her head. “It’s fine if you don’t.”
“You’re both hurt now because of me,” Bridget whimpered, casting another glance at Chloe who appeared to be dozing, swollen arms resting palm-up on her knees. “I…I’ve been…using flamingo feathers for…a while.”
Red looked puzzled. “Using them?”
Bridget nodded slowly, shifting to be in a better position and grunting as she did. Her entire body was sore; it felt like she’d just run a marathon. “Remember when I told you that they have side effects?”
“Yeah?”
“There’s a madness in me, Red,” she whispered finally, like the walls would hear if she spoke any louder. “The feathers make things better. They always have. They help ease this…thing…that I have inside.”
“Thing?”
“I don’t want to be like my mother, Red,” Bridget rasped, something familiar settling into the other girls face as she sat back on her heels. “I have meanness in me. Cruelty. Anger. Hatred and bitterness that I can’t stand but can never get rid of. I’m mad. I’ve been using the feathers for years; it’s easier to be kind when I do.”
“So this is some sort of side effect?”
Bridget nodded again. “Yes. The feathers aren’t dangerous every once in a while. You saw for yourself; they make people smile. But the more you use them the harder it gets to…not.”
“So why tonight?”
Bridget slumped. “I ran out. I didn’t realize how many cupcakes I made until they were all gone, and I…I didn’t have a backup plan.”
“So this.” Red lifted an arm, showing off the rash. “This is what happens to you?”
“Yes. And it can jump to anyone who gets the flamingo dust on them. I should’ve tried hardier to stop you.”
“Hey, don’t worry about us. Well…” Red glanced over her shoulder again to look at Chloe. “Don’t worry about me. I think Chloe got the brunt of it.”
Bridget felt a spark of guilt in her stomach. “Is she ok?”
“Her majesty’s a little uncomfortable…”
“I can hear you talking about me!” Chloe complained from her place on the bathroom counter, apparently not as asleep as Bridget first thought. “I’m rashy not deaf.”
“Whatever, Princess,” Red grumbled, causing Bridget to chuckle a little.
“You two must be very best friends,” she said. “Like Ella and I.”
“We actually just met yesterday,” Red admitted, turning around again as Chloe cleared her throat loudly. “I mean…when we transferred. You know, only two transfer students in the middle of the year? Instant besties.”
“I suppose. Perhaps you’re soulmates then,” Bridget offered, yawning as Red pursed her pretty ruby lips. “Everybody has one, you know. It doesn’t have to be romantic. I like to think Ella and I are soulmates, but like…soul-friends. You know? We’ll stay friends forever, I bet.”
Red’s eyes flashed, but her face remained stoic as she shrugged. “Yeah. Maybe. Hey, can Chloe and I crash here tonight? It’s way past curfew and we don’t need to be dealing with Professor Merlin.”
“I don’t have another bed,” Bridget mumbled as Red smirked.
“Who needs a bed? Chloe’s about to crash right there in the sink anyway.”
Chloe gave another princessy huff. “I can still hear you, Red.”
“Yeah, I know.”
“Then stop talking about me like I’m not here.”
“Just go to sleep and I’ll stop talking about you.”
“I’m not sleeping like this,” Chloe growled as Red just rolled her eyes and gave Bridget a pointed look.
“Princesses.”
“Red I swear…”
“Ok, ok, I’m done. Don’t get your spandex in a twist,” Red barked in annoyance, causing Bridget to laugh again as the girl stood up, groaning as she did. “We’ll make it work. Just go back to sleep, ok?”
“Are you sure? I hate not being a good hostess while I have guests.”
“I think we could all use a little sleep,” Red mumbled, nodding towards the bathroom. “Somebody’s a bit crabby. If you need anything just…let us know, yeah?”
“Yeah.” Bridget rolled onto her back, cringing at how ashy her shoulders felt against the sheet. No doubt she’d be in a world of hurt tomorrow. Glancing towards the bathroom, Red pulled the fur carpet out from where it sat in the doorway, pushing it against the nearest wall. Chloe extended her arms as Red grabbed onto her, picking her up bridal style.
“You’re heavy,” she complained, grunting as Chloe elbowed her ribs. “Ow, what?”
“At least I’m not a toothpick like you.”
“Keep talking and I’ll drop you, Princess.”
“Be my guest.”
Red snorted but didn’t drop her cargo, gently depositing Chloe onto the rug instead. Bridget winced at how painful the rash looked on her dusky skin, swollen and sore, her blue curls tinted the faintest shade of pink at their tips. Red plopped down beside her on the floor, rolling over as she received another rough jab to the stomach. Staring at the pictures on her ceiling in thought, the pair eventually grew quiet, no longer squabbling. Curious if they’d actually fallen asleep like that, Bridget sat up, sliding to the edge of the mattress.
Red and Chloe had indeed passed out together, enjoying the soft rug. Except blue had rolled up against red’s hip, her face tucked up under her companion’s chin. Red had one arm bent under her head, the other slung under Chloe’s to keep her from being on the floor. It looked like a very comfortable position, and Bridget made sure to snap a photo for her billboard. Shuffling around the room to clean up from the awful night she’d had, Bridget brushed her teeth, staring at her red haired reflection all the while. It didn’t look as bad as she remembered. Red’s hair was very similar to her own, and she wore it with pride.
Humming in thought, Bridget grabbed an extra blanket from the closest, tossing it over her two friends passed out on the floor. She mopped water off the bathroom tile and turned off the light, changed into better pajamas instead of damp spandex, then laid back down again. Taking one last look at her companions, smiling fondly at their willingness to stay with her, she leaned over to flick off the lamp.
Tomorrow she’d be unable to do much of anything—she’d have to ask Ella to tell Merlin she wasn’t feeling well. But tonight?
Tonight she felt lighter than she had in a long time.