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Olivia Park was a gifted girl. That's what all her teachers told her, what her father and all the others expected of her. But these days it was hard to feel like she had ever been given a gift.
She sprawled under the sheets in her princess bed, cookie in hand, staring through a holoscreen she'd stopped watching hours ago but still hadn't turned off. All the lights were out. It was almost morning, and she should've been asleep. But she couldn't sleep like this.
She was on her period. When was she ever not?
Since her cycle had begun two years ago, it had been almost unceasing. Instead of a week of bleeding with a one month break, she had months of bleeding with one week breaks. Instead of an even rise and fall of bleeding levels, the blood came on like a stormhead and left like a lingering flu. There was no describing the pain.
Something was wrong with her body. But dozens of blood draws and hormone tests, medications, even a bone marrow analysis, had turned up no answers. According to science, Olivia was a perfectly normal little soon-to-be-woman. Cold comfort, when it had gotten so bad that Papa had to pull her out of school.
And now she didn't even have Guinevere by her side.
One morning before a checkup, Olivia had thrown a fit and shoved her down the stairs. They had to hurry off right after, and Olivia had intended to fix her once they got home. But at that visit, the doctor finally convinced Orville to ban her from handling Blue Blood, the last unaccounted factor. Effective immediately.
No fixing Gwen.
Over the following months, everything in Olivia's world slowly became desaturated. The sky and stars, the Guineveres' blues and the lights of the park and the red of her blood, until it all swirled together in an oxidized brown.
Hours passed like weeks. Months passed like seconds. Nothing existed beyond the slow saturation of white with red, fading into brown. Another change, a fresh start. Fresh blood. Neverending pain. Another change. Fresh white again, for only an instant before she pulls up her panties. Always unclean. She is Unclean.
The winter storm groaned outside. The winds had knocked out their heating system, so Olivia had to huddle under her thickest blankets. She had been trying to get up and change herself, but her brain would not obey. So she laid still, mired in an invisible morass of exhaustion and bad temper.
Having finished her cookie, she wiped the crumbs off on her nightgown and dove under her blanket to turn her heating pad up a tick. She reached over to her nightstand for another cookie, but her hand hit cold glass and she heard a slosh of liquid. She'd knocked the milk over.
Oh. Joy.
Her head fell back against the pillows. She hadn't meant to lay back, but she was just too exhausted. She wanted to scream. She wanted to thrash around and break everything in sight. But she knew she would be punished if she dared to make a sound. So she stayed still, silently fuming.
Carefully, she rose from the bed, into the frigid air of her room. She scurried to her bathroom for towels, then realized she should change herself before getting down to clean. Ugh.
She flicked on the hospital-white lights then lifted the silken skirt of her nightgown, and was met with the sight of crusty scarlet all around her crotch. Of course she'd taken too long. Ugh. Idiot. Idiot idiot idiot. She yanked the back of her skirt into view, and sure enough she'd leaked out all over her gown. In a rage she ripped the gown up over her head and threw it at the mirror.
Bare now, she shivered in the cold air, but she didn't cover herself. Godforsaken body deserved to suffer. Why, why was it doing this to her? Couldn't she get one damned night of peace?
Resisting the urge to punch the wall, she peeled off her gore-soaked panties and tossed them wholesale into the trash. Just trash, not trash can, as it had piled so high she couldn't see the can anymore. She had banished Papa's terrifying servant droids from her room, but lately she'd been too depressed to clean anything up herself.
One of the few things that made her glad the Blue Blood had killed her sense of smell.
After wiping up what she could from her thighs, she sat down for a quick piss. She peered over her tiny new breasts at her clot-matted mop of pubic hair. Much as she hated all the changes coming to her body, she did find it interesting that this new hair was black, and not white. It didn't seem affected by what happened to her. She resolved to replicate the incident on another subject someday, and see if it got the same results.
While she was washing her hands she stared into her reflection. The chronic blood loss had turned her skin almost as grey as Gwen's, with deep circles under her hollow eyes. This was less disturbing to Olivia than the fact her elbows didn't hit the counter anymore. How many months had it been since the servants took her steppy stool away? She couldn't even remember.
She opened the bathroom door a crack and peeked through it. She had to get fresh clothes from her closet, but it was at the farthest end of her room. It wasn't safe to ask Papa for help. Her door had no lock, but she kept all the cameras on her tech covered up… that she knew about. No one should see her.
She retrieved a pad from the cluttered cabinet under the sink. Extra strength overnights, the only size that worked for her day or night. She grunted as she rose, the cold was bringing her cramps back.
She clutched at her stomach, gramacing as she felt blood dripping down everything she'd just cleaned. She wiped it up again, then crammed a little wad of toilet paper between her labia. It should be good enough for the trek across her room.
Clutching her crotch like a child that had to pee, she set out, tiptoeing across a wasteland of scattered toys and garbage. Shed hairs caught in her toes with every step, and every item she tripped over left a cloud of dust. The frigid air swirled around her skin, biting at every vulnerable inch like the eyes of the paparazzi. Every second she spent in the cold made her body angrier, the pain worse. She didn't spare a glance at Gwen as she stepped over her broken form.
At last she reached the closet, and she fell against the door frame just to keep herself upright. The pain was so awful, but she couldn't lay down yet. She ransacked her drawers of clothing, finally finding a clean pair. She put her pad in it and pulled it up to her body, not even bothering to remove her makeshift tampon before collapsing to the floor.
She lay on her knees, gasping, cold sweat beading on her face. How was it possible for something natural to cause this much pain? How was it possible? How had her mom survived so many years of this?
No one was there to help her, and she wasn't allowed to cry. Something was tearing her wide open and she wasn't allowed to cry. Cold hands wrenched in her guts, and she wasn't allowed to scream. She choked with the strain of staying silent. Lint caught in the tracks of her tears.
Not for the first time, Olivia Park coveted her mother's death.
After several minutes which felt like years, the pain had gone down a bit. She rolled onto her side. Her clean gowns were hung in neat rows above her. She reached up and tried to pull one down, yanking the hem every which way, but it wouldn't budge.
Wonderful.
She hugged her aching stomach, wallowing in her helplessness, until she got an idea. Gwen. Guinevere probably wasn't broken too badly. If she could turn her on, Gwen could fix all of this for her.
She turned all the way over and looked out the door. Gwen was lying only a few feet from the closet, though in her condition it seemed as daunting as the walk to Mordor. But there was no other way.
She rolled onto her front and struggled to her hands and knees. Eyes locked on her goal, she took it one agonized, filthy step at a time.
Just get to Gwen.
Just get to Gwen.
Just get to Gwen.
Her elbow rolled over a piece of scrap, and its sharp edge left a gash.
As if she hasn't lost enough-!
Ignore it.
Just get to Gwen.
Almost there.
She reached out for Gwen's hand, then used it to pull herself across the last stretch.
She curled over Guinevere's cold side, clinging to it like driftwood in a roiling ocean. Finally.
She fumbled for the tools forgotten around her head and got to work. After many minutes of frantic repairs, reconnecting wires and realigning bits of clockwork, Gwen's eyes lit up again. A delighted yelp escaped Olivia and she dove into Gwen to hug her. When she let herself start to cry, Gwen returned her hug.
Still holding her, Gwen tried to sit upright, but gravity wrenched her head backwards with a gnarly crunch. Her spinal column was still damaged. Olivia tried to set her head back on her shoulders, but it just fell against her chest.
"Gwen, I know you're broken but I need your help," Olivia begged. "Everything has gone wrong."
Gwen's eyes flashed red as they scanned her and their surroundings, taking stock of the situation. Then Guinevere stood to her full height, head still hanging uncannily against her chest.
The sight made Olivia ill. Was she going to leave? "Wait, please," Olivia sobbed and grabbed onto Gwen's leg. "Please don't go, I'm sorry I broke you!" When she didn't hear a reply she cried even harder, apologizing for every slight she'd ever made against the android. Gwen couldn't leave her, not now.
A hand shook at her shoulder and Olivia looked up. Guinevere pointed to her face, then moved her mouth, but no words were coming out. That's why she didn't reply. The impact that broke her neck must have crushed her voice box, too.
It would have been hard enough to read her lips normally, but with Gwen's face hanging upside down there was no hope of it. Olivia sniffled and buried her face into her thigh, mumbling more apologies.
Gwen crouched and pressed a finger to Olivia's lips, shushing her cries. She cradled her pale face, wiping away her tears and straightening her greasy hair. Cold arms enveloped her, and she was swept up into the air. In a whirl they were at the closet, and Gwen gathered fresh clothes and a sheet which she swaddled her in.
She was carried to the bathroom, and Gwen ran the sink to get the water hot. Sitting on the counter to wait, Guinevere would've normally sung or told stories, but now she just held her close and gave her dozens of forehead kisses.
It was a bit creepy, all things considered, but it was so much better than being alone. Her cocoon finally warming her up, Olivia giggled every time Gwen misjudged the swing of her head and bonked her.
Once the pipes were heated, Gwen let her down to step out of her undies and into the tub. Before starting the water, Olivia removed the bloodied toilet paper from between her legs and sheepishly held it out for Gwen to throw away.
After Guinevere shut the green curtain, Olivia's brain lagged. How was she showering all of a sudden? Forty minutes ago all she'd wanted was a cookie.
As she started her shower, she heard Gwen rustling around outside. Probably cleaning the horrible mess that had built up. Olivia hurried through the motions, focusing only on the worst filth, eager to get out and back into bed. But just as she was about to step out, Gwen came back. She gave Olivia an upside down grin and shooed her back into the tub, before getting in with her.
There wasn't much space for them both. Gwen sat down, and even with her back pushed right up past the faucet, her feet reached to the very end of the tub.
Guinevere started the water again, and pointed it at herself, focusing on the blue-stained spots where Olivia hadn't sealed her skin up. What was she doing? It was pointless for an android to be clean if it wasn't even fixed. Whatever, she was probably glitching out.
Olivia huffed and made to leave, but Gwen caught her wrist. Olivia glared. "I don't need your help anymore," she warned, leaving the I could break you again unspoken.
Gwen just tugged at her again, and something in her eyes made Olivia curious. She sighed and sat down between Gwen's calves.
Once Olivia was settled, Guinevere smiled. Then started the bath faucet.
The water splashed over Gwen's hip and crept up the tub, carrying whorls of blue. Olivia scrambled back to her feet. Touching Blue Blood while tinkering with Gwen was bad enough, but soaking in it naked was a whole different thing. Olivia growled as the strain brought the cramps right back.
Ignoring her alarm, Gwen pulled back the curtain, revealing the array of products she'd gathered while Olivia was showering. The first thing she reached for were the good bathing herbs Papa had bought her, stale from disuse. She scattered dry leaves and seed pods and curls of peel over the surface, then paused to inspect a bottle of oils, flipping it over to read the instructions.
"Stop!" Olivia managed through the adrenaline, and for once Gwen listened.
Olivia didn't know what to do. She didn't want to waste all those herbs, but she couldn't stay in this death soup with her. Blood dripped down her elbow and legs, mixing into muddled orangey purples around her ankles.
Gwen noticed her hesitation. Cheer unending, she raised her finger in a "just one moment" gesture, then went back to searching the pile.
With a flourish like a prince proposing, Guinevere presented the last piece of the puzzle. In her palm laid a purple bath bomb, shaped like a starpup's paw.
Olivia remembered these, it was from a prototype set she'd been given years ago for product testing. She'd only used a couple of them because the fragrance was too cloying and plasticky. She thought she'd thrown the rest out.
The bomb would turn the water Stardust Violet. Gwen's blood would still be there, but at least Olivia wouldn't have to think about it.
The water was toxic, but it was warm, and her room was so bitterly cold.
Olivia accepted the bath bomb, and lowered it into the water. She let out a dry laugh imagining what a stench this bath would've had if she could still smell, ancient medicines fizzing up with android gore and cheap perfume.
She settled down into the blissful heat of the water. Once the dye and glitter dispersed, she pulled up the prize from inside, the product's main gimmick. This one had a shiny plastic ring, styled after the necklace from Guinevere's princess outfit. At the sight of it, Gwen shook with a silent giggle and presented her hand.
The ring, being sized for a child's finger, did not fit her ring finger, but Olivia managed to squeeze it over the tip of her pinkie. Once it was on, Guinevere beamed and swept her up against her chest.
It was odd, being able to look straight into her eyes from all the way down here. Olivia nuzzled her nose against Guinevere's, and watched as her neck twisted with another giggle. There was a lump in it from an errant vertebra, that looked dangerously close to splitting. Without asking, Olivia picked her head up and wrung the vertebra into a spot where it wouldn't strain her skin.
Pleased, Guinevere pet her hair. Feeling how dirty it was though, she frowned. She wagged a finger at Olivia in time with her swaying head. A princess ought to take care of herself, she imagined Gwen scolding.
She pulled Olivia's hair from its ruined hennin shapes and turned the shower back on to wet them down. Olivia crossed her arms, but still leaned her head back when Gwen bid her to. She couldn't hide her sigh when the hot water seeped in, and she especially couldn't when Gwen started scratching her scalp. Her eyes slid closed, and she let Guinevere do as she wished.
She'd always had a mystical talent for untangling snarled hair without any pain. Once her fingers could move freely, Gwen reached above their heads for the shampoo and worked some in. When it was saturated she rinsed her hair with cupped handfuls of lavender.
When Gwen found that her hair was still dirty, she frowned even deeper. She worked in soap for another wash, and then another. The water was now too foul for rinsing, so Guinevere turned the showerhead back on. Olivia grumbled when Gwen scratched her scalp more aggressively.
Gwen gave her occasional breaks where she did nothing but pet her back or rub her stomach. Olivia tried to return the favor by braiding Gwen's hair, but the angle was all wrong and it came out disastrously. Guinevere, to her credit, didn't seem angry. She never did.
Finally satisfied, Gwen rubbed conditioner into Olivia's locks and hugged her close. By now the water was a deep mauve, syrupy with soap, grime, and blood.
The shower curtain's patterns filtered the bathroom light like leaves. It gave their bath the feeling of a healing spring, in a hidden glen deep in the forest. Olivia poked at a floating herb, pleased with the fantasy. She could almost hear the songbirds.
Olivia pressed into Guinevere's front, listening to the five-step beat of her blood pump. As she drifted off she imagined sweeping symphonies set to its rhythm.
When Olivia woke again, the water had gone cold. But Gwen had been running long enough that she had a warmth of her own. Guinevere drained the tub and stood up with Olivia to rinse off with her. With one last kiss Gwen bundled her in a towel and carried her out of the bathroom.
Olivia peeked over the top of the towel to watch her toys pass by under them. They were headed for the bed.
"Stop," she said, and Gwen did. "Don't take me to bed. Just hold me."
Guinevere obeyed, slowly rocking her back and forth. Olivia melted into the towels with a sigh.
Gwen's huge frame made her feel just as small as she should be.
Small and clean, just like she should be.
Small, and clean, and happy.
Just like she always used to be.