How the Mighty Fall

Chapter 23

Chapter 23

Astraea pulled herself up from sitting on the bottom of the bathtub as water pelted her from the showerhead. Her feet barely cleared the edge of the tub as she stepped over it. She dragged herself upright by leaning on the counter and putting all of her weight into her arms, pushing herself along to the sink.

Behind the steam stuck to the mirror, she stared at a creature with a shadowed and distorted face. A monster so horrific should not exist. Her hearing failed. The image had the same features she did. Their eyes were one color and they blinked in unison. The monster was her.

A pain pierced her skull. Her knees buckled, and she didn't feel the floor beneath her. Noises faded in and out, but she couldn't distinguish one from another. Each was dull and distant and overlapped. Panic never set in but rather a gut-wrenching pain masked any fear.

Through a foggy haze, she barely made out the physique of a slightly younger Phrixus. He was standing at the corner of an intersection and was waiting for the crosswalk light to turn green.

In a turning point loss, seek what cannot be found in the heart of divine upset.

The scene faded as the light turned and Phrixus started walking. The fog rolled into thick clouds that swirled around a grand metallic gate. Her awe at the sight plummeted into despair as she fell through the clouds into a body of water. Her body was unresponsive. Even her gasps were empty. Sinking into the darkness, she was swallowed by the ocean and water filled her.

Then she was standing in front of Phrixus, but his eyes were warm and the look was meant for her. He could see her. As he stepped to close the gap, a fire erupted from the floor between them. A scream was stuck in her throat.

"Ash? Wake up! Come on," Phrixus muttered. "What the hell?"

She rolled onto her side, coughing up water. Lying in the same spot where she collapsed, the bathroom floor was soaked. When the heaving subsided, she sat up and leaned against Phrixus, who had kneeled as he tried to revive her.

"Are you OK? What happened?"

Eyes closed, she shivered, snuggling closer to him instead of replying.

"If you did this on purpose, I swear-"

Astraea shook her head, pressing her face into his shirt which until then had been dry.

He stroked her hair as if he was petting a timid animal. "Hey, can I make you something to eat?" It sounded nauseating, but he couldn't think of anything else to offer.

She picked her head up off of his chest. This incident magnified the parts of each other they felt uncomfortable with. Without a word, she secured the towel around herself with one hand and grabbed another to start absorbing the water. It in no way would erase the embarrassment, but she was discombobulated and desperate to forget it happened.

Phrixus shook his head. "No, Ash." He picked up her clothes from the counter and gave them to her, then paused only long enough to look into her eyes before scooping her up in his arms. He carried her to her room and set her on her bed. "You nearly drowned." There were no questions.

The words echoed in her head after he left her alone. Beside the noises he was making in the kitchen, all she could hear was a warped rendition of Phrixus saying her nickname and the woman reciting the prophecy line. Her phone screen lit up on her nightstand, but her eyes were glued to the ceiling. Despite having her clothes, she didn't put them on.

When he walked back into her room, he was carrying a bowl of cut fruit in one hand and a cup of tea in the other. "I added ice cream to the grocery list and cleaned up the bathroom." He set the tea on the coaster next to her lamp. "If it's alright with you, I have some errands to do. I put them off for awhile so they can't wait anymore. And you don't need me hovering right now. I shouldn't be gone long, but let me know if you need anything."

Her eyes shifted from the ceiling to his hands. Sitting up, she took the bowl from him and put it down next to her phone. Then she curled up on her side, tucking her head in toward her chest. The water from her hair ran down her neck and soaked into whatever it touched.

"I hope you feel better, Ash," Phrixus said from her doorway. The light was turned off and he left. A minute or two later, she heard the front door shut and lock.

The nonverbal episode wouldn't last, she was aware of that. But until that moment, when she had to face the world again, she was shut down. Despite not wanting to fall asleep where she would be at the mercy of her subconscious or stay awake dreading everything she needed to do, she instead chose to go back to the new dream sequence. Was it different than Phrixus said? She could pretend to get over it and move on, but it was a big deal.

In a turning point loss, seek what cannot be found in the heart of divine upset. It clicked then; the pieces came together, each groove sliding into place. As a result, related realizations cascaded into whole concepts from archived piles of information she had stored. No weight was lifted off her shoulders though. She wished she could dismantle every conclusion and scatter what she knew into unreachable crevices. There was no turning back now. And it took priority over contact with Serena where telling Phrixus was concerned. That is, strictly confidential.

She got up and dressed. If they wanted a better chance at surviving, it was past time to move. Phrixus had left pages of listings for her to give input, just like he said he would. Packing was an activity she could do without falling apart. She welcomed the distraction.

The bouquet of flowers was in a vase on the kitchen table and the first thing she saw when she left her room. A sign he was opening up to her. Still shoving her emotions aside, nothing else came to mind, except that the bundle would wilt. It was a matter of time. Similar to the window of time she had to learn Phrixus's motive for confronting the higher power. His adamance to plow through every hunter couldn't be his entire goal. There was a brewing vengeance and calculated anticipation for a notorious opponent, one he couldn't access yet.

As she went around sorting and boxing, she even threw some junk away. The low risk activity was mindless but allowed space for attention to be bombarded by pesky reminders of menial reality and its responsibilities. At some point she could hear her phone vibrating but ignored it. When she allowed herself the smallest break she could handle, it was the length of taking the bowl and cup from her nightstand and chomping on the fruit over the kitchen sink.

A ray of satisfaction passed through the veil of depression she wouldn't admit she was enduring. Unsavory thoughts were buried at conception to counter the clouds invading her headspace. In order to prevent rash decision making, Astraea also opted to move slower than her natural pace but steered clear of standing still too long so she couldn't mull over violent actions or commit to any.

Keys clinked against the door lock. When Phrixus walked into the apartment, his eyes landed on her sitting at the table with the papers spread out and the same cup of tea sitting among them. His gaze didn't wander or pan to the rest of the room. "Hey."

It didn't warrant a response, not if she acknowledged his presence. She lifted her chin and bobbed her head to indicate her awareness of his arrival, but returned to the listings a second later. Maybe she wouldn't have to tell him what was revealed to her if he succumbed to guilt about going back to normal. But more than that, it was still her week. Otherwise, trauma was the sole excuse to be withdrawn the way she was. The kind of leverage she didn't want to use.

She tapped the tabletop in front of the chair next to her. Phrixus snapped out of the daze he had been in, frozen at the front door. "Right, finding a new place." He pulled out the chair she motioned for him to sit on. "I wasn't sure how far you would be willing to relocate. Ahem," he cleared his throat as he took a wrinkled piece of paper out of his pocket, "Here's a list of cities I've lived in. I haven't doubled back to any as of yet because I'd prefer to not leave the hunters a pattern to patrol through or stake out, but we can consider one or a neighboring city. They probably wouldn't expect it."

They had to talk. She had to talk. Panic crept into the lining of her throat. "Where do you want to go?" Not another word. No wondering how long he thought they would be there. No questions about how long he had been in this city versus his estimated time when he originally planned to be here. One fact was he didn't have a plan prepared to leave, or he would have presented it as an option.