I think the shock from the information I had learned the previous night. I was the daughter of the people I grew up hating and I had killed my chromosome givers. They weren't even worthy of being called my biological parents. There was no parenting in them.
I didn't know whether to grieve or to be glad I know something. I don't know whether or not I should even allow myself to feel anything. Should I be feeling something?
I want to push it down, but the shock fading away has kicked some kind of resistance into me. I want something more. I needed something more.
As I rushed through the kitchen, trying to eat something as fast as I could, I heard Asteria come in.
"You going down to the lab?" She asked me. She already knew the answer. I could see it on her face.
"Yes," I didn't even get to continue before she started talking again.
"Well, then we both know we're going to be found eventually. We can't stay here forever, but while I make arrangements we need to come up with a code if you're going to always be down there." She whipped herself around, walking towards the small living room, expecting me to follow. Her heel hit the hardwood floor once. "If it's once, there's danger. Immediate danger."
"And you want me to come up?" I asked and she simply dipped her chin down to say yes.
"Two taps, someone's here, don't come up. But I'm not in danger. That's it." She turned around, but I grabbed her arm.
"And if I see then when you're not here? How do I keep you out of it?" I asked. She leaned in, her calm facial expression unchanging.
"You don't. If they know you're here, they'll know I am too. And if they ask where I am, you call me and say, 'Hey, Ria, where are you?' I don't like that nickname, so this is the one time you use it." I loosened my grip on her and she walked away. She stopped to turn around. "Don't expect me to not run far away though. If you think I'm coming back to save your ass, you're wrong. You're useful, but in that case you're deadweight."
I didn't care what she thought of me or whether or not she would 'come back for me' or shit. I was capable of handling myself quite well.
I buried myself in the lab the rest of the day. I don't remember when I started or when I stopped. The tremendous amounts of information and evidence. Nothing went undocumented.
By seven at night, I was half asleep as I worked. I forced myself up the stairs to the kitchen because I needed to eat.
A simple PBJ would have to suffice. I decided that until I saw a plate of food sitting in the fridge for me. It had a note attached to it in the neatest words.
I eat dinner at 5:30. Come or not, I'll leave something left over for you.
Cute.
That's how the next two days went. The same routine everyday where I only saw Asteria once. The closest we got to communication was the small sticky notes she would leave about the food or where she was going. I didn't just walk on eggshells in her presence; if I knew she was in the house I would start tiptoeing in the soundproof basement.
As I was working multiple devices in the basement, I realized that the room would get warmer by the middle of the day, so I woke up and put on a black razor back with sweats. In the middle of winter. I got used to the chill, because I knew it was only going to be there for a couple hours. I could put up with it. And I didn't want to go upstairs and risk facing Asteria. When I went up for dinner, there was nothing in the small fridge, which usually has a ceramic plate with a layer of aluminum foil at the top.
Damn it.
I was too hungry. I slapped together a PBJ— two PBJ's. One for Asteria. If she didn't make any food and there was no dishes in the sink or the dish washer, she probably wasn't here. I like staying even with people so I made her the sandwich. I had no reason to be nice to her. Why she was being even the slightest bit civil with me, I didn't know.
I heard the door creek open as I was halfway through my sandwich and I the chill from the blizzard outside hit my bare shoulders, sending shivers up my spine.
"I made you a sandwich," I stated blankly. It was just a sandwich. I rolled my eyes when she didn't respond, but didn't care enough to turn around and confront her. After a good ten seconds, I got annoyed. I could feel her presence. She was no longer ten feet away the way she was when she entered. I could feel the cold from the outside on her body less than two feet away from me.
"Who did this to you?" Her voice was soft, gentle. How the fuck did I forget about the scars Sorin left on me. They're like a dog's collar. A dog's collar isn't a leash. It doesn't keep a hold on you, but it reminds you that you belong to someone. I don't belong to Sorin, but those terrible healed scars on my back say otherwise. When I didn't respond to her, she asked again, "Selene," Her voice was less gentle as she said my name, "who did this to you?"
"Take your best guess. You're smart; you can figure it out." The pain was barely there anymore, and with all the time I spent working in the basement, I had no time to think about the pain. Or even the way I felt my rough, scabbed skin scratch against anything that wasn't a soft cotton. "You know, he had me tortured. He would nick my arteries and let the blood ooze out of me to a near point of death before applying pressure to stop it. I cut, beat, broke, and after it all, he had me fight one of the biggest men he had."
"I'm so-," I cut her off right there.
"Don't. Don't be sorry for me. It shouldn't matter to you— who did this to me. I killed your mother, and that's all there is to our relationship. I deal with the life that I picked for myself and you deal with the problems I've caused you're family. Ms. I'm So Smart My Parents Want Me to Take Over the Family Business Instead of My Eldest Sibling."
"Even a murderous bitch doesn't deserve what you went through." Her hand moved closer to my exposed shoulder and I quickly dropped my sandwich into my plate to grab her wrist. She looked at me, eyes wide in shock. Then she nodded. "I'm sorry."
"But who are you to judge what I deserve? Who is anyone to deserve what people truly judge, no matter the damage they've done to others,"I said to her. Who are any of us, including me: a murderer, to judge to crimes of others?
"We have judges for that, don't we? We have people trained to judge others of their crimes," She responded. A technical answer, of course.
"Are they trained to judge people, or are they trained to inflict the punishment from a manuscript that has already judged their crimes. What of the people who steal because the jobs they work still don't pay enough for them to stay alive? That is guilty of crime, but is that evil?" I asked her.
"If a law is a law, aren't they not good then for not following it? I'm not saying what they did was wrong— they were trying to survive. But to disobey a clear authority is wrong. Not evil, just wrong."
"But who are any of us, to judge wrongs and rights of people. What if what is done isn't of harmful intention? Not everyone guilty is evil. Why do we judge based on guilt on standards with too many complications?"
"Because we can't judge based on evil. Who are we to do that?" She said more to herself than me. "Sorin's actions were evil. Downright evil. Fuck his intentions. Stop sticking up for him. No, you're not sticking up for him. You're sticking up for everyone who did you wrong by refusing to judge them. You can judge things done to you because you determine them. Not me. Not Sorin. Not anyone."
"But nothing revolves around me. Their actions had a final, bigger goal. I am so small compared to the final outcome." I was always too small. I was a tall woman. Tall, bold, noticeable. But I was so small to them.
"But you revolve around yourself. You're conscience does. The only reason they can treat you like something small is because they have the money to be big people."
"So then what about you, Asteria?" I ask her. "You're one of those big people with money. You realize that you do the same without even noticing it? You worked for your company. You're incredibly smart, of course, but you're still a part of that family business. You aren't even directly related to it anymore. You are literally going to be it."
She sharply inhaled, staring at me like she had things to say. So many things to say, but she knew it would always come back to this. She changed the topic. "You made me a sandwich." She moved away from me and took a seat at the table. "Thank you. I didn't expect that," she barely mumbled, her tone ashamed. Was it because of our conversation, or because she thought me so bad that I wouldn't even bother to make a stupid, fucking sandwich for her.
I didn't do it to be nice. She and I could never be nice. I killed her mother. She was part of a Seven family. She would be the head of one soon. "Don't bother. I made it and we're even now." I looked over at her. She was staring at me. She opened her mouth to say something and then closed it. "Just say it," I rolled my eyes.
"Do you want an ointment for your scars. It'll help with the pain and the scabbing." She wasn't even look at me— well, my face. Her eyes were glued to my shoulders, staring at them knowingly. "Was it Sorin who ordered it? Or did he order it and do that to you?" She asked. She was so hell bent on knowing about those scars when they were none of her business. Scars aren't talked about with the reluctant allies. No matter how beautiful.
"I'll take the ointment," I didn't bother to answer her other question. "Just leave it on my nightstand."
"Will you be able to put it on yourself? I mean, it'll be hard trying to reach at it and also not pick at them." Would she tend to my wounds? Ironic. She was born into the lifestyle that wounded my very soul, but here she was offering to tend to the scars on my back.
I didn't like exposing my back to people. It's like standing in front of a train. It's like I'm asking to be stabbed in it. I would straddle the people I slept with, getting on top of them before I let them hit it from the back.
"Fine. Tonight at nine." I got up from the table before Asteria could say anything else.