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“Ouch!”
There was a clatter as a scoring knife fell to the floor. Glancing up from her own potion, Bridget leaned past Red’s shoulder to see what happened. Chloe’s hand was already bleeding, sliced from one side of the palm to another. It didn’t look deep, but the oozing was clear as droplets curled down her wrist and into her sleeve.
Ella—not the most compassionate girl when it came to royalty—seemed a touch irritated at the interruption. Bridget knew, of course, that her best friend was an acquired taste, and though Chloe had been trying her best to be friendly (Bridget could see she really was trying), the two were very different. Ella was having none of it, at least not today.
“Don’t stain anything,” the girl muttered, kneeling to pick up the knife and wiping it off with a frown. “Go to the bathroom and clean up. I’ll finish this myself.”
Chloe said nothing, but Bridget heard the little heartbroken whimper in her throat. She looked pale all of a sudden. Stricken. Almost sick. Perhaps she had a fear of blood? There was a puddle of crimson forming in her palm, streaming between her fingers and to the floor. With a withering cry Chloe left the room, blue curls flying as she ran out on the brink of tears. Bridget huffed, setting her own tools down. Beside her, Red turned to watch Chloe leave, but didn’t go after her.
The redhead looked upset too, her body wavering as though she wanted to go, but her claws remained dug into the table.
“You’re so grumpy,” the Princess of Hearts complained, stripping off her potion gloves in a hurry and moving into the aisle. “Ella, why would you do that? You just hurt her feelings.”
“A princess not knowing how to use a knife isn’t my problem. It’s not my job to mother her,” Ella snapped in irritation, causing Bridget to bristle in surprise. Ella could be brutal towards others; it wasn’t new. She had enough to handle at home, what with her cruel stepmother and sisters. But this was a little much, if not totally unlike her. Bridget didn’t fail to notice how Red flinched at Ella’s words, but she pursed her ruby lips and stayed quiet, staring at the cauldron bubbling on the desk instead.
Clearly, something was going on with Chloe
“She needs to figure it out for herself.”
“Have a little empathy,” Bridget complained. “She’s been trying to be friendly with you and you’re not reciprocating.”
“Yeah, well, maybe I don’t want her friendship,” Ella scowledc stirring her pot. “She got dropped onto me by Professor Merlin and now I have to do everything. It’s not up to me to teach another prissy royal her basics.”
“That’s not an excuse to be cruel,” Bridget said, exasperated as she jabbed a finger into her best friend's chest. “Ella, I love you. But you can be really cold sometimes. Directing your bad attitude at Chloe—someone who’s been nothing but nice to you—is unnecessary, if not downright mean.” Ella finally stopped her potion making. She turned away from her work, her face deeply wrinkled and her eyes hurt. Bridget felt a little regret coil in her at what she’d said, but she doubled down and folded her arms. “When you figure out how to get your feathers out of a twist, you need to apologize.”
“But…”
Bridget raised a finger, silencing the girl's protests. “You’ve done enough. I’ll deal with this, seeing as you have a heart comparable to a block of ice right now.”
Holding back an eye roll at her best friend's unhappy sputtering (she’d figure it out eventually), Bridget grabbed the first aid kit on her way out the door, tucking it under one arm. Chloe left a trail of blood in her wake, the droplets getting wider and further spread the closer she got to the nearest bathroom. Having tracked a wounded Bandersnatch in Wonderland before, this usually meant whatever was bleeding had started sprinting. Quickening her pace, hoping nothing really bad had happened, Bridget pushed her way into the washroom with a shoulder, kicking an ‘out of order’ cone in front of the door just in case.
Entering quietly, Chloe’s crying echoed. But so did the sound of her being sick to her stomach. Alarmed, Bridget set down the kit. She immediately tossed her hair back into a ponytail, shedding her layers to not get any of it dirty. Chloe was in one of the stalls, collapsed to her knees and leaning over a toilet bowl. Blood was smeared all along the porcelain rim, causing Bridget to wince. Blood didn’t phase her—not coming from Wonderland and her mother’s court—but that didn’t mean it was ever a good thing to see.
Pursing her lips she shuffled closer, reaching out to gently pull back Chloe’s hair. “It’s just me, sweetheart,” she said, taking the curls and coaxing them behind the girl's ears. She looked unwell, resting heavily on her bent arms as she wept, her hands a horrific and wet crimson. “I’m going to take care of your hair; you don’t have to move if you don’t want to.”
Chloe said nothing. She only managed a sad sniffle as more tears caught in her mascara. It took some finessing, but Bridget wrangled the unruly blue mess of curls into two French braids, careful not to pull or tug too hard. It was a bit hard to tell with the awkward position, but it didn’t seem like Chloe cared, her eyes having fluttered shut about halfway through. When her hair was managed and out of danger, Bridget tugged at Chloe’s jacket next. “Let’s take this off. We don’t want it to get ruined.”
There wasn’t any sort of verbal response, but Chloe sat up enough for Bridget to gently pull the coat away, revealing her thin, bloodstained undershirt. Tossing it from the stall to avoid any possible staining, Bridget used a hand to massage the back of Chloe’s neck, running her thumb across the tense muscles and gently scratching the skin with her manicure. She pet the small angel hairs at the back of the girl's neck, something her nursemaid used to do when she wasn’t feeling well.
Chloe just sighed deeply, her brows furrowed and her eyes still shimmering despite being closed. She wasn’t getting sick anymore, but the color had yet to return to her cheeks.
“I need to see your hand,” Bridget told her, running patterns along Chloe’s hairline with her fingertips. “I can’t do that here. Come with me?”
Gently pulling Chloe backwards, she didn’t seem to want to come. A whine of discontent escaped her throat and she heaved a horrible, shuddering breath. It was the kind that barely got any air in and made you lightheaded. But eventually she did turn around, sitting weakly against the interior wall. She didn’t leave the safety of the stall, but it was enough. Gathering the things she needed from the first aid kit, Bridget knelt awkwardly across from her companion. It was a tight and uncomfortable fit, but it would have to do for now.
Taking hold of Chloe’s bloodied hand and spreading the fingers, it looked far worse than it was. The scratch was deep enough to bleed profusely, but it was already slowing on it’s own. Using some wipes to have a better look, Chloe hissed, trying to pull her hand back. “Don’t,” Bridget ordered, keeping a featherlight but sure grip. “It’ll only hurt for a minute.”
Chloe didn’t respond, but her head made a shallow thunk against the stall as she tossed it backwards. Cleaning and wrapping the wound with what she had in the kit, Bridget worked as diligently as she could, taping the scratch and mummifying it in cotton bandaging. She cleaned Chloe’s other hand too, though the skin was bright pink with staining as she sighed, double checking her work. “That should do,” she whispered, shoving any wrappers into the steel repository on the wall. Her companion stared at her palm, slowly curling the fingers as her lip wobbled dangerously. “Ella can be a bit cold,” Bridget told her. “She’s not very good at being kind when so few are kind to her in return. She didn’t mean to hurt your feelings. But…this isn’t about that, is it?”
Bridget didn’t like making assumptions, but something else was definitely going on. A bruised heart was much different than a broken one, and Chloe’s heart was shattered. Split into so many pieces that she was physically ill over it. Scooching forward, Bridget gently took Chloe’s cheek, her chest pinching as the girl instinctually leaned into it. Her tears welled and her lips trembled. Every limb shook horribly, her paleness only getting worse.
She was looking for comfort.
Without thinking twice if it was the correct thing to do or not, Bridget wrapped the girl into her arms. Tugging her close, shifting into a better position, the tears and the hurt crashed down like a breaking wave. Chloe collapsed, the sorrow tearing from her throat in a pained and desperate wail. Bridget closed her eyes, trying to fight back the tears she felt on Chloe’s behalf.
Realization came shortly after.
Chloe was searching for sympathy in an unfamiliar place and wasn’t finding any. Red certainly didn’t seem like the comforting type and (as of now), the two barely seemed to get along. Chloe seemed to naturally go to Ella, and though Bridget didn’t really know why, perhaps she was looking for something and just wasn’t finding it? After all, Ella was as soft as a rocky shore. Chloe was hurt and she didn’t know where to turn. Ella’s coldness towards her was the breaking point.
“Ok. Shh, it’s alright. I’m here.”
“My mom is dead!” Chloe’s words barely escaped her throat; struggling to get out past her wild gasping. She clung to Bridget’s dress in desperation, vulnerable and sick and grieving.
“Oh, sweetheart. I’m so sorry.” Running the flat of her hand across Chloe’s nape, trying hard to sooth her, Bridget didn’t know what else she could do. Her heart ached for this stranger as she wept. Still, she would weather this storm. She was already in the middle of it; Chloe needed someone, and grief was a dangerous thing to face alone. “I’m not going anywhere, ok? Just…hang on.”
Easier said than done.
It took a while for Chloe to cry herself out; she’d been holding it in for a long time, Bridget could tell. The cramped quarters made her body hurt, but she kept quiet, running her fingers along Chloe’s new braids, whispering to her sweet nothings to try and ease the ache. She knew it wouldn’t do much good, but she could try. Eventually she did manage to coax the bluenette from the bathroom, taking her back to her dorm.
One oversized pink sweatshirt and a pair of silk pajama pants later, and Chloe was tucked into her bed, conked out amongst pale strawberry sheets and a fur comforter. Bridget used a washcloth to wipe dried blood from Chloe’s skin and makeup from her face, careful not to wake her up. No doubt she’d be out until tomorrow. Fluttering around the room, not entirely sure what to do with herself, Bridget turned as there was a knock at the door. Worried it was Professor Merlin ordering them back to class (probably not, seeing as barely remembered to hold class sometimes), she frowned at Ella now standing in the hall.
Her friend looked a touch sheepish, tangling her fingers together and picking at the short nails. “Ella?”
“Hi, B.” Bridget stepped out, closing the door behind her. She folded her arms, tilting her head as Ella pursed her lips and kicked a foot. “I…I made a mistake.”
“No kidding. Why were you so mean?” Bridget furrowed her brows as she leaned forward expectantly. “You’re so good, Ella. I know you are. What was this?”
“I just…Chloe’s just another royal. I already have to take care of my stepfamily. I don't want to take care of anyone else.”
“Then tell her that,” Bridget hissed, shaking her head. “Chloe may not know how to do things, but you encourage her to try. You really hurt her today, El. She’s in pain. She was looking to you for comfort and you gave her nothing.”
“Comfort?” Ella screwed up her face at once. “What are you talking about?”
“She just lost her mom. She’s grieving. I don’t know why she gravitates towards you, she just does. She wants to be your friend, El, and you keep pushing her away.”
Ella appeared weary. “I…I didn’t know…”
“I know you didn’t. I…I know.” Exhaling sharply to release some of her own tension, Bridget tried to shake away the overprotectiveness she was feeling. “But that’s not an excuse. Chloe is a sweet girl in an unfamiliar place. You know how hard it is making friends.”
“You’re right.” Ella fell her head, crossing her gangly arms. “I’m sorry.”
“I’m not the one you need to apologize to.”
“Is she…?”
“Crashed and burned,” Bridget admitted shallowly. “She’ll be out for a while. Where’s Red?”
“Vanished someplace after class ended? I have no idea.”
“Hmm. Look Ella, I’m not mad. I’m just disappointed in you, that’s all. Go home, sleep it off, and come back and apologize tomorrow.”
“Do you think she’ll hate me?” Ella asked, cringing as she hid her eyes behind her curls.
“I don’t know, El. Chloe’s heart…it’s in tatters right now. Today didn’t help that.”
“I’m sorry, B.”
“I know you are. And tomorrow, you’ll make sure Chloe knows that too. Ok?”
Ella tilted her head in agreement. “Ok.”
“Goodnight, Ella.”
“Night, Bridget.”
Closing the door softly as Ella slumped down the hall, Bridget groaned, resting her forehead against the door. She turned when Chloe whimpered a little in her sleep, tossing amongst the sheets. Going to the bed and sitting at the edge, Bridget placed a hand on the girls leg, giving it a comforting squeeze. This seemed to be enough to settle her, but the familiar shine of tears was still prominent.
“It’s alright, sweetheart,” she whispered, leaning over to gently push an escaped curl behind Chloe’s ear, catching a stray teardrop as it tracked down her cheek. “I’m not going anywhere.”