Funny number haha
The hot steam from the shower fogs up the mirror, blurry blooms of grey-white distorting half of my face, hiding the spider leg white scars that crawl up my cheek, the blood smears dribbling away in watery pink lines, tracing down my neck and my arms.
Soap that smells like pear lathers in thin layers of bubbles, swirling up my thigh and stomach, stinging in the grazes on my chest, mixing with the earthy mud and the metallic blood, last nights horrors washing right down the drain along with it.
The pitter patter of water on the tiles isn't the same as droplets on trees, heavier, denser, not the hollowed out splatters on tough, flat green. The guards screams weren't the same as Fundy's, his were shallow, final gasps in the desperation to cling onto his petty little life. No, Fundy's were guttural, like the very life was leaving him, every howl with every punch, knuckles against bone, fists against face.
Pretty parallels, woods and showers, horrible men and their well deserved fates, it all blends together in a convoluted mix of bloody violence and brimming satisfaction, of rainfall and haunting final moments.
I step out behind the hazy class, cold air harsh against the water droplets clinging onto my skin. The worn, ash grey towel is rough against my back, as I wrap it around my chest, squeezing out the rest of the water out of my dripping hair.
And just like that, the final remains of an unnamed guard scrubbed away, sent down the drain with dirt and sweat and pear-scented soap, gone forever. Like nothing ever happened.
I walk out of the bathroom and into the bedroom Quackity set up for me, oakwood walls and polished bed frame, cream sheets and a bright yellow quilt, a set of clothes neatly folded on top. There's also a cloth bandage, which I wrap securely around my chest, covering the superficial grazes and cuts from dead tree branches and rocks that I didn't notice last night. It doubles as a bra thank fully, and I slip on underwear I recognise, left behind in the cave, the white cotton T-shirt, and the checkered blue pyjama shorts, that fall to just above my knee, the sleeves of the shirt to my elbow. I use my fingers to untangle the last remaining knots in the ends of my damp hair, brushing it out behind me.
"I grabbed some stuff from your old house, most of the clothes were ruined though." Quackity explains, looking up from a strewn out stack of papers on the kitchen table, as I walk into the main area of the house, hugging my arms around myself.
"Yeah." I clear my throat. "Thanks."
Quackity sighs, dropping the paper he had held in his hands, folding them on top of the mess.
Just what I needed, more emotional, heart to heart bullshit, where people make themselves feel better about situations they will never fucking understand, about things they couldn't possibly know.
"You killed that guard Rosemary." He says quietly, and I manage to keep the eye rolling internally.
"That's what you want to talk about?" I almost laugh, I almost fucking laugh, because out of everything that's happened, everything he has done, he wants to talk about some meaningless stupid fucking guard, who never mattered when he was alive, and certainly does not matter now. "Are you serious?"
"You killed him!"
"Yeah I did Quackity, so fucking what? Who gives a shit?!"
"I do!"
"Get over yourself Quackity." I scoff, sneering nastily. "You lord yourself on this fucking moral high horse, when you have done so much worse than me. I killed a guard, who would have raped me Quackity, did you know that? And yeah, maybe I liked it, maybe it didn't affect me as much as it should, but the fact remains that he didn't fucking matter and he doesn't now. Fundy did worse, but you didn't seem to have an issue teaming up with him, did you? And Schlatt, he's more of a psychopath than me, but you wanted him."
"And I'm sorry! I am so fucking sorry Rosemary, I know how much I fucked up. And I don't know if I can redeem myself, I don't know if I can ever be forgiven, but you still have hope, you still have an opportunity to go back to yourself, to let go of the past. I don't want to see you go down this route Rosa, you deserve better."
"I deserved better since the day I was fucking born, since the day I met Dream, since the day my Dad left me in the forest, since the day Fundy took me. I deserve better than you, and him, and Schlatt, and George, and Eret, and- and probably Wilbur too, if I'm being fucking honest with myself! But it's too late now." I shake my head, looking up at the ceiling, and back at Quackity, wide eyes, and a slightly pale face. "I deserve to make them pay for everything that has been done to me."
"So what you're just going to kill-"
"You aren't listening!" I scream over him, jabbing my finger in his direction. "I don't want to kill any of them, except Schlatt obviously, I just want you to know that I deserve to be like this. To stop fucking feeling, to stop being so fucking weak, and vulnerable and pathetic, so that I never, never have to go through what has been done to me again."
"This isn't the life you should live." He says sadly, looking over at me with pitying eyes, and it makes me want to lunge forward and gouge them straight out of their sockets. I am not weak. I do not need to be pitied.
"It's the life I have left." I reply stiffly, fingers itching at my waist, muscles tense in my stomach.
"There is more out there, I promise."
"When have you ever given me a reason to believe you."
"You have hope, I know you do, even if you bury it, even if you hate it, and that's reason enough."
I purse my lips, before they slowly spread out in a tight lipped smile, that I know does not reach my eyes, because I'm boring them directly into his skull. "Wow Quackity, you've become so insightful, what a shame this wisdom wasn't there when you helped two of the most fucked up people I've ever encountered, which is a fucking feat, just by the way, gain control of my country, my family, MY ENTIRE LIFE!"
"I'm sorry." He whispers.
The frostiness in my eyes must melt, must give way to the blaze they alight with, the heat of which I can feel rising onto my cheeks. "Too fucking late." I whisper back.
The door swings open before either of us gets a chance to add fuel onto the poisonous fire we've been stoking.
"Quackity I-"
It's Tubbo.
Tubbo, who hasn't grown since I've last seen him, Tubbo, who's thinner than he should be, even compared to when we were in the war, Tubbo, who's dressed in a fucking suit, the same one he was wearing when he turned us in, the same blood red tie, that matches Fundy's shirt, and my fists, and the headset that bounced on the floor, that horrible fucking night. Tubbo, who has purple bruises on his face, and holds himself the way someone with cracked ribs would, Tubbo with the same hardened expression no-one his age should be wearing, the same one I saw when I walked out of his life for what I never knew would be the last time.
Tubbo the little kid.
Tubbo the traitor.
"Rosie." His voice is tiny. I had forgotten what he sounded like.
"Tubbo." My voice is strangled, and the name doesn't feel familiar coming from my lips.
His eyes are horribly wide, still shocked, but they start to flitter between Quackity and I, frenzied little glances as the cogs in his brain turn to put the pieces together. There's dread forming a pit in my stomach for the moment he does.
"Wh- what is she doing here?" He directs the question at Quackity. I won't lie and say it doesn't still sting a little.
"Rosemary escaped from Dream, I'm letting her stay here until everything dies down enough for her to get out."
"She escaped?" Tubbo repeats. "You realise she was put into Dream's custody, still under sentence from Schlatt? She's an escaped convict!"
"They'll never think to look for her in the Vice Presidents house." Quackity replies smoothly, while I stare blankly at the patch of the wall right behind Tubbo's head.
"You should hand her in, if Schlatt finds out-"
My eyes snap over to his. "If you hand me over to Schlatt I will fucking kill you." I hiss.
"Rosa-"
"You think I'm being dramatic?" I snarl, twisting my head to look at Quackity. "I will murder both of you without blinking, I swear to fucking god, Quackity."
Tubbo goes white, and Quackity shifts uncomfortably. "N-No one's going to hand you over to Schlatt."
"Good." I tilt my head. "Tubbo?"
"I-I-"
"Aw thank you Tubbo, I'm so glad you're willing to not betray me, it means a lot." I say, far too sweetly.
"Quackity?" Tubbo looks back over uncertainly to the man in question. Quackity just nods slightly.
"She's your family Tubbo, we have to protect her."
My eyes narrow. "We used to be family. He gave that up when he got Jack killed."
"They were breaking the rules, I had to tell Schlatt." Tubbo says quietly, more to himself than to either of us, tears welling up in his downturned eyes. "I had to tell him, I had to tell him, he would be angry, I had to tell him."
I look over at Quackity. "What the fuck has he done to him?"
Quackity looks defeated, and I notice the faint lines that slice out from under his hairline, light pink against tan skin and coal black hair, the rings of purple still hanging under his eyes. He looks down at his feet, and then fixes his gaze blankly on the table. "Same thing he did to me."
"Jesus fucking Christ." I mutter, glancing between the two of them. "How lon- When did he start doing this?"
"When we couldn't find Tommy and Wilbur he got angry." Quackity answers. Tubbo hasn't moved.
"So he, what? Hit you? Are you serious?"
"He has to take his anger out on someone."
"Why the fuck is it Tubbo?" I hiss, stepping into his personal space, levelling my face with his. "And not you?"
"I try." Quackity says, desperately. "I can't get there in time, and sometimes he finds Tubbo, but I try, I get the most of it."
"You watch him murder Jack, you watch him beat the shit out of a child and you, you watch him destroy Niki's life, you watch him exile Tommy and Wilbur from the only home they've ever truly had, you watch him bring back someone truly evil, and so fucking vile just to rub my face in it, and you still support him." I snarl, disgusted. "What the fuck is it going to take for you to stop?"
"You don't get it, it's not that simple-"
"Not that simple? Not that simple?" I repeat, in a mix of hysterical disbelief and outrage. "What is Schlatt going to have to do to get you to leave?"
"We can't just leave."
"George did."
"Yeah, and now no one else can. Schlatt is paranoid, and after George he tightened everything, surveillance, patrols, punishments. It doesn't matter that I'm the Vice President, he will hurt me, and Tubbo, and everyone that's left."
"I didn't forgive George." I say, looking up, and at Tubbo, for the first time it feels like I'm truly seeing him. I want to hate him so much for Jack's death, for what I went through, what we all did, for picking Schlatt, for leaving me, but I can't. He's a fucking kid. He doesn't deserve this. "And I know I will never forgive you. But Tubbo deserves a life Quackity, one where he doesn't need to be a member of a fucking cabinet, or a pawn in a war. He deserves to be a kid."
"Schlatt says I'm not a child anymore." Tubbo's voice is so small it makes me want to cry. "He says I need to grow up."
"That's not true." I say gently. "You always were a child, and you're still one now, and you have had that stolen from you, by men like Schlatt, and Dream." I look back at Quackity. "Don't steal what he has left from him too."
"I can't."
I want to take his head, and slam it into the table, I want to put that pathetic, sad, self-pitying mug through his goddamn window, I want to make it gush bloody red, I want him too hurt, like I hurt, so he knows, take a knife and trace it deep into his arms, I want him too know.
Maybe he wouldn't be so fucking weak then.
"Figure out a fucking way." I spit. I can't stand the sight of him, not anymore.
I will give up my life, over and over and over again, for my family, for those who I love. I gave it up for Tommy and Tubbo, for Wilbur, for Fundy, back what feels like millennia ago, when I had a choice between myself and the revolution, when I let Dream take me, and I would do it again, without a second thought. Even though it dooms me.
There are things much worse than death, and I would go through them too.
But Quackity was always a coward. Not that I could ever understand it.
I sit on the edge of the bed, head in my hands. How far have I come from that girl back then? The naivety of not knowing pain, of not falling in love, so blissfully unaware of what our future would hold. I wish I could go back to a time, where kidnapping was the worst thing that had happened to me.
Before Dream invaded my brain, and my thoughts, before Fundy tore about my body with violence and hatred, before my world fractured into pieces too small for me to pick back up, fine dust remains of a life I knew, the person I was, gone with the wind, never to be recovered, or remade, never to come back.
I want my Mum, and Sam, and Niki. I want Tommy and Tubbo safe, so they don't have to grow up like I did, so they don't become the monster I am.
Because Quackity is right about one thing. I am a monster. I was a healer, helping even my worst enemies, too scared to inflict pain. That is not who I am anymore. I will not fight it, I will not change it, because it is who I am now, it protects me, it keeps me safe, it stops powerful men hurting me like they did.
But that is not the life anyone deserves to live, especially not them.
"Rosie?" The quiet voice is accompanied by a hesitant knock outside the oak door.
This is that one moment, where I get to make a decision that determines the course of this relationship, and our lives. And I could be selfish, oh it would be so easy to be selfish, but he never deserved that.
"Yeah?"
The door opens slowly, and Tubbo steps nervously into my room.
"I- I'm sorry. I didn't want Jack to die, I didn't know, I promise."
"I know Tubbo." I say sadly, folding my arms in my lap. "I know."
"Is it true?" He asks, tear sliding down his cheeks. "Are we not family anymore?"
"I-" I falter. Is it true? Do I really believe that? Do I really not care about him anymore. I think I know deep down, that could never be true. "No. No it's not true."
"I know why you said it." He rasps, more tears spilling over his lashes, choking up his words. "I'm so sorry."
"He's gone." I say softly, but it's not unkind this time. "Fundy and Schlatt killed him, not you."
"I told them though." He sobs softly. "I told them, and he wouldn't be dead if I didn't."
"Tubbo." I say, but more firmly. "Was Schlatt hurting you then?" I remember the pale skin and nervous eyes that darted around the room, how terrified he was.
He nods. "I broke the rules, and he kicks me when I break the rules."
I am going to rip out Schlatt's fucking spine and feed it to him.
"It's not your fault." I don't know if I believe it. It doesn't even matter now. "I'm sorry for blaming you."
"It is my fault."
"No." I open my arms out, even though every part of my body is screaming at me to stop, and I just want to hide away, and curl into a ball, or drink so much I go completely numb, so I don't have to feel this anymore. But that's part of being human, and it's part of living, and I will have to learn to embrace them. Tubbo blinks, then slams into them at full force, and I wrap them around his shaking frame tightly. "It is not your fault, okay? It is Schlatt's, and Fundy's, and maybe even Quackity's, but it is not yours."
"I thought-t you h-hated me." He sobs, face buried in my shoulder. I lean my cheek on the top of his head, squeezing him for dear life, both of us clinging on like if we let go, we'll be ripped away from each other.
"I was really sad, and lonely, and I was really scared Tubbo, and I'm so sorry for taking it out on you. I could never hate you." I say into his hair. "I'm so sorry."
"I m-missed you." He whimpers into my now damp shoulder. If I wasn't so exhausted, I'd sobbing just as hard too. "I thought I was a traitor and you hated me."
"Hey." I say softly, pulling his head up so he can look at me. "I do not blame you, I don't think you're a traitor, and I love you so much Tubbo, okay? I love you."
"But I helped our enemies, I joined their side."
I widen my eyes. "You are looking at the girl who fell in love with Dream, do you think I'm in a position to judge you?"
His hands close over mine. "That wasn't you fault either."
I manage a smile, and a half-hearted scoff. "Yeah, but it was probably worse."
And maybe, my heart wasn't as broken as I thought it was.
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A/N Yeah okay, I have a soft spot for Tubbo, I'm human I guess.
This is kind of the first time that Rosie acknowledges the fact that she has become much more numb and 'turned into a monster', but while she does take that step, she also is completely okay, with not just it, but also acknowledging it and recognising it, showing she has fully accepted it as apart of herself. She knows it's not healthy, and she doesn't want anyone else to be like her, but she is still terrified of being weak and wants to protect herself at all costs. We also see how much she cares about Tommy and Tubbo, and how she still has those instincts to protect them.
I don't blame Tubbo for his actions. He was being intimidated and physically and emotionally abused (and still is). He's a kid, swept up in a dictatorship, brainwashed and terrified out of his mind, and he had no idea that Fundy was going to kill Jack, he thought they'd all just be arrested. He freaked out and did the thing he'd been conditioned to do through violence and manipulation, and I think it's a huge step for Rosie to recognise that and accept that for him. She so clearly wants better for them than what she has.
Pogtopia POVS, festival and revisiting our old favourites right around the corner! Thank you for your support!
I hope you enjoyed,
Oopsies x