Daddy Issues | A Descendants Story | Mal & Hades

FIVE

*drops this here and backs away slowly*

FIVE

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Mal didn't leave the comfort of Evie's for a few days. And Evie, true to her word, didn't ask questions, didn't try to pry, and even turned Ben away the first few times he stopped by to see Mal. It wasn't until the fourth day rolled around and Mal had yet to shower and eat more than a few bites that Evie snapped.

"What is this, M?" She asked, her words stern but not unkind. Mal didn't look up, but after years of having her best friend beside her, knew that Evie's brows would be furrowed in determination as her eyes swirled with poorly masked worry.

And Mal understood why, of course she did. She could feel herself sinking deeper into the hole she'd become trapped in, depression settling over her like a thick blanket she wasn't sure she wanted to climb out from. She knew she needed to move, to eat, but exhaustion had stilted her, and she could do nothing but sit back and let it happen. She wasn't even trying to fight it anymore, her mind silencing the voice inside which told her she was being melodramatic and ridiculous.

"You know you can tell me anything." It was true, or at least it was true.

Before Auradon there had never really been secrets between them, nor had they ever felt the need to lie. But more often than not, Mal found that she was now keeping things from her best friend. And as much as it pained her, she knew that this was something she also had to keep secret and hold close. She couldn't explain how she felt to herself, let alone another person. All she knew was that she felt empty and cold and so fucking sad.

The sadness was what had hit her the hardest. She'd long since become resigned to the emptiness which resided within her – one which hadn't been filled with a happy childhood and loving family, or the comfort of human touch and words of reassurance. Being cold was also not a new sensation. The Isle had physically always been cold, something Mal's personality had seemingly absorbed and let the ice bleed into. Mal was icy, usually chilled to her core.

What usually accompanied this cold emptiness within her chest was a serene numbness which she'd quickly learned to latch onto. The idea of feeling nothing being better than anything else, etched into her brain long ago. But the numb had dissipated the second she'd found the comfort she'd been deprived of her entire life. She'd stopped feeling numb the second she'd let herself feel, the second she'd fallen into leather-clad arms and clouds of burnt firewood and morning dew.

And without it, she felt sad – no, miserable.

Her body had moved almost on autopilot in order to get her to the safety of Evie's couch, her consciousness never quite settling back into the empty shell. Mal could see the world around her, hear the birds through the open window, smell the pastries Evie appeared never to have stopped baking, but it was all so surreal. It was as though she was watching her life keep moving without being present. And the further she sank into her depression, the harder it seemed to break out. The rope tethering her to reality, tightly wound around her chest, threatening to snap.

She flexed her fingers, the unused neurons flaring to life as she pushed more effort into the movement than she'd once needed. Her fingers slipped through air, the fizzle of energy she usually felt as she drew on her magic noticeably absent. She tried again, fingers curling into fists this time as her eyes fell shut and she focussed. The ever-present buzz of power which usually surrounded her still gave no reaction as Mal dejectedly sank backwards into the soft cushions. Her magic was failing as she was.