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They’re yelling again. I’m not entirely sure why, but I’m not sure it matters; they’re always yelling about something or another. Avid’s high-pitched whining pierces my eardrums, quickly followed by Martyn’s sharp tone, then Owen’s quiet, rage-filled comment, Ren’s flowy accent, and Legundo’s plea for everyone to stop and calm down. It all turns into a storm of sound and quick movements and emotions, and I have to keep ignoring all of it because I can’t let them see that I’m losing it.
God, this was much easier back home, where everyone acted like adults and yelling happened very rarely and was quickly over. Here, it’s so hard to keep being normal. I wonder how everyone else is still managing it. Well, actually, maybe they’re not; they’re all losing it too. But it’s bad to lose it. That’s how you ruin everything. That’s why you have to keep being normal.
I fold my arms and dig my fingernails into my skin through my sleeves. It stings just enough to pull some of my attention away from everything happening. I lean against the back wall. I never took a seat at the beginning of the meeting; I don’t think I would have been able to handle this if I had to sit in one of those chairs. It’s darker back here, too, and the sound only comes at me from one direction. No. No, no, no, you shouldn’t need to do those things. No one else does– why should you? Ugh! It’s too late now. If you screw up, screw up confidently. Just hold it together a little more; they can’t go on like this much longer… right?
Just breathe, Abolish. Breathe.
Nope, don’t do that! The room smells horrible! Like– like people, and mold! Okay, no breathing. I can’t handle this! It’s too small, too loud, too full, and too much, and I can’t fall apart– I–
Someone touches my shoulder lightly. It’s so quick I almost don’t notice. I glance up from the cracked cobble floor and meet blue eyes for a moment before we both glance away. I look at Pearl out of the corner of my eye, focusing most of my attention on keeping my face calm and still, empty. Don’t let what’s inside show.
Cleo is holding onto Pearl’s hand, switching between looking at Pearl, glaring at the yelling people, and staring at the door. Looks like the two of them are heading out early; they tend to do that a lot during group gatherings. I’m not sure what Pearl wants from me. She isn’t moving, so it wasn’t an accidental bump; therefore, she expects something from me, but I don’t know what… does she want my permission to leave?
I nod to the door, hoping that’s enough and that she’ll leave me alone now. She doesn’t; she just jerks her head toward the exit and touches my arm again, so softly it feels like a feather. It feels nice. Ignoring that, I am still confused. I tilt my head toward the door. Toward Cleo. They’re only a few feet away.
Cleo sighs and, with an eye roll, motions with their free hand for me to follow. Oh. Do they want to talk to me? I don’t really want to talk to anyone right now, but they are giving me an out, a way to leave without causing a scene. People hate it when I cause a scene. I shrug and push off the wall, nodding toward the exit again, hoping that will tell them “Okay, let’s go,” without me saying it. Thankfully, the silent communication works, and they start moving again, me trailing only slightly behind. We slip out the door without anyone else even noticing.
I breathe a sigh of relief as soon as the crisp evening air hits my skin. Then the door clicks shut behind me, and everything gets a million times better. I can still hear them, but now it’s like I’m underwater, floating alone in the ocean where nothing can touch me and I can just be.
Then I remember why I’m out here in the first place. I blink my eyes open–when did I close them?–and see Pearl and Cleo already walking away. I follow them, unsure what else to do. The couple walks the short way down the path to their house. Oh. Cleo tried to commit murder the last time people went in there. I don’t think I’m allowed in there.
I stand in the middle of the path awkwardly as Cleo opens the door for Pearl. I don’t know if I’m invited too or if… I don’t know, I’m not really sure what’s happening right now. Pearl walks inside, then Cleo looks at me and raises a brow.
“You coming in?” They look like they’re about to say something else, but then pause and just keep looking at me.
I steel myself, pull my shoulders back to make sure I’m not slouching, and open my mouth to respond… nothing comes out. I try again, but all my words get caught in my throat. Crap. No. Don’t be happening now.
Cleo sighs and turns to head inside. Internally, I yell at myself to say something! I yell at my limbs to move! Just do something!
Suddenly, my body surges forward. Oh. I moved. But Cleo doesn’t look back at me. They walk inside, and my chest tightens, my breath hitching. Then they leave the door open. Huh.
I walk in nervously, the hinges squeaking as I shut the door behind me. I freeze again, just standing in the entryway. Now what am I supposed to do?
I hear one of them in the other room– maybe both of them. I just need to walk forward and look around the corner. Easy. Simple. Okay. And… move.
One step, two steps, three steps, four steps. I poke my head into the next room. It’s more furnished than it was during the house tour. There is now a small kitchen area where Cleo is bustling around, looking in cupboards and heating up the furnace. Then there’s a line of chests and a simple rug. A ways away, Pearl is sitting on a couch, most likely made by Sausage, who randomly decided that he wanted to give everyone a couch, saying it was so he would always have a comfy place to sit when he came to visit. Then Avid accused him of being a vampire, to which Sausage responded with a pat on the back and a wistful, “I wish.”
It’s cozy. It’s probably a lot of other things too, but cozy is a good word for it. On the couch, Pearl shifts. I look at her, then realize she is looking at me. Be normal! I step fully into the doorway, not just sticking my head into the room. I straighten out my sleeves and look around the room again, trying to look anywhere but at Pearl. I fail, though, because Pearl waves, then pats the empty spot on the couch next to her– the universal sign for sit.
That seems simple enough. I make my way across the room and sit on the opposite side from Pearl, as far away from her as possible. From here, I can see that Pearl is holding something. Upon closer inspection, it looks like a skull. A cat skull. Pearl sees me staring and holds it up higher.
“This is Oscar,” she smiles. “He’s our cat.”
…He’s the head of a dead cat…
Pearl pulls the skull to her chest and rubs her hand across it, breathing in and out while doing so. I notice her rocking back and forth slightly. Why is she doing that?
My attention is pulled away from Pearl when I hear a throat clear. I turn my gaze toward Cleo, but I don’t look fully at their face, despite knowing I should. They don’t seem to mind.
“I’m making dinner,” Cleo explains. “Do you two want baked potatoes or steak?”
“Potatoes, please!” Pearl answers.
Wait– when did I get invited to dinner? Are they going to talk to me after dinner or during dinner? I don’t like talking while eating. Oh, wait, they’re still waiting for me to answer the question. Would I like baked potatoes or steak? No food sounds good right now, so I’m not sure. The thought of either of them makes my stomach churn. Instead of an answer, I just shrug. Nothing I’ve done in the past hour or so would fly back home. I need to pull myself together!
“Okay, potatoes it is.”
“Yay!” Pearl cheers.
When Cleo leaves, I sit up straighter. I take a deep breath–this one more successful than the one during the meeting–and force words out of my mouth, as I’ve done many times before, as I’ve been trained to do. “Did you want to talk to me about something?”
“Meh,” Pearl hums. “Nothing in particular. We were just leaving ’cause it was getting too much in there, and I saw overstimulation in your eyeballs and wanted to get you out of there.”
“Overstimulation?” I ask.
Pearl nods. “Like when all the sounds and smells and everything get too much, and everything feels like it’s gonna explode.”
That… sounds exactly like– but, “But,” ugh, how do I say words, “I’m not- I can’t-” Focus, Abolish. “I don’t get overstimulated. I’m not supposed to.”
Pearl frowns. “Anyone can get overstimulated, Abolish, whether they admit it or not. It just happens a lot to people like us.” People like us? “It just means that you’re overwhelmed. If you aren’t supposed to get overwhelmed, then I’m not supposed to get overwhelmed, and I get overwhelmed all the time.”
“Oh…” Did I offend her? I didn’t mean to do that. Pearl is allowed to get overstimulated; it’s not bad. I’m just not allowed to… that sounds ridiculous.
Thankfully, that’s when Cleo comes back with two plates, each with a steaming potato on it.
“It’s not anything fancy,” she says when she hands me a plate and fork, “but it’s food.”
I actually prefer things plain, so I don’t mind it. Cleo leaves again, this time climbing up a ladder. I hear her shuffling around upstairs every once in a while. Pearl and I eat in silence, Pearl shoveling food into her mouth and me picking at the potato with my fork, only eating a few bites. It’s soft. When I put it in my mouth, it feels like a cloud on my tongue. I avoid the skin, and I don’t eat much of it, but I would eat it again– and that much is rare, because there is hardly any food I would want to eat again, bread being the only one that has stuck around since I was little.
Slowly, my head starts to get less fuzzy. I don’t even realize it was fuzzy until it isn’t. The quiet atmosphere, the food, and–surprisingly–Pearl and Cleo’s presence. They don’t want me to do anything–which is strange–other than to get out of the meeting because I seem stressed. It’s nice. Of course, next time I’ll have to be more careful to make sure no one sees how weird I am. I don’t even know how I would do that, though. I thought I was being so careful. If I push things down any further, I feel like something might break. Maybe… Pearl is also struggling, and she’s not weird, so maybe it wouldn’t be bad if I just keep doing what I’m doing. Maybe I don’t have to push things down so deep and pack them in so compactly that things shatter and crumble to dust, making me crumble with it. Pearl doesn’t. Pearl is just Pearl, and we love her for it. What if– what if I could too?
No, no, Abolish. Stop thinking like that. Stay calm, cool, and collected. People can’t see what’s inside; don’t even think about it. Don’t give yourself false hope.
But… Pearl gets overstimulated… Maybe I could talk to her about it? Maybe.
I decide to bite the bullet and set my plate on the floor before I clear my throat. “So… you, uh, get overstimulated? What is that like, for, uh… you?”
Pearl swallows the bite of food in her mouth and nods. “Yeah, all the time. Noise is particularly bad for me, and smell. Then it feels like everything is so big and I’m just itty-bitty, and everything is just too much for me.” That sounds familiar. “When I was little, I used to get so overstimulated I would just explode. I don’t really remember what happens during those times; I just know that afterward the manor would be a mess, my parents would be a mess, and I would be a mess. Then I would sleep for days. Apparently, I would cry a lot and throw things, or I would just curl up in a ball and scream for hours. Cleo’s been helping me out a lot here. Sometimes they’re better at helping me than my parents were.”
That sounds kind of like my freak-outs.
“Did you get in trouble? For when you would… explode?” I ask timidly.
Pearl shrugs. “Not really. Normally, my parents just felt bad that I got that overwhelmed and that they didn’t know how to help me.” I wonder if my parents would have been like that. “Eventually, we figured out things to make it easier. Something with potatoes in every meal. Breathing exercises. No surprise classes, lessons, or parties. Not stopping me from fidgeting. Stuff like that.”
“Oh…”
“What about you?” She asks. I look at Pearl with wide eyes.
“What?”
“Did you get in trouble when you explode?” she inquires again. “I mean, if you do. I feel like you’re kind of like me, though, so I’m gonna assume you do.” When she finishes talking, she flaps her hand a few times as if trying to get water off them.
When I would have a freak-out, or “explode,” as she says, I would get thrown in my room or a closet, locked in until I calmed down. I would be stuck like that for hours– screaming, hyperventilating, pulling out my hair, and hitting my head against the wall. Stuck with only myself and the knowledge that there was something wrong with me.
Silently, I nod.
“That sucks!” Pearl says eloquently. “Did your family help you at all?”
I pick at a loose string on my gloves and look away from her. “My parents were the only family I had. At the orphanage, if I were to… explode, one of the nuns would hold me so tight I would have bruises until I was done. When I was adopted by a lord, he would just lock me away until I stopped screaming. Eventually, I learned how to pretend that I was okay– how to bury everything so deeply that I stopped having freak-outs.”
“Wow…” Pearl breathes. “I’m so sorry.”
I flinch when I feel drops on my pants. Oh. I’m crying. Oh my god, I’m crying! Why am I crying?! Stop that!
I frantically wipe at my face. “Sorry! Sorry! I’ll stop! I’m sorry! I’m sorr-”
“Don’t apologize!” Pearl commands, and that shuts me up instantly. “You’ve done nothing wrong! You’re allowed to feel and show emotion. You are allowed to struggle and be different- to be yourself, explosions and all. I don’t care what anyone else has told you, and I’m sorry that you haven’t had anyone to tell you this sooner. Can I- can I hug you?”
A hug? I haven’t had a hug in… I can’t remember. Pearl just looks at me with her blue eyes, so full of care and hurt. With tears still streaming down my face, I nod.
Pearl sets her plate and the cat skull down on the floor before she wraps her arms around me and squeezes tight. At first, I tense, unsure what to do. I bet it feels like hugging a rock. Then I melt into it and completely break down. I sob in Pearl’s arms as she holds me tight, holding all the broken pieces of me together, and the two of us rock back and forth. Despite how many rules I’m breaking, no one pulls away. I feel safe, and–dare I say–it might be allowed to fall apart and still be wanted.
I’m allowed to feel and show emotion. I breathe in. Pearl smells like cinnamon. I’m allowed to struggle and be different. I’m comfortable, in a way I haven’t been in a long time. Freak-outs and all. Pearl is hugging me, knowing all the strange things about me. Freak-outs and all.
Eventually, Cleo comes back down and wraps both of us in a fuzzy blanket and sits on the other side of Pearl. They don’t tell us to stop. They just sit there, offering quiet support for both me and Pearl.
As my sobs start to quiet and my body stops shaking, Pearl still keeps her arms around me. It’s dark in the room now, the sun having set. I somehow lean even more into Pearl and close my eyes and breathe. I feel warm, but not suffocatingly so. Pearl holds me just right. The pressure feels nice, but it isn’t so much that it hurts or becomes overwhelming. The correct thing to do right now would be to pull away, apologize, thank them for the food, and leave. I should at least say thank you.
But I don’t.
Instead, I drift into a comfortable sleep, feeling accepted for the first time in a long time.