Chapter Text
It was just a normal day. It was normal. The sun was low in the sky but not quite setting, peaking through the window curtains just slightly. Pearl was sewing up a torn stitch in one of her dresses while Cleo was exploring more of the castle. It was quiet. Oscar was warm by her hip on the couch.
It was a normal day. Pearl thought it would stay that way.
“Oh, Pearl~!” Cleo called suddenly from a distant room. Pearl perked up, recognizing that familiar tone of excitement in their voice that meant they had discovered something wonderful. “We’re gonna have a fun~ night!”
“What? More clothes? Diamonds?” Pearl guessed as she heard Cleo’s footsteps approach. They had been finding all sorts of interesting things since they took ownership of the castle. Apparently, Scott had quite the collection of clothes and jewelry saved up from his many ancient years and riches.
“Look what Scott left behind~!” Cleo sung before turning the corner into Pearl’s view and raised their prize up in the air: three large bottles of wine in their grip. Cleo was smiling, wide and bright. “There’s even more in the cellar, too!”
“Oh… ” Pearl’s heart squeezed, but she forced a smile anyway. “Nice find.” she mustered, returning to her sewing a little too quickly. She winced as she pricked her finger with the needle on accident. She didn’t want to ruin the mood, trying so hard to hide the fear that clawed at her neck. She relaxed her face, kept calm. It was okay. Everything was okay…
~~~
It was dark out, a little colder with a chilly wind. The kitchen island was dimly lit by some romantic candles, the tiny flames dancing with the shift of the air. As Cleo poured the blood red wine into two glasses, Pearl shivered. A part of her was nervous and she couldn’t tell why.
“Gosh, I wish Doc were here; he would love this. He missed Scott’s coven party last month before he was turned, and now he… y’know…” Cleo mumbled as she finished pouring, setting the bottle down on the counter and taking a small sip from her glass. “Wow. This is perfect. We’re gonna have to write Scott about this; he has great taste in wine.”
“…”
Pearl stayed quiet, like a frozen rabbit. Caught in fear. She just stared, watching it all go down. She didn’t bite or scratch or fight back. All she did was freeze, tense up, and let it happen. That’s what she always did… it never seemed to fix anything, though.
Cleo passed Pearl a glass, the liquid swishing inside. They sat beside her with their glass and Pearl hesitantly took hold of her own. The wine looked like blood but acted nothing like it. It was a little clear where blood was opaque and didn’t stick to the glass, but it was deep red like her insides.
Pearl stared into it and the longer she looked the more she wished it wasn’t there. Cleo was talking, taking sips from their glass, and Pearl was drowning. Throat tight, heart sinking; she couldn’t move. Why was she so scared? Why couldn’t she just calm down and act normal?
“-shouldn’t have agreed to keep up with him, he’s hundreds of years old and must have the highest tolerance known to man. So, let’s just say, she was not doing well by the end of the night. Just completely~ drunk, and-... Pearl?” Cleo murmured as she drank another sip. “Do you like the wine?”
Pearl looked up at them. Cleo, who she had trusted with her life, was doing this. Cleo. Why them? Pearl thought they were different. She thought they were safe. And now… How could Cleo do this to her?… Why?
“Ye-Ah…” Pearl’s voice cracked, like it knew she was lying. She didn’t want to watch Cleo become more and more… cruel… so she returned to her glass and stared. She didn’t want it. All of it. She wanted Cleo to stop. She wished today had never happened. Pearl wished Cleo had never found those bottles.
“Um… okay…” Cleo didn’t seem convinced, but they didn’t pry, just kept drinking.
Maybe Pearl should take a sip? Just so Cleo doesn’t get suspicious, so they don’t get mad at her for acting weird. The smell alone made Pearl nauseous, but she raised the glass to her lips—slowly, because she didn’t want to. Because she knew that this was her worst nightmare. Because she would’ve rather run out the door and never come back than watch Cleo betray her so blatantly.
Pearl faked a sip. She kept her lips closed, but she could still taste it after. She wanted to throw it up and forget what it tasted like forever. She wished Scott had never bought it. She wished she wasn’t here. Anywhere else, any other scenario, would have been better.
Cleo kept talking and Pearl pretended to listen, nodding her head every so often as she’d learned to do; because acting scared—showing she was scared—would make them angry. Alcohol turned people into monsters; Pearl knew that more than anyone else.
Cleo would be no exception.
It made her father impulsive. It made Him deaf. It made Mama so, so angry. Pearl had to be perfect to keep them calm. But sometimes perfect wasn’t good enough. Sometimes…
If they ever wanted something, they would get it. And they always wanted something Pearl didn’t want to give.
Cleo would be no different, Pearl was sure. This was going to be another terrible night like all the other terrible nights before.
“…”
It was silent. Cleo wasn’t talking anymore.
A pause.
“Are you okay?… Pearl? What’s wrong?”
Pearl looked away. Her eyes were starting to sting and she could feel the bottled up emotions starting to twist in her stomach. Something was climbing up her throat and she couldn’t tell if it was the wine or thick sobs.
“Yeah, it’s o-“ Pearl hiccuped. She covered her mouth but it was too late. She was crying. Her eyes were wet and her face was shaking and she just couldn’t keep it in anymore. She was so scared.
“Did I do something wrong? I- Pearl-“
She was shaking so much. She didn’t want it. She didn’t want it! Why? Why?!!!
“Pearl. Please tell me what’s wrong? I want to help you! Please!”
A sob slipped out. Cleo sounded desperate and panicked and loud—Pearl hated yelling. She hated this. She wanted out.
“Is it the wine? Do you not like the wine?-“
“I hate the wine!!!” Pearl yelled. It hurt her throat. Face red, heart panicked, tail tucked between her legs. “Cause- Cause you’re-…” She couldn’t talk anymore. She was crying. Ugly and embarrassing and so, so scared.
She didn’t want it. She didn’t want it. She didn’t want it. She didn’t want it. She didn’t want it. She didn’t want it.
She didn’t. Want. It.
She wanted to go to bed and not be touched. She wanted to keep her clothes on. She didn’t want what He wanted. She didn’t want it.
Everything was deafening. Pearl’s unrestrained sobs and congested snarls of frustration. Cleo’s silence. The thick, thick air. Everything.
“I-I- I’m sorry, I-” Cleo tried and failed. “I- I didn’t know… I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to scare you, I’m sorry-”
Pearl tried to talk, tried to scream, but all that came out was a garbled mess of cries and whines. It was too late for apologies. They had already drank. Pearl was already scared. It was too late.
~~~
The living room was quiet. Pearl was reduced to dry sniffles and sore eyes. Cleo had left her—or maybe Pearl had grumbled for them to go away, she couldn’t remember. It’s all a blur of emotions and tears now.
Slowly, Pearl got up off the cold floor. Her legs felt like jelly and everything felt sore. She rubbed her eyes one last time before heading for the bedroom. She needed pajamas, something comfy, something different then the clothes she just cried for an hour in.
She made it to the door and paused. She didn’t wanna see Cleo—or more specifically drunk Cleo. Pearl apprehensively peeked inside and was glad to see Cleo missing from the room. But before she could step in, she froze, and… stared.
She stayed there, staring… at the bed. The bed.
There was a figure there. Her late husband. He… He called her name. Words slurred.
Suddenly, Pearl couldn’t move. Her paws were stuck to the floor and it was like the air had turned to water. Everything was a wobbly blur.
The floor was like mud, her paws sinking in and melting through. She was blending into the world like mist. Pearl felt like she was gonna fall through the Earth, get lost under the dirt, and die.
Finally, she gagged and stumbled backwards, away from the room and the bed and Him.
Pearl couldn’t sleep with Cleo tonight. It was too much. She just couldn’t.
She didn’t tell Cleo. She just walked away. Sickly and nauseous, a lump in her throat growing by the second like she was gonna throw up. Her skin was on fire, burning and gross.
Pearl rushed back to the kitchen. If she was ever gonna throw up, it was gonna be now. She hung her head over the trash and waited, her face hot and stomach swirling. She hated this. She hated this whole night. She hated everything.
Why did Cleo have to ruin it? Why did they have to find the bottles? Why did they have to pour the wine and drink? Why why why why why why why why why why? Why???
Why did the one person Pearl trusted most have to betray her so suddenly and so easily like they weren’t stabbing her in the heart?
She thought- She thought she was safe. Now she’s scared again. Like when she was with Him. That little girl forced to marry.
That wedding was the worst day of her life.
Pearl kneeled on the floor, head over the trash, for way too long. She still felt nauseous by the time she stood up, but it wasn’t as bad as before. She was tired. Her soul was worn from fear. She shuffled to the couch and just collapsed. It didn’t matter that she was still in her day-clothes. She wasn’t going back in that bedroom. Not tonight.
It was late into the night. It must have been closer to sunrise than sunset by now. The candles had long since burnt out and the castle was nearly pitch black, the shadows silent and cold. Pearl covered herself in a throw blanket and tried to get comfy, if only so this night would end a little sooner.
…
She didn’t sleep. She couldn’t sleep. She kept waiting for footsteps or snores, but neither were heard the whole night. Maybe Cleo had left? What mattered was that they weren’t coming to talk or to touch or to yell. Pearl was safe, or at least alone.
Usually that meant she was safer, but Pearl hadn’t been alone for weeks. Cleo was meant to be sleeping beside her. Her soul called out for her sweet, sweet sire, her lover, her darling. But…
“Was it worth it, Cleo?” she whined into the darkness, hugging herself to try to make up for her lover’s absence. “Was it worth it… to hurt me?” Fuck. She was crying again. She didn’t wanna be alone, she didn’t wanna be scared of sleeping again. Pearl had been doing so good, she thought she had gotten better, had healed. She didn’t wanna go back.
But, of course, she could never escape. It was like a curse, one worse than vampirism or lycanthropy could ever be. People would hurt her no matter where she went, always with that cursed liquid involved. The smell would perviate her soul and never leave.
Pearl thought Cleo would be different… They were so kind and sweet and never touched her other than gently. They never forced her to do anything she didn’t want to. She was almost perfect. The little indents of Cleo’s fangs on Pearl’s bottom lip was meant to be a promise. Pearl finally felt safe, she let her guard down.
…But Cleo hadn’t hurt her yet. It was just a few sips. It was fine. It was fine. So why was Pearl so scared? Why did it feel like she’d been stabbed with silver and left to die? Why was she still crying about this little thing?... Even though it didn’t feel little. It felt big and terrifying, like the fear was bigger than her soul could hold. The pain came from somewhere deep inside her, and by bringing it out, it ripped Pearl apart and reopened a bloody wound in the shape of a scared little kid.
Maybe she should just get over it? That’s what Mama always said when Pearl flinched around her. Maybe if she had just tried hard enough then, she could’ve forced herself stiff and calm and finally be Mama’s perfect child. Maybe then, the yelling wouldn’t have gotten worse and Pearl could’ve stayed home with her family. But life doesn’t always work out the way we want it to…
If Pearl could just ignore her fear, she would have a lot less problems. Her heart still shook in her chest despite her effort. It’s fine. It’s okay. She’s safe. Pearl would feel better next to Cleo, in her pajamas, in bed. But the wound… the gaping hole in her chest dripping with horror and blood. It wouldn’t go away. It wouldn’t close up. The fear was out, wild, and it wouldn’t go back in or fix what it’s done.
Pearl was crying. She rubbed her eyes and tried to breathe even, but she kept hiccuping and sobbing and Cleo wasn’t here to comfort her. Nobody was. Nobody was ever going to feel safe. Everyone was going to hurt her eventually. If only being alone didn’t feel like dying.
It was fine. But it wasn’t. Cleo was safe, she was comfort, but the wine might’ve changed them. There was nowhere safe. Not anymore…
Mew!
Pearl blinked and looked down at the floor. Oscar was sitting on the rug beside the couch, looking up at her with his green and blue eyes. How long had he been sitting there? Pearl let down a hand for him to sniff, giving him little pets on his tiny head in the dark.
Every few hours, Oscar came out of the bedroom to check on her. Pearl liked his company. He couldn’t betray her like a person could.
At least, if she couldn’t trust anyone else, she could at least trust him.