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Her mother always told her she mourned for those who didn’t deserve it. Caitlyn never truly believed it until Her.
Hate. A cruel word, but the only one apt to use. Caitlyn had (does) hate Her; hated her because she was her. Had become her ugly, twisted mirror that made Caitlyn hate her reflection. The monster it made her (the very one she swore to destroy).
(Why are you the one acting like her?)
Pride and privilege a terrible thing to have moulded her, Cait realises. A harsh, ugly clarification during those months while the devil sat at her ear, weaponising her (though she knows that’s a cheap excuse).
(She oinked poison in your ear and you just ate it).
Forgiveness; the word felt brittle on her tongue. What right did she have to be forgiven?
(No amount of good deeds can undo our—my—crimes).
She wants to forgive, wants to let go with every fibre of her being and put this ghost to rest and move on.
But she can’t—a truth that Caitlyn wishes wasn’t. Wishes her chest didn’t burn with rage still at the thought; the desire to tear that smirk from Her face if it meant relief.
(Because if she forgives Her, it means Cait has to forgive herself—and she doesn’t deserve it).
“Do you miss her?” Vi asks one sleepless night through the tears and it renders Cait speechless for a moment.
What can she say? No, she doesn’t miss Her—not in the same way that Vi does—and she never will.
After a beat, after the pulsing, hot anger and lingering need for revenge in her chest settles, she replies.
“I miss her because you miss her.”
And it’s a truth. Cait misses Her because without Her, Vi isn’t complete, and she never will be no matter how much Cait tries to fill that spot; mould it so she can fit in it instead.
Yet, despite it all, Cait still finds herself spending hours looking over the archives (the ones she didn’t give to Ekko and Sevika) with the shattered remnants of a Monkey bomb; searching for the ghost with a face like hers. Her other.
(Maybe then she can find salvation).