Slipping into the swimming hole, the urge to look to see if I’d lost my captive once again crushed me.
Look!
You need to know!
Get ready to run after her.
I ducked under water instead and screamed.
Bubbles shot from my mouth as I clutched long, tangled hair floating by my ears, and fought the urge to cause myself physical harm. I’d been down that dangerous road and didn’t like how good it’d felt. How it offered a release valve to all the shit I’d endured.
My hand went to the splint covering my broken arm, rubbing over the marks that were entirely self-inflicted and not guest given.
It hadn’t been my idea. I was always more focused on my family’s misery than my own, but I’d caught Quell hurting herself one afternoon. She’d smuggled a pencil into the dorm and put herself into a trance by stabbing the nib through her forearm, again and again, leaving pinpricks of silvery lead and bright blood like a morbid constellation. I’d taken the pencil off her. I’d held her as she cried. I’d understood her self-harm was a cry for help. A scream for freedom and a primitive urge to control her own pain after she’d been hurt by others for so long.
As her tears had dried, I’d been curious and punctured my own arm with the pencil. Surprisingly, the tip went in easier than I imagined; a sharp pinch and then nothing. I was well acquainted with my blood and swallowed against the rush of sick satisfaction as I bled.
Quell watched silently as I punctured myself again and again, slipping into the same trance she’d been in. It’d felt good. Powerful. Addictive.
I’d wanted to stay in that power.
With a kiss to my cheek, she’d stolen the pencil and threw it out the window. It’d landed on the roof outside with a soft clatter, just as Jareth walked in, white faced and hollowed eyed, his body showing multiple wounds from serving a sick and twisted guest.
He’d given us a wobbly grimace.
Quell and I had looked at each other and then to our bleeding arms and shuddered. We had no words why delivering our own pain felt so good after being at the mercy of others. We recognised that if we went down that path, it could result in not just drawing a little blood but taking an entire life.
And that idea...of finally being totally free was far, far too enticing.
“Promise me, never again,” I’d murmured, linking my fingers with hers as Jareth threw himself face-first on his bed with a tortured groan.
She’d nodded and vowed, “Only if you promise me the same.”
I’d nodded and let her go. We placed our branded arms together, relishing in what we’d done and vowing never to do it again. We had a matching tattoo. The lead from the pencil had stained us. No one else knew how such a dotted design ended up on our skin but whenever we looked at each other’s, we’d stare, we’d nod, and we’d keep our joint secret.
I never told her but I was sickly proud that out of all our wounds and all our scars, we’d taken a sliver of power back by marking ourselves. We owned us, not them. Our blood had said so.
Stop it!
I shot to the surface for air, drinking down oxygen and shoving away memories. They weren’t permitted in the light of day. My mind and walls knew that. So why the fuck had I had two in such a short amount of time?
My fingers burned as if I still held Gemma’s throat in my hands.
My head automatically snapped to the bank before I could stop myself, my eyes unwilling to see the truth. The truth of an empty riverside, of no one there.
Wait, what?
I flinched and coughed as my legs forgot how to swim and I drank a mouthful of river by accident.
She’s...she’s still here.
I blinked.
I couldn’t understand.
Why?
She was free.
I’d let her go.
I’d hurt her again.
In some broken cavern in my heart, I’d fully expected her to run as far and as fast as she could. I’d almost snarled at her to get away from me before I could hurt her again.
So...why hadn’t she gone?
Panic suddenly flared down my limbs.
No.
She was lying down.
I could barely see her, enveloped by the long grass swaying softly in the sun.
She’s lying down...
She wasn’t hating me, cursing me, or plotting my demise. She was...
Dead?
Holy shit, did I kill her?
I bolted. I swam like a drowning otter and shot across the pool as fast as I could.
Please, please, please...
I couldn’t breathe.
My head pounded.
My body throbbed.
I was two seconds away from hurling up our meagre breakfast. If I’d killed her now? If I stole the only thing in my life that granted a second’s worth of peace? If I hurt the one person who actually tried to help me?