ＯＵＴ ＯＦ ＬＵＸ discussion

   
   
       ❝   caledonia's log   ❞    


Ideas:
All are out of order:

✧.* cal and katarina (post-ceonrei)
✧.* cal and alianna meeting for the first time
✧.* cal and avaliyah meeting for the first time
✧.* katarina adopts cal
✧.* father introduction
✧.* finding and joining fighting ring
✧.* sad moments from youth (father interactions, alianna's torment, cogsworks' years and bullying)
✧.* noble galas
✧.* getting together with vali
✧.* sweet dates
✧.* breakup
✧.* angry
✧.* killing her father
✧.* becoming councilor/work for them after
✧.* becoming sergeant
✧.* military moments
✧.* finds body drained of magic?
✧.* adopting cats
✧.* moments of recovery/helping people

Caledonia X Avaliyah

Voxthain, Birthday Gala for Alianna Calico

Age 15

(view spoiler)[ ((brief mentions of abuse and homophobia, nothing graphic)) (hide spoiler)]

The waltz music droned on. And on and on. Draping herself against a marble column, Caledonia scanned the ballroom with its bright lights and flowing banners before her eyes dropped to the people. A cacophony of colors swirled together from ladies’ gowns as they danced across the room in the arms of the men, some of whom were in slightly less obnoxious colors, while other could outrank the women in the offensiveness of the color schemes. Occasionally, her eyes snapped to couples with two women or two men, and a burning of desire, of longing, pierced inside her before she shoved it down again.

No.

Instead, Cal let her vision glaze over again, biting back an eye roll at the way everyone laughed too loudly or gazed into their partners’ eyes too lovingly, the way over-eager nobles chomped on the food in the corner too much. She’d been watching one man come and go to that table at least twelve times now. Didn’t he have enough? Didn’t any of these people have enough?

Staring down at her own plate sitting beside her on a bench, Cal passingly noted it could seem as if she’d ate nothing. No crumbs left behind from the one savory and one sweet tart she’d let herself indulge in before coming over here and sitting. Even though it had been eleven years, and even though she’d only been a toddler, food insecurity had done its overdue diligence on her.

That food in the corner could feed so many people in Voxthain, and yet all the Council--and worse, the noble houses, specifically the Calicos right now--cared about was that every single dish the spoiled, bratty heir to the Calico house even remotely liked was on that table. Because of course they had to waste food and time for a whole-ass birthday gala for one person, invite all the noble houses, and of course Cal had to go, because if she didn't, well...she was vying for Councilor one day, to make real change. If she didn't show up here--like years before this and most other events--she'd be labelled as even more cold and reclusive than she already was. She needed supporters. Besides. Mama was away for the militia, leaving Cal in James' "care". If she didn't go, she'd pay the price, and that wasn't something she could stomach right now. Thankfully, she'd lost track of him, but not thankfully, Alianna was easy ton see.

The bitch stood to the side, blonde hair tousled and jeweled tiara matching a long red gown and ruby shoes. A spitting image of goodness and nobility as she charmed guests with sweet smiles and thick lashes against freckled cheeks, glowing like magic.

Caledonia wanted to vomit all over her and that dress, all over her perfect face that looked so gracious as she giggled behind silk gloves at something some noble said. But even from here, Cal could see a danger to her, something lethal she knew all too well.

An anxious knot threaded in her stomach, and she looked away, shivers breaking along her arms, and quickly got up and switched benches to not be within Calico's line of sight. She really couldn't handle any humiliating, sadistic prank she and her posse decided to try and dole out tonight, and she had refused to work security for this event. She was militia, but Cal wasn't about to protect someone she didn't think she'd mind the shadowfog eating.

That said, she couldn’t kick out her instincts, and was constantly scanning for threats, nerves buzzing and leg bouncing on the marble floor. Wave after wave of heady anger, sickness, and frustration pounded against her no matter how she tried to distract herself--the utter, disgusting luxury in this room made her ill. So many of these items could be traded to the people who needed them most, to trade for food, clothing, better materials for their homes. But instead, they had a fucking punch fountain made of gold. Screw the Calicos and their nasty Delacroix relatives. With a hiss, Cal tipped a glass of wine back, the champagne fizzing on her tongue. May as well get tipsy as fuck, who cared she was young?

“This is some party, huh?” A flash of burgundy and gold filled her vision before someone sat down next to her and sighed. “Boring as hell. We’d be better off leaving and having some archery competition.”

Cal's breath caught, and suddenly, she was already tipsy. The smell of strawberries and vanilla hit her nose, and her throat tightened as the voice seized the innermost part of her and woke her up, something rushing through her head as her stomach flipped. “I—yeah—but we can’t,” she stammered as she turned to face her best (only, sort of), friend.

Lady Avaliyah Thorne had her back slouched against the pillar, hands tapping at the gold embellishment around her waist, matching a dusting of gold dancing next to her eyes that looked lovely against her dark skin. Eyes of the deepest brown drew Cal in every time she saw them. Luminos, she was falling.

“I know. I’m just…talking I suppose.” Vali turned her gaze from the gala to Caledonia, and as soon as their eyes met, the soldier felt as if someone had stolen the breath from her lungs, like she’d forgotten how to breathe, just staring at her. “…Cal?”

“Ah—what?” Caledonia choked as her senses flooded back and she turned to look back at Alianna, barely visible through so many nobles swirling around like preening peacocks. Asshats. Vali looks so much prettier.

No way she’d ever say that to her, though part of her wanted to. In fact, her whole body wanted to get closer to Vali: to sit against her so their elbows touched, and then their arms and shoulders. Which was...sometimes, Cal couldn't believe she wanted to hold her hand. She was not good with touch, as a general rule, but she'd be damned if every day for the past year all she'd wanted was to know what Vali's lips felt like on hers.

And each time Avaliyah even bumped into her, Caledonia’s mind went numb and the place they made contact burned. She craved it. That and sitting and talking for ages...and Caledonia hated talking.

“Nothing, just—you’re staring.”

Fuck. Help. Cal shook her head, dropping her haze down at her pants. She found and picked at a loose thread to hide the faint pink creeping up her cheeks. “Just—you look nice tonight, is all. Clean up well,” she forced out awkwardly, kicking herself. Dumbass! Avaliyah probably doesn't feel the same way. Yet Cal was down the rabbit hole, slipping further each time they spoke.

A smile split Vali’s face. “Thanks! So do you. You look very dashing.”

The pink blossomed to a red; the brunette cursed her pale skin, so susceptible to a blush. Her ears burned. “Thanks." She glanced down once, not paying attention, at her black slacks, boots, and button-up shirt, a silk tie across her chest. Her black suit jacket had been thrown over all of it.

"And, uh, yeah, this gala sucks. Too many nobles and people and—and the food,” she added, gesturing towards the table and latching onto it desperately. “Too much. We could feed so many people who need it.” Part of her always felt awkward when she mentioned this, because the looks people had given her were always disgusted. The bullying and jeers even worse. Cal knew she didn't belong in this grotesque world. She wasn't born in it, and everyone knew it.

“You’re right,” Avaliyah agreed instead. “Have you spoke to Council?"

“Not yet. I'm working on ideas. Programs to get leftover food," she added, the idea striking her like electricity, and her spine straightened.

Vali's smile made her her heart soar. "I like that," she whispered.

For a moment, they sat in silence, watching, but Vali spoke a second after a waltz started up. "Wanna dance?"

“I--” The world spun around Cal as Vali's question pushed to the forefront of her mind. She whipped her head around to stare. Yesyesyes—But—why was Vali asking her? Was she—oh. Probably as a friend. Like being silly and whatnot, because Vali still had a sense of childhood Caledonia didn’t. Cal didn’t move. She wanted to dance with her—to take her in her arms and hold her close—but even as friends she couldn’t.

Caledonia was too scared to dance with her. Too scared of more laughter. Of points and stares and dammit, she didn’t want her father, or Alianna, to see. “I—too many people and we don’t have enough room in here,” she stated instead, calmly as she could.

But Vali just nodded, extending a hand. “Come on.”

“Wh-what?”

Her dark eyes sparkled, and Caledonia sucked in a breath. Her hand just sat there, open and inviting and—she grabbed it, her heart leaping as her skin tingled, warm and alive as Avaliyah pulled her to her feet. “If room is the issue, let's go here.”

Cal nodded and let Vali pull her behind a thick curtain, where a few couches sat along the wall. The hallway was a little darker, but no soldiers lined the walls.

“We can still hear the music. I know you hate dancing, but I just--well, figured maybe—"

“I want to. I do.” Calm down, Hayden. She only means as friends. She’d have to remember that. But, may as well make it fun, she supposed, before sighing and smiling. Caledonia bowed, a bit over the top. “My lady. My I have this dance?”

A grin split Vali’s face and she curtsied in turn. “Of course, my—lord? Lady?”

“Neither.” Caledonia straightened and held her arm out, the way she’d seen most of the men do. She felt more comfortable in the traditional male role, hating the way women were led around the dance floor like pawns. Vali had never expressed hatred in it the way Caledonia had, but she’d let her friend lead if she wanted to. But Vali took her arm, sending Caledonia’s heart into her throat, beating furiously against her ribs.

Vali was oddly quiet right then as Cal pulled her into the waltz in time with the music. Both women knew the steps backwards and forwards from stupid lessons—a waste, Cal often believed—but it made it easy now. Especially because Caledonia’s mind was not on the dance, but on the fact Vali was less than a foot from her, her hands on her arms and—her face. Fuck, she was close: close enough to see each individual dust of gold makeup on her eyes, and the proximity made Caledonia’s head spin, her breathing running ragged.

Each time she looked at her friend she felt her whole body go warm. She wanted to pull her close and press her lips against Vali’s, and—oh shit. Nope. Caledonia realized with a blush she was staring at her lips. She tore her gaze away with a mental shake and continued the dance. “Is this okay?” She murmured.

“Yes.”

Maybe she was imagining it, but Vali seemed to have breathed out that word. Why? Could it mean—no. Gosh dammit; she needed to get her head on right. Not on straight. Because try as she may, Caledonia Hayden wasn’t straight.

When the music stopped, so did they, almost perfectly in tune. For a second, they just stared, in silence. But Caledonia was desperate. The dance, the proximity, she wanted more, her head spinning. She wanted to capture Avaliyah’s lips in a kiss, just one quick one, and that’s all. It wouldn’t be the end of the world, right, her senses alive and she leaned down and—reality gripped her two seconds later and she jerked back, pulling herself away from the beautiful woman before her.

No. What the hell, Hayden. Oh Luminos— Her ears burned as her cheeks flushed. Their relationship, their friendship, would never be the same because there was no way Vali would miss that Cal had just dipped her head to kiss her and--

She was about to apologize when a tug on her tie drew her attention back to Vali. “Wh—“ She started, but the second she moved her head back to Avaliyah, she found Vali’s lips pressed against hers.

Caledonia’s stomach pooled. Thoughtless, shocked, she grabbed Vali and pulled her closer, deepening the kiss she’d been vying after all night, shocked as one of Vali’s hands went along her back and the other wrapped around her and pulled her close. Her stomach flipped, her heart stuttered, her lips tingled and all she could think about was kissing Vali, was how this was right and how she wanted this to never end. How she was head over heels. Voxthain could burn tonight, and she'd not care.

After a few seconds, both pulled away, slightly breathless, and Caledonia numbly touched her lips. “I—“ She choked. All she wanted was to kiss her again. “You kissed me.”

“Because you backed out.”

“So you—did it because I—I’m sorry, I just—I’ll never do it again, I—"

“Cal. Calm down.” Vali reached out, and Caledonia’s breath caught in her throat as Vali gently placed a hand on her cheek. Lovingly. Not with a stinging slap like Father did. She almost choked, her fingers warm and soft against her cheek, and Cal found she didn't want them to move. Not even if the shadowfog rolled through the party like a cocky uninvited guest. “I also did it because I thought you were going to, and when you didn’t, I could tell you wanted to...and so did I.”

All the brunette could focus on was her frantic heart beating, how alive she felt, was Vali’s hand on her face, was that Vali said so did I. “You mean—I—Vali you don’t have to pretend. I did a stupid thing and I’m sorry. I-I-I may as well say it. I like you. A lot. And I don’t want it to wreck our friendship but it’s true. I'm just--I couldn't help my--my feelings, and I know most nobles--or--or my father and the--the Calicos think that me...liking you, as another woman, is--is wrong, while others just want me to marry someone for...for politics, but I...I'm sorry, it won't happen--"

“Cal. I’m not pretending.” Vali took a step closer, just serving to send Cal's heart reeling again. “I like you too. A lot. I, um, I have ave for a few months now." Avaliyah ducked her head, her curls slipping over her shoulder to hide the slight blush visible against her dark skin. Cal clenched her jaw, her fingers twitching with the urge to touch her cheek the way Avaliyah had just done to her. Instead, she curled her hands into fists and rocked back and forth on her heels, waiting for her to finish talking.

Vali took a deep breath, and Cal could see it shaking her lungs. "But I knew—I knew that you tried to hide that part of yourself after what happened at Cogsworks, and after the...the nasty rumors and bullying, and…I didn’t want to make anything worse but then you started to kiss me and I figured I’d make it easier on you so you know I also like you. And, well, if we never do it again at least we can say we kissed. Stole one moment. Truly, also, I-I had no idea how I was going to tell you, or--or even if I would, I was so anxious. So, really, this--this is good. We stole a moment."

Breathy, heart thudding, Caledonia reached up with shaking fingers and brushed a hand through Vali’s curls, loose from the box braids she usually wore her black hair in. She swallowed hard. “I want to do it again. I—" The fact Avaliyah had done this for her, that she was mindful of her past, just made Caledonia want to hug her close. Made her fall deeper for her. “I’ve liked you for a year now. And I didn’t know you also liked me back; I just…I knew you were accepting of me but I didn’t—I didn’t know—"

“I know. I should have told you. I like men and women. But I..." Vali clenched her jaw, but she made no move to shoe Cal away from playing with her hair. "It was not easy for me to admit to myself."

“Well, I'm happy for you. And no, you shouldn’t have told me, not if you didn’t want to. I of all people know that it’s…terrifying…to tell someone you hope will support you only to have them…shun you instead.” Like James. She’d been only nine, still in the mindset she could make her adoptive father love her. She’d been so excited she had a crush on one of other noble girls that she had seen around sometimes, so she’d told her parents. Katarina had been excited for her. James had slapped her instead, and ever since then, he'd been even worse to her. Each thing about her seemed to be ammunition against her, as far as her adopted father was concerned. Fear of him perpetually lived in her gut. Cold. Icy.

Caledonia ran her hand down Vali’s arm and laced their fingers together. She stared down at their joined hands, at Vali’s smoother hand and her own calloused one. Looking back up, Caledonia locked eyes with her. “But thank you for trusting me enough to tell me. And—my turn for more honesty.” She ran her thumb alongside the back of Vali’s hand, still shocked she was doing this, that Vali was letting her, that she felt the same way and they had kissed! They'd...kissed. “What if we—what if we went for it? Dated?”

Nope! What are you doing?! Her mind screamed at her to stop. To stop acting on emotions of all things. But she was finding it hard to stop herself. No longer could she hear the string instruments beyond the curtain, the mindless chatter of the asshat nobles and their sick finery. All she could hear was her own heartbeat, their breaths, and all she could see was Avaliyah, her beautiful dark eyes and her sweet smile, her glittering gold makeup and her deep burgundy dress, glistening when she moved under the glowing lights.

Avaliyah gave a sharp intake of breath. “I—are you—you mean that? I mean yes, I was going to ask but you—you're…that’s…a relationship. Cal, you…you hate feelings and vulnerability. And…as much as I want to, I don’t want your father to hurt you because of this.”

Caledonia squeezed Avaliyah’s hand. Her stomach twisted. I know. Neither do I. “I-I know. I do. But I also—I can’t —let him control my life. I’ve been standing up to him in ways for years. And…I just don’t want him to be the reason I don’t…take a chance. But,” she added quietly. “That said. Can we keep it a secret? Aside from Mama and if you trust your family?”

Vali nodded. “We can keep it a secret, of course we can. My family, they…don’t understand that you like women but…they’re not…they’re not your father. But I think let’s just keep it between you and me. And my brother? Anden was...well, he was the first one I told about liking men and women. He understands.” She raised into her tip toes and pressed another quick kiss that left Caledonia wanting more kisses against her lips. “And your strength and resolve are two reasons I like you so much,” she whispered. “And I’ll always stand with you. You know that. It’s okay if it takes you awhile with being vulnerable.”

Caledonia looked down, unsure what to even say about that. What was she supposed to react with? It was awkward--she sucked at emotions and such, anger aside. Finally, she looked up again. “Thank you, Vali. You know I’ll always stand with you too.”

“I know. Like when you stood up for me and beat up all those people at school for looking at me wrong. Like when you defended me to Alianna.” Vali smiled; her eyes glistened. “You’re my knight in shining armor, Caledonia Hayden.”

“And you’re my lady,” Caledonia murmured back before this time, she leaned down and initiated the kiss, pulling Vali close and into her arms. Nothing had ever felt so right. Finally, finally, something about tonight--about her life--was getting better, going right, looking up. And she would fight anyone who tried to take this from them both.

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ 𝑪𝒂𝒍𝒆𝒅𝒐𝒏𝒊𝒂 𝑯𝒂𝒚𝒅𝒆𝒏

the night after the tavern incident, a few days before meeting with sapphira:

hayden estate

Caledonia's hands shook as she slammed the door shut to her room, the heavy round ricocheting unpleasantly through her head. Though, it could have been way worse if it weren't for her body's own vibrations buzzing in her brain. Everyone had them, but her magic had her attuned to them, allowed her to use them. Her awareness of them was almost defeaning now, and she worried she'd do something else like she had only an hour ago--shatter something, or someone.

Her shaking hand dropped the black bag she always brought down to Asterath, the thud muffled on the thick rug across polished, dark wood of the floor. "Don't,"she-he-she had said, and that word, that one little word, taunting her all the way back through the disgustingly claustrophobic city. Voxthain's fresh air biting against her cheeks, the stars in a graceful arc across the sky, had helped soothe the edge off her temper, but rage remained as it always had for Caledonia--a part of her, roiling, red, and ready to boil. Now, it wasn't just rage but shame, frustration, guilt. Shame that she was still impacted, all these years later. Frustration with herself, anger with herself, with Ceonrei Fucking Dirith and with him. And guilt? Guilt over the way she had told Hannah, lovely Hannah, to shut up in a turmoil of rage and pain she couldn't even begin to fully understand.

She hit the closed door and slid down it, her knees trembling, and as soon as her body touched the ground, her brain racing, she curled up, knees to her chest, because if she was smaller, if she was meeker, if she just hid, then he couldn't find her. Nobody could find her, Ceonrei could die, he could die, he could--Caledonia let out a silent scream, her own words, and Ceonerei's, dancing in her head, whipping about like gleaming bullets, hitting and bleeding, and her hand--her hand stung, a prickling sensation like fire trailing in the spots Ceonrei's nails had pressed, then fanning out across the rest of her palm, her fingers--

'Don't.' Caledonia hissed, and she slapped her hand on her knee. "Get off me," she spat. "Just--just get off get away get away--" The world swayed as she bolted to her feet. Distantly, the sounds of a hooting owl cut through the fog, followed by a few different pitches of 'meow'--at least of of her three cats--but Cal couldn't pinpoint the locations, nor care too, as the itching, burning sensation seemed to spread up her arm. Shaking, she stumbled towards the attached bathroom in her chambers, while the feeling of heavy, phantom hands and fingers seemed to clasp around her, ghosts in her memories and past harshly grabbing her arm, her shoulder, her hand, and--

The cold of the shower water hit like electricity, like a gulp of fresh air, and Caledonia closed her eyes as it ran down her face, dripping into her mouth, ears, and nose and washing away the sweat, the stench of alcohol and blood from the ring, and the phantom touches across her skin. Furiously, she cleaned herself, and a half hour and two washings later, she turned the water off, waving a hand and sending the water back up the pipes. Evocation was her strongest magic, and in that, she was skilled with earth, water, and her vibrations. For Cal, who had a steady militia job atop being a Councillor and spending time with the people she helped, learning anything else would just make her impatient, and she had no time to find more magic that suited her. This was enough--powerful, defensive, offensive, and useful for everyday things.

Now, as she dried off and changed into a pair of black sweatpants, fuzzy green socks and a sweatshirt, both matching her eyes, she found her mind a little calmer. She'd never admit it, but the lavender scent she used for her bath products calmed her down, helped to get her mind out of a spiral or a flashback on multiple occasions. No spiraling anymore, Cal stalked towards her bed and down heavily, curling up on her side and holding out a hand for River, her little grey kitten.

He sniffed her fingers before chirping and beginning to purr, shoving his soft head against her palm. He was the only one to get a real smile out of her tonight, even if it didn't reach her eyes like her babies usually could do.

Because the anger, hurt, pain, shame, and guilt remained. Ceonrei's final message still seemed to loom in the forefront of her mind like a brand. "I was trying to help you. It seems like you’ve answered the question of why I don’t care, Caledonia. Assholes like you who only hurt everyone around them. Good fucking riddance." It had her roiling in rage, in guilt, in too many complex emotions to choke her way through. In her opinion, still, Ceonrei had started it. Because how in all of Lux had Ceonrei grabbing her, digging her nails into her, been a sign of help? That was an act of a controlling monster, and Cal knew that better than anyone. Curling her shaking fingers into River's soft fur, she allowed his small body and gentle purrs to soothe her a little further.

Still, it had her feeling sick inside. That was who Asterath had elected: someone was clearly unafraid to throw her power and weight around. Cal knew, because she had grown up with someone like that, and to know Ceonrei was...set loose on innocent people in Asterath, to bully and abuse--it was sick. She had readily admitted she didn't care. There was something wrong with Asterathi people, and really, she had always known this. Serpentine, in particular, was a whole slew of horrors. And then she turned the blame on Cal?

I don't. I don't hurt everyone around me. For some reason, it stung. That cut deep. She knew she helped people, but one of her deepest fears was turning into him. Okay, so Cal pushed people away, didn't trust them. But did that mean she hurt everyone around her? The kids she loved, the people she tried to talk with, the women she spoke with at the shelters? Am I just like him? No. No, Ceonrei is. Grabbing people, pushing them around. The whole thing had her feeling like she was a helpless child again, and she was at a terrified, disheartened loss as she sat there, curled around River, who didn't seem to mind her busted lip or the beer on her breath. How was she still being told she hurt people? How were people still...hurting her like this?

Reaching for her hood, she yanked it over her head, her dark hair ruffled and mussed under it, sticking out like dark chocolate tufts. Just to hide. To get away from it all, even though she wanted to start beating something up.

Okay, fine. She had harmed Hannah, and that was something she needed to get over her pride about and apologize to her. But Ceonrei? After their first meeting, Cal had actually been thinking about apologizing for the way she had blown up at her, because to be fair, she had been in a sour mood when the meeting began, and she knew it had influenced her thoughts and actions. Her whole life had, honestly, every word and stone thrown had created her, ripping her down and building her back up again into this--this stone, this mess, this asshole,, Ceonrei would say. And yeah, fine, she could be an ass. But she was not an abuser or a bully, not like Ceonrei had shown herself to be. She wasn't apologizing to her after that, and really, she wished she had shattered her damn bones all the way up her arm.

Next time. Nobody grabbed her without permission.

But Hannah, dear Hannah...Cal knew she'd fucked that up. But would she ever get to apologize, when the ring had been essentially wrecked for her? She hoped to any higher power that may have ever existed that she had fled before most people recognized her under her illusion. She was distinct, with her multiple piercings and tattoos and height, but...she could hope.

Despair and rage mounted again despite her purring kitten against her ribs. Like a freedom was being taken from her, a cage being firmly fastened, a noose tightening. Asterath's ring was all that had kept her alive for going on eleven horrible years now. She had not made friends there, per say, but she made...acquaintances she nevertheless hated herself for being glad to see, like Hannah and Solaea. That ring had been her outlet, it had let her cross lines the militia never would, it had let her take her rage out on people because she couldn't take it out on him.

And Ceonrei had up and ruined it. Cal was not a crier. But if she had been, she'd have hot tears rolling down her cheeks now. Instead, she was shaking, her fingers twitching, muscles tense with, somehow, still pent-up energy. She shifted, apologizing to River and slipping off the bed. Still damp from her shower, she stormed out of the room and walked down a hallway of dark marble floors, magic lights shining against the walls.

Outside, stars winked at her though the windows, but she paid them no mind as she descended into her mother's basement, where an entire training facility was set up. Cal reached for a roll of hand wrappings, carefully using her teeth to rip bandages off the roll and then wrap around her bruised, scraped hands. She exhaled, eyeing the punching bag in the corner.

And went to work.

Hit. Ceonrei can fuck herself.

Hit. So can he.

Hit.You're an asshole. Worthless piece of shit.

Hit.Don't.

Hit.Don't touch me.

Maybe it wrecked her shower, maybe she'd take another. Caledonia didn't care as sweat ran down her face after a half hour, her sweatshirt discarded in a ball by a bench. Her black tank top stuck to her ribs with sweat, adrenaline and anger all taking point and coupling together as she let out scream after scream with each practiced hit of the bag. She--

"Cala."

The one cool, gentle word cut through the storm that had begun raging in her mind, and she paused, chest heaving, her hands smarting in a familiar way that has never failed to bring comfort. Adrenaline pounded through her blood, and she processed the person behind her, by the door, before ignoring her and dropping her hands.

Without looking behind her, Cal walked over to the rack of guns lining the wall. "Did I wake you up?" She demanded. "Sorry. I'm fine. Go to bed."

"You woke me up when you stormed down the hallway. I didn't come down here after you until you were gone an hour. What happened? Are you hurt?"

Cal reached one hand to brush across her busted lip. "Nothing that won't heal with time," she grouched out. "And in any case, again, sorry, now please go to bed."

"Sweetheart--"

"Mama." She snatched a pistol from the rack, the one that fit best in her hand, its weight perfect and the barrel already loaded. Regardless, she held it before her and aimed at a target nearby, painted into the wall meant for shooting practice. "I'm fine."

"You were in Asterath again, weren't you?"

Caledonia closed her eyes, heart pounding against her ribs, a constant drum in her chest. "I'm not a child. We've cleared this up." She had kept that fact hidden from her mother for years. Only when she was eighteen had her mother figured it out.

"No," her mother agreed quietly, "you're not. But I can't help but worry when my daughter comes in after midnight and then storms down the hallway to the armory at 2 in the morning."

Caledonia had used to be subtle about it--she'd sneak in through the windows, using her magic to lengthen and thicken the vines growing up the side of the manor until they were able to support her weight, just to avoid running into her father who could have been wandering the hallways at any given time. Then she'd tiptoe down to the armory, and back again. Since his arrest and subsequent...death...she had simply stopped being careful, allowing her bad mood to show wherever she went. This had never been his home, and really, hers, either, but as far as she was concerned, more hers than his.

Finally, stifling a groan, Cal turned. Katarina Hayden had stepped a little closer, her long, dark hair loose and straight down her back, blue eyes wide and concerned, dark green robe tossed over her pajamas. "Oh, honey, your face--"

"Is fine." This. This was why she should have just gone home-home. Cal had bought a simple cottage in Voxthain, on the outskirts of the city, by a lush forest and a crystalline lake. Peaceful. Isolated. But more often than not, she found herself at her mother's place, despite the manor holding so many negative memories. Maybe because, despite all of that, and despite her swell of irritation her mother had caught her up so late, she had wanted to be in her vicinity. Her cats were here, anyway, as they preferred her old space to the new one she'd attained.

"No, it's not. You--your lip. And the bruising--let me--let me just--"

"Stop. Just stop trying to make up for it," Cal interrupted harshly, her comment a low blow, but with the intended result as Katarina froze, her lips parting in shock before she did the unthinkable and flinched like a kicked puppy. A muscle in Cal's jaw twitched, guilt over Hannah nothing in comparison to the sharpened blade of it now, stabbed in her gut. She pressed her lips together, ran a hand along her forehead. "I'm sorry. That was--not--called for--just--I'm fine. It's fine."

"Do you want to talk about it?"

How are you so good? She could say the most hurtful thing, and Katarina would stand by her. Cal eyed her, one hand still wrapped around the handle of her pistol. "No. Nothing to even talk about, just that joker Asterath Councillor I told you about? Her? Ran into her at a bar tonight. Big, controlling bully, that one. Had the nerve to turn it on me, too, and she got handsy."

"Handsy? Cala, did you--"

"Broke every bone in her hand? I sure did." A lump tightened, clogging her throat, and Cal squeezed the handle before she turned away from her mother's probing eyes, before she could watch her form a reason for exactly why that was a problem. Handsy always was, but for Cal, it a special kind of problem, and one she didn't exactly give people a reason behind before she kicked their asses into the dirt. Metal cold under her hand, she aimed the gun at the target and fired off four shots, hitting dead center or close to it, before she lowered her arm again. "So if you wanna tell me off, do it. Do I hurt everyone around me, Mama?"

"Of course not. You had ever right to break her hand if she--I'm sorry Caledonia. Did she say this?"

"Just--" What the hell am I doing? She didn't need to dump this onto her mother, and she had never planned to. But Ceonrei had left her feeling like that scared little girl again, the girl who was terrified to make one small wrong move, a wrong look, in the wrong direction, and that girl had only ever wanted to find love and comfort in her mother, which she had never honestly been able to do until a few years ago. Maybe that girl was speaking right now.

Cal shoved her away with a vicious sneer. "I don't want to talk about this. Go to bed, Mama, please."

"Sweetheart--"

"Mama. I'll be fine." But how could she be? Would she ever be? Cal had no idea what it was like to be fine, to be okay. Life now was better than it had ever been before, and that in itself was a danger. Sure, things were problematic--the shadowfog, the nobles, the murders, Ceonrei--but she had safety now she never had had before. She knew Mama loved her, even if that love could be smothering sometimes. But Caledonia would always have a darkness, a heart shattered into millions of jagged pieces that could never be put together again, and sometimes, in the dead of night, that hurt. That she'd never know true happiness, true joy.

And nevertheless, these last few years, she had been fighting so hard to heal, in any small way she could. Her affairs with Hannah and Solaea, among two other women, were her ways of doing that. So was the fighting ring. Her work on Council. But now, Ceonrei had triggered her, and Cal felt like she had been shoved out in a ring of wild beasts without her weapons in the snow. She felt exposed, helpless...any progress she had made towards healing a little stripped away from her with a cruel laugh. Cal had not been this badly impacted in some time, and she didn't know how to handle anything, what to do.

Rather, maybe she did, but she was handling it the only way she knew how--violence.

"I'll go," Katarina finally whispered. "But I'm checking in on you. I love you."

"Love you, too." She didn't move again until the door shut, and only then did she drop the gun and curl up against the cold wall of the armory, goosebumps breaking out along her arms, somehow serving to make the ink dancing on her skin standing out sharper than usual against her paleness. Her chest heaved, that rage coming back to the surface. The guilt, the shame, the frustration, all of it. She couldn't leave the fighting ring, could she? New disguise, change her name again, or hope people were too drunk to remember much...it had been a tavern after all, and she'd ran out of there as fast as possible.

Besides. She knew she owed Hannah an apology, maybe after she had found a way to address the situation, after she spoke with Sapphira in a few days. Even if it was the last thing she did. But Ceonrei? Never. Never her. Asterath deserved a better Councillor. It was a shame Cal had no influence on Asterathi politics--she'd love to find a way to get Ceonrei pushed out of office.

Despair threatened to overwhelm her again, the room suddenly feeling too small. Shadows danced along the walls, crawled in from corners, and settled in a heavy weight across her shoulders, in the broken space between the pieces of her heart. The words wouldn't go away. The hurricane of feelings and emotions.

None of it.

Ever. Went. Away.

   
   
❝   𝓒𝓪𝓵𝓮𝓭𝓸𝓷𝓲𝓪 "𝓒𝓪𝓵" 𝓗𝓪𝔂𝓭𝓮𝓷   ❞    
   

Scene Based on "Boyfriend" by Dove Cameron
Age: 14
Summer Solstice Gala, Calico Estate


"You okay?"

Caledonia jumped, whirled around, and grabbed the arm of the person behind her, dropping the chocolate she held in her other hand on a plate by her elbow. She extended her arm towards the person, fingers out, ready to grab the vibrations in their heart or quake them away from her, heart leaping into her throat, and only relaxed when her brain belatedly processed the person's voice and face. Blowing out a breath, she released August’s arm and awkwardly brushed at the now-rumpled sleeve of his silk shirt, but her mind was still short-circuiting. Breathe. "Do not scare me like that," she commanded before stepping back and shoving the rest of the small chocolate in her mouth. "And I'm fine."

Her brother pressed his lips together, taking a few steps back. "Sorry. Um. You got chocolate on my shirt."

Caledonia rolled her eyes. "You'll live." She finished the chocolate then held up one hand, over which a silk glove sat, the tips of her fingers stained brown. "I thought about taking them off, but then, I figured seeing my dirty gloves would be a major turn-off for any man who wants to dance with me." It was supposed to be said somewhat like a joke, but she couldn't keep the facade up. It wasn't a joke, it was a very real threat.

"Which would be many of the single lords around here?"

With a sneer, Caledonia reached for another chocolate. "Yeah. Pretty much." Disgust tightened in the pit of her stomach as she cracked her teeth against the hard shell of the chocolate. She'd been eating way, way too many of these little things since the stupid gala had started, and now, her stomach was complaining; she felt a bit bloated, her teeth almost grimy with the unhealthy amounts of sugar she was putting in her body. Feeling bloated was a very new experience to her, as she never had that big of an appetite, and felt disgusting merely thinking about eating as a noble would. “You’re lucky you’re the youngest child. And a man.”

August winced. "I'm sorry, Cal." But his dark eyebrows knitted, brown eyes trailed on her chocolate. "But you're also eating so many of those chocolates. Like, too many."

Cal paused. She arched her brow. "Sorry, am I not allowed to gorge myself sick like every other asshole in the room?"

"I, um, you--you are, if you want, I just--" August took a breath. "You eat chocolate when you're stressed."

Cal slammed her hand down from her mouth, cheeks flaming behind the layers of itchy makeup her father's servants had practically forced upon her face early that evening. That was the joy of galas when Katarina Hayden was out of Voxthain on duty, and when Cogworks and militia training was on a break: Cal and August got to stay with their father at his estate. It was a time of the year she dreaded annually. "I am fine. Maybe the chocolate looks good," she snapped. Fucking astute ten-year-old brat.

"Callie, you’re my sister. Just–what happened?" He asked, careful, and Cal sneered at him.
She stared down at her silken, dark green gloves, the top edges woven intricately with gold thread. Despite the dark fabric, the chocolate stains still stood out, and she paused, staring at the heavy fabric of her gown the gloves matched to a T. Without another thought, she wiped the gloves off on her skirt, smearing chocolate across the front. That would keep all those pompous, lusty noblemen away from her.

Keep her out of more dances where they eyed her like a piece of prey, like they owned her, where their gazes dropped to her lips or the swell of her chest, which, by the way, was way too prominent in this damn dress. Her hands shook as she recalled the last man she'd danced with, the way his gaze had lingered, his fingers had been too searching, and she'd ended up spinning him into a pillar and making it look like an accident when she had the chance, before breaking every bone in his hand.

She knew her father was going to throw a fit if he knew, but she hoped he wouldn't find out--she could smile the pillar off as a "clumsy accident"; after all, she was common-blooded, she didn't know how to dance. And the bone-breaking, well, she'd done it about three dances later when he hadn't seen her, so he wouldn't even be able to tell it was her. Some of these stuffy nobles didn't know what her abilities were, and that was enough for her, so long as James didn't somehow hear about the five broken fingers out of nowhere and realize that was within Caledonia's style and abilities.

This whole evening had been shit. Everything felt wrong, too tight, too feminine, the dress making her feel like some sort of imposter, the urge twitching within her to rip off her own skin. "Nothing. Are you okay, though, Auggie?" Worry tugged like a fishhook behind her sternum as she turned and knelt by her brother, adjusting the tie he wore from where it had been slightly askew. Neither of them liked these types of events, and Cal may have made a deal with Laughlin regarding August, but that didn’t mean she trusted him to uphold it.

August huffed out a breath of frustration and turned from their small corner of the room to watch dancers swirl past, colorful silks from womens' dresses catching the lights and glittering. “I dunno,” he mumbled finally, voice soft. “I just…I miss Mama, and there’s just a lot of people here.”

“I miss her, too,” she replied, before staring out at the dancers, an idea taking root in her head. There were a lot of people–too many–and seeing the sorrowful, anxious look in the depths of her brother’s eyes pulled at the rare heartstring inside her soul, so she held out a chocolate-smeared gloved hand. “Dance with me?”

August’s eyes widened. “You don’t like dancing.”

“Nope. But, I would love to spend time with my little brother.”

“Is this just ‘cause you can’t dance with Vali?”

Caledonia choked, his innocent question hitting like a fist of sharpened ice, and she immediately flung a hand over her mouth, converting it into a solid cough, even as her cheeks went hot, the corset of the gown suddenly constricting, each breath a struggle. "No." And yet, her green eyes darted away from her brother, latching on, for the millionth time this evening, her best…okay, fine, only…friend and crush. Lady Avaliyah Thorne twirled across the ballroom in the arms of her boyfriend, Lord Grayson, and a spark of fire stained an ugly shade of green burned in the pit of her stomach. She clenched her fists, jaw tight, and swallowed hard.

Grayson had his namesake eyes trained on Vali, whose head was thrown back in laughter. The pinch in Caledonia's stomach became tighter, sharper, and her chest hitched. Grey eyes? Really? Ugly as fuck, in her opinion, but Vali--she tried to focus on her instead of Grayson. Instead of them as a couple, but her best friend looked so breathtakingly beautiful tonight in a maroon velvet gown, her hair intricately braided and her lips shimmering with makeup, and--her fingers twitched, the need to just once brush her fingers across the delicate exposed skin at her neck, to taste her lips, almost overwhelming. She swallowed hard, almost light-headed, but it was focus on Avaliyah, or focus on Grayson, and one made her feel too gay for this damn Summer Solstice shithole at the Calico estate of all fucked-up placed, and the other--well, if she stopped Grayson's heart right now and sent him into a heart attack, would Vali leave his sorry as and come running to her instead?

Yes, but Caledonia couldn't handle comforting her friend when she knew she'd been the one to make her so upset. She could never take away Vali's happiness, even if Cal should have been her boyfriend, thank you. She sneered at Grayson's back as the two danced across the room, vanishing between swirls of silk, and she blew out a breath, heart racing, cheeks pink, and whirled around to where August was standing.

She froze. The look on his face made her want to claw his eyes out, the pity, the knowing sympathetic frown. "Stop," she coldly snapped. "August. Stop it. So can we please just dance?"

"Why can’t you tell her how you feel?" August questioned in the quiet, innocent way of children as she tried to keep her grip light, entwining their fingers as she pulled her brother onto the edge of the dance floor.

In the process, Cal almost tripped over the too-tight shoes, having to tighten her grip on August before she went sprawling in an unladylike heap on the floor. Which honestly would check out, but she didn't feel like having additional wrath come down on her head tonight in case James saw it–or the gun she had hidden in her skirts–so she managed to keep herself from the heap of fabric. "You know Father would–yell a lot," she stated, and tugged August once, straightening and then furiously scratching at her hair, the itch in it like biting lice, too much spray and products with too many pins jammed. "Plus, why the hell would I do that?"

"Because you should. She’s pretty, and you’re handsome."

Despite the unjust anger swiftly having risen to the forefront of Cal’s emotions, a small bead of warmth burst, rare and only really showing itself around her mother or brother. "She likes men, August. And–yes, okay, she’s very pretty, but–you know Father’s thoughts on…unconventional partnerships.” Her stomach twisted at her own words, sending her fingertips into ice, but she pushed it away. August did not need to know the very battle she fought every day of her life, trying to tell herself it was okay to feel this way about another woman. He did not need to know their father’s disapproval of her attraction had, unfortunately, done more than simply get her berated.

“And this is Voxthain’s high society, a cesspool of sexist, classist, homophobic assholes. You think Vali would be so accepting when she finds out her best friend wants to kiss her every time she sees her, merely thinks about her? And even if she did like me back, on some random chance..." She waved a hand at the room of people. "Again. Not happening in this shitshow of a gala, with the Calicos and Delacroixs everywhere.”

"I know, Callie. I– want you to be happy."

She shook her head, jaw clenched, tightness in her chest. Happy. Yeah. Imagine that. Still, she pulled her brother a little closer at that, even as she blew out a breath, sending the dark curls framing her face fluttering. He was innocent, anxious, and she needed to keep him safe. All she did was to keep him safe. “Thanks, Auggie,” was all she could get out as she innocently led him around the dance floor.

As they moved, however, it did not go unnoticed that August himself seemed to keep releasing her hand, tugging at his tie, or pulling at his hair. Truly, she could read the signs simply because it had been her all night–a stranger in your own skin, wearing clothes not meant for you. Same as she had wanted to rip her gown off all night, she could sense he wanted the same for his tight vest and tie. But neither of them had been given a say. Laughlin had chosen their attire for tonight, and there was nothing she could do about it that would end well. She’d learned that the last time. Honestly, why Mama and Aunt Selene both had to be out of town right now was a question Cal wanted to scream to the universe. Maybe while shooting at it with her sniper.

For a moment, they said nothing, and while August seemed to relax, muscles easing, Cal felt hot and wound up, and she couldn't take a full breath with the tightness of the dress. At fourteen, what damn rights did she have when her mother wasn't here? She eyed August’s silk shirt and a simple velvet vest with a few hints of gold thread. Good fuck, why couldn’t she wear that?

"You know I want you to be happy, too," she added, looking down at her little brother and pressing a kiss to the ten-year-old’s head.

He looked up, brown eyes so dark and sorrowful it twisted something inside her, a sharp shard of glass stabbing her through the ribs and into her heat. She tugged August to the side and knelt by him. “What is it, kiddo?”

“Really too many people.”

“Yeah. Hey, back to the corner?”

“Mm-hm.”

Cal gently took his hand in hers, grateful to have an excuse to get off the dance floor, and helped August back to the bench. The dress seemed to weigh her down, and with the foolish waltz music played by overgrown pompous artists, she felt like a bump in the middle of a smooth street.

Still, even as she led August back over, she found her eyes scanning the room for Vali.
Ahh–there. Across the room, seated against a wall now. Alone. She sucked in a breath, and as soon as August was seated and safe with some fruit and small sandwiches, Cal hurried through the crowd, cursing her stupid dress as she almost tripped over it five times. But before she could get to Avaliyah, someone beelined into her line of vision, and heart almost stopped, stomach sinking. “What do you want?” She demanded flatly.

With a smirk of her perfect lips, Lady Alianna Calico’s cold blue gaze travelled up and down Caledonia’s body. “You know, I would ordinarily say you finally cleaned up for this gala, but what the fuck did you do to the dress?”

“Chocolate.”

Something flashed in her eyes, and the woman’s small, freckled nose twitched, wrinkling in disgust. “The slovenly manners of the people never leave one, do they? Clearly, you can put a dog into a ballgown but you can't take away the dog’s animal instincts.”

A dark flush crawled up her neck and into her cheeks and ears, alongside the blur of red hazing her vision, the tightness in her chest, the rage in the pit of her stomach. She didn’t know what was more prominent—the anger or the humiliation as Tamrion Seavey and Veralyn Devoe, standing behind Alianna as always, began to chitter and snicker. Her blush deepened, hands curling into tight fists, as her breaths began to heave.

Dog. Animal instincts–fucking bitch. In a blur, the tightness in her muscles, the urge to do something, to wipe that smirk off Alianna’s perfect face, carried through. Cal’s hand hit its target, the satisfying crunch beneath her skin followed by Alianna sprawled on the ground, practically screaming, her delicately gloved hand to her cheek. The sound of a slap rang in Caledonia’s ears as Veralyn screamed like she was being stabbed. The pathetic, lousy, catty idiot! She looked up at her. “Fuck off, of you vain, spineless fool,” she snapped, then turned and snatched Seavey’s wrist from where he had been about to hit her back.

“Seavey,” she growled, and tightened her grip. The well of magic pulsed in her chest, and she let it emerge from her hands, her vibrations dancing up and down the kid’s arm, rattling his bones against his muscles. “I suggest you get the fuck out of here before I break your arm. Last time we fought–I don’t remember that ending well for you.”

“You wouldn’t do that in the middle of a gala, Hayden.”

“I would.” She nodded down at Alianna, as if to prove her point, and then, ever so slightly, found the delicate veins of Tamrion’s wrist. Without hesitation, she dug the nail of her thumb into the spot, eliciting a squawk of pain from his lips and a small burst of blood across his skin. Wrinkling her nose, she pushed him aside, sending him staggering into Veralyn, before she leaned over Alianna, hate mingling between her brain and her heart.

It had felt good to knock her arrogant ass down, make her fall into a pile of her red silk gown, and get her tiara–because of fucking course she was wearing a tiara–clattered on the floor and her pretty blonde curls in a tangle. “You’re right,” she stated in a cold, quiet whisper, and Alianna actually flinched away from her, eyes widening. A sick, twisted spiral of satisfaction lurched upwards, replacing some of the humiliation. A smirk teased up one side of Cal’s lips.

“You can’t take the dog’s animal instincts away. To attack. To defend. So this is your warning, Calico. I’m not some doormat you can step on. And what are you gonna do, cry to daddy like you always do? Go on, tell him,” she taunted, knowing somewhere, deep inside, she was acting too much like the authoritarian asshole in her own life, but she couldn’t stop her rage, in how humiliated and low Alianna’s words had made her feel, atop all the leery looks she’d been given all night, the noblemen’s eyes looking at her, their hands searching when she had been forced—threatened by her father—to dance with them, or else. She was at a breaking point, with that and what with seeing Avaliyah—her Avaliyah--dance with that idiot man she called a boyfriend. “Crawl to him like the pathetic little worm you are. He’ll believe you. But if you do, just know it won’t look good for you. Calico's precious heir, too weak to defend herself from a commoner? I’m sure that will go over well.”

Alianna was now staring at her, brows furrowed and blue eyes like shards of frozen ice. “How dare you?” She almost screeched, and tried to get up, but Caledonia watched as she accidentally stepped on the end of her gown and went sliding back to the floor again. The brat screeched as her butt hit the ground. Cal hid a bout of laughter behind her hand in a cough, then crossed her arms and stood back to watch.

Alianna snarled up at her. “Help me up, street trash.”

Heat flared in Caledonia’s cheeks, and she lifted her chin before spitting at Alianna’s feet.

“You bitch!” The howl tore through Alianna’s throat, but she didn’t start throwing a huge fit. Even Alianna and Tamrion clearly knew–while sober for Tam, anyway–that starting a huge scene in the middle of a Calico Summer Solstice gala was a bad idea.

“Sorry. I've never been very good at following orders.”

“I will tell Papa. And he will tell your father.”

Cal paused, even as a cold chill erupted along the back of her spine, her mouth so dry she suddenly felt the need to grab the closest glass of water. It took a second, but the words were finally processed. “Right. And risk severing your father’s already shit relationship with my mother even more?”

Scarlet flared across Alianna’s freckled face.

“And, are you really going to tell him, Alianna?” She stared down at the disheveled noble, and Alianna swallowed hard, bravado and indignation slowly slipping off her face as the red gave way to pale, except the pink mark where Caledonia had struck her. “Because tell me, who is that lord you follow around and sigh dreamily around every gala, at every event in Cogworks? Loren—“

Alianna stiffened, her cheeks flushing, this time, Cal was certain, in embarrassment. “How—no—you—“

“You follow him around like a puppy, you flirt with him. I’ve seen you.” She shrugged, inwardly cursing the fabric of her gown, prickling against her sides and stomach and making her skin itch. “But he’s already dating someone, we both know it. More than that, though, didn’t daddy dearest kind of forbid you from courting anyone until you’re fifteen? If he knew you liked Lord Matthews that much, and flirted as a little thirteen-year-old you are…"

“Okay, stop it!” Alianna whined suddenly, and stamped her foot under her gown, the movement of her knee causing her fabric to shift, the glistening gold dusted across the red rippling and reminding Caledonia of a lava burst. In all honesty, the dress was lovely—for a rich brat who liked to wear dresses, anyway.

“Real mature, oh esteemed heiress.”

“Fuck. You,” Alianna seethed. Her chest heaved as she gripped the ends of her skirt and lifted them, stepping closer, and Cal almost chuckled at the way Alianna had to look up to glare into her eyes; only a year younger than her and Alianna seemed three years shorter. Though, Cal knew really, she was just tall. “You win. Are you happy, you stray? I won’t tell Papa about you, and you won’t tell him about Matthews.”

Cal shrugged as if she didn’t care. But she did, and truly, from Vera’s screeching, she would not be shocked if Laughlin saw the whole ordeal, pretending to ignore it until they were back home tonight. Then, he’d take her aside, and she’d pay hell for this. Just like she knew as soon as Cogworks started up again for the fall, Tamrion would come after her. The leverage she had against Alianna was real, however; she had known the girl’s secret for awhile now—she was horrible at keeping herself together when it came to people she liked. Alianna was flustered, and Caledonia, observant, knew Alianna liked him, had watched her flirt at school. Eadric would not be happy if he knew, and it seemed Alianna very well knew this was one thing that, if presented to her father, she couldn’t act away like she usually did.

Alianna’s blue eyes turned to an icy fire, and she stormed past Cal, heels loud on the marble floor. Cal watched her go, smirking, arms crossed over her chest, as Vera followed at her heels. Tamrion, however, had a dark look swirling in the depths of his eyes, and he slipped a middle finger in her direction as he stormed off. Cal simply held hers up in response, before calling after them, "By the way, Alianna, super pathetic of you. Flirting with a guy who has a girlfriend. Get a life.”

At this, Alianna froze and whirled back around. A brief hint of red-gold flickered on her palms followed by smoke curling into the air. All of Caledonia’s bravado slipped away and she almost choked, stumbling backwards on instinct to get away from the flames sparking and sputtering around the girls’s slim fingers.

Alianna smirked, but it vanished, and Cal gaped, heart racing as she tried to steady her breathing. Her hands balled into fists seconds before the blonde responded.

“Shut up. Bold coming from you, anyway, the girl-kissing peasant shit who can’t keep her eyes off her taken crush all evening.”

The words sucker-punched her in the stomach, and by the time Cal had half a mind to say anything snappy back, Alianna was gone, vanishing through the crowd with Veralyn and Tamrion. Hot air rushed past Caledonia’s head as she stumbled, almost tripping over the cursed dress and her pinching heels. Her heart pounded in her ears, tendrils of fear laced through her ribcage as she stared, trying to breathe and find the girl. She knew. She knew Cal was hung up on Lady Thorne. Fuck. Shit shit shit. So Alianna wasn’t the only one horrible at hiding her crushy feelings for someone. Well, fine, Cal had known she wasn’t the best at it, anyway, because that was how Alianna and Tam had ended up attacking her last year. But since then she’d worked to school all emotions more, including when she was head over heels for a pretty girl. But when it was Avaliyah, her best friend, as she fell harder than she ever had, well….fuck. She may be able to hide her feelings well enough around her, but from afar, Cal had figured she was safe. Watching Vali jealously from across the room, for example. But apparently, Alianna was onto her. Her victory over the blonde was now deflated, a balloon popped. If Alianna told her father—she cut the thought off. She had to hope she didn’t. Because if she did, Cal would tell Eadric about Alianna and Loren, which, she figured, Alianna didn’t want. Shaking, she let out a breath, swallowing hard, throat too dry.

Pushing off the pillar, trying to erase the memory of heat singing her skin, she whirled, the heavy dress suffocating her legs, and stormed over to where Avaliyah still sat, hidden in a corner and re-braiding some of her hair with anxious hands.

Anxious?

A knot formed in the pit of Cal’s stomach, and she ran over, sitting down next to her friend, making sure to keep a healthy foot of space between them on the soft bench. Over here, the sounds of the gala were a bit muted, but she could still see people whirl past, laughing loudly, signs they'd indulged a tad too much. She wrinkled her nose, sighed, and faced her friend, who had looked up at her and smiled.

Caledonia’s breath caught in her throat, and for a moment, chest squeezing, she could only stare. A ray of beautiful sunshine. Glittering dark eyes, her beautiful lips, and—

“You look beautiful tonight.”

Great. Just great.

Vali paused, then grinned wider and looked down at her dress, the magenta and gold working so well with her dark skin it was like she was made to wear it. And which only made Cal all the more driven insane by a desire to kiss her and never stop staring at the beauty that was Avaliyah. “Thank you! It’s one of my favorites. I've been wanting to wear it for some time now. Figured a fancy gala was a perfect time.”

“It is. Perfect. I-I mean, a perfect time,” Cal agreed, much too quickly, and then ducked her head before Vali could see her cheeks flaming. She swallowed hard, mentally kicked herself, and then looked up. “So. Um. Where’s your boyfriend?”

“Oh.” She seemed to wilt, and one side of her lips tugged into a frown. “I dunno. He…he said he wanted to say hi to someone, some friend. Grayson was here, then said he'd come back. He hasn’t.”

And this is someone you like? Cal narrowed her eyes, a heat burning in her stomach that was not her desire for Vali. “Asshole. You deserve better.”

“Cal! He’s not an asshole.” A brief flash of frustration crossed her face. “I know you think he’s not good for me, but he makes me happy.”

Green glazed across Caledonia’s eyes, prickling in her gut, rearing ugly head and sharp teeth as she gritted her own and looked away. I could make you happy. I wouldn’t abandon you. “Okay, fine, I just worry about you,” was all she eked out, forcing herself to breathe, though it was also hard with this horrible dress squeezing the damn life out of her lungs. “But you also looked worried,” she added, trying to focus on Avaliyah.

Her friend shook her head. “Just—deep in thought.”

“About what?”

Vali opened her mouth, then closed it again. Swallowed hard, and, to Cal’s surprise, averted her gaze. “It’s…nothing. Cal, can we not talk about it right now?”

“Wh–” Jerking back, Cal stared at her, blinking once, stomach sinking, feeling as if Vali had struck her across the face. Cal was the one who had no idea how to handle her own emotions, built defenses up to shove people aside, knowing they did more harm than good. But Vali, she was so pure, so good, and so open. Why was she hiding? Still, much as it left her unsteady, she knew she had to respect this. “I, um, sure, but—I’m worried about you, just—I’m here if you—

Avaliyah reached over and grabbed her hand, and all of Caledonia’s words froze like crusted ice on her tongue, her insides the opposite, warm, while the contact hummed a spark of electricity from her fingers to her shoulder. Her heart rate quickened. But she had to remind herself it was nothing. Vali liked to hold hands with friends. This meant nothing, they’d been like sisters once, and in a way, Vali was her closest friend. One of her only friends. And yet, to Cal, it meant everything. “I know you’re here for me, You always have been. I just need a little time to think before I…talk to anyone.”

“Okay. I…sorry.”

“Nothing to be sorry for. But can I ask? What happened to your dress?”

Caledonia huffed, trying to act normal when Vali’s hand was burning a hole in her skin despite her gloves. “Chocolate. Man-deterrent. Middle finger to Voxthain’s nobles Take your pick.”

Vali giggled, and Caledonia’s chest warmed. “I like it. And, um. Well.” Her hand tightened on hers, and again, Vali averted her gaze, and Caledonia frowned. Why? Vali had a lot of anxiety, but not about her. “I just…you look nice tonight, too. But. I know you hate it, so that’s why I feel bad saying it, but you do. You look nicer in your shirts and pants, though. More you.”

Caledonia had gone still. Well, except her blood humming and ears ringing. “What?” She rasped hoarsely.

Vali quickly ripped her hand away and stood up. “No. Nothing. Just—I’m sorry. That your father made you wear that monstrosity. I just mean the green brings your eyes out and if you’re worried about fitting in, you look the part. Which I also know you dislike. But—“

“Vali.” Cal stood up, her brain short-circuiting. Something constricted in her throat as her pulse roared, crashing like waves against a rock in her skull. “Are you okay? I—thanks, but…you don’t have to compliment me just because I complimented you.”

Avaliyah paused. “Yes. I guess you’re right, just—I’m fine. Ugh. Greyson’s absence has me all frazzled and insecure, I guess.”

More hatred for the man seethed through her veins, turning her chest tight with emerald and burning heat, and her lips tugged into a deeper frown. “Well, as I said, he’s a dumbass. He should never have just left you here. Going back on his word.”
Go
Vali’s gold headdress glimmered, flecks of sun in the dim lighting. Goddess. “It’s…“

“I’ll talk to him. Nobody offends my best friend.”

A smile hedged up onto Vali’s face. “Cal. Your version of talking to him is probably threatening him and breaking a finger for good measure.”

Cal planted her hands on her hips. “Yes.”

“You really are like a knight of old earth, aren't you? Protective.”

I want to be your knight. “I try,” she stated in a strangled voice, but that smile. She wanted those lips against hers, just once, she pleaded internally. Just. Once. Please.

Yet, Avaliyah’s smile slipped. “I should go find him.”

“Can I come?”

“Just—I want to try and soak with him myself first, if that’s okay.”

“Uh-huh. Sure.” But Caledonia really, really wanted to punch him. And steal his girl.

“See you later. You okay, by the way?”

Caledonia swallowed hard. Tucked her hands behind her back to curl them into fists without her seeing. “Yeah, just—flustered after a brush up with my favorite noble jerk squad. Which…Father probably saw.”

Avaliyah’s eyes darkened, her brows drawing together as she stepped closer. “Well, we can talk after I find Greyson? Or…or if you need to, we can talk now–”

For so long, Cal’s smiles had been false, hiding so much seething hatred and pain she dealt with every day of her life. Usually, a real one eked out around Vali, but even now, when she grinned, she knew the truth: tight and fake. “Sure. No, it’s fine.” Because she didn’t come first anymore. It smarted. Not that she ever talked, opened up, much, but Avaliyah was at least the one she opened up with most of all. Even she knew the truth of James, something August and Mama did not. Never could, really.

“Thanks.” And with that, Vali darted away, skirt moving around her ankles and legs effortlessly. A princess. Caledonia sighed, dropped back on the bench, and leaned over, almost vomiting, pain lancing through her abdomen. The chocolates had been too much on her stomach—too rich, and she always underrate, or ate just enough. Unlike many nobles, she never stuffed herself, both because she hated the fact they could feed so many hungry people with the food they had, and because of her own trauma when she was a child. Cal had never had enough food until she was five years old. She had never recovered from it in a sense, never eating a lot even now. But atop of the chocolates, the whole night was a shitshow, and her eyes burned from what had just happened. Avaliyah was clueless. Absolutely clueless. (Which, she totally wasn’t, but Cal was a clueless lesbian, so of course she didn’t realize Vali liked her back but was struggling with her own realization she wasn’t straight, and that her boyfriend was kinda a jerk), Alianna was a bitch. High society could go fuck itself. Her father could too. She—

“Well that didn’t go well.” August plopped down next to her.

“You saw?” She gritted. Sweat stained her brow.

“Whole thing. I’m sorry.”

“It’s fine,” she snapped. “This is why I was telling you, Auggie, I cannot just…tell her how I feel.”

August nodded once, but Cal barely saw him. The pain in her stomach was almost overwhelming, and she gritted her teeth as her brother chewed on his lip.

He paused. “Callie, are you gonna throw up? Please don’t–”

“Fuck.” She managed to reach out one hand, and the nearest plant in a pot by a wall moved, the well of magic in her chest pulsing and warm. The leaves seemed to dance over, dragging the pot by extension. It wobbled and almost tipped, but she managed to make sure it didn't.


She vomited right into the pot the second it was under her, stomach heaving.

Great. This evening had been just fucking great.

   
   
❝   𝓒𝓪𝓵𝓮𝓭𝓸𝓷𝓲𝓪 "𝓒𝓪𝓵" 𝓗𝓪𝔂𝓭𝓮𝓷   ❞    
   

TW: violence, abuse
Age: 8
August: 6
Old Laughlin Estate

The cloying scent of dirty dishes mixed with sweat stung the back of Cal’s nostrils, carrying into her throat, as she walked down the hallway, nerves firing in the pit of her stomach. Broken only by the occasional rumblings of hunger, her mouth went dry as she halted by a large, ornate door set into the hallway.

Still, she needed a bath, a warm shower–if she could get one–after this. Though first sneaking into the kitchen and snatching up bread and cheese would be the best option, or really, any small scraps she could get her hands on. It had to have been hours since her meager lunch, and her stomach was tearing itself apart.

Her dark hair hung limp in a low ponytail, sweat sticking loose strands to her face and temples as if she had run a mile in blistering heat.

If only. Cleaning grates of the bathroom floor, washing the dishes her father and his brother had used at supper, and sweeping and polishing the entire dining room tended to have the same impact, but with chipped, bloody fingers instead of feet. Despite having been working on her stamina with Mama and Aunt Selene in training exercises, cleaning an estate endlessly left an unpleasant ache in her bones. Training, on the other hand, had her cheeks pink and a spark in her eyes, even as it hurt to move at times.

Cal pushed the loose strands of hair back, took a breath, and knocked on the door. Father had said not to bother him, and she knew that, but he’d also said to make sure he knew when she had finished. Last time she’d gone to bed without telling him, he’d hit her and taken a meal away, and that was the very last thing she wanted to happen again. Food, while Cal didn’t eat much, still gave her the energy she needed to not feel as if her head had begun to swim.
Hands shaking, she now clasped them behind her, trying to steel herself. Nothing, no sound, came from the study beyond, and she risked one more knock before a slam echoed from behind it. An involuntary flinch rolled through her, and she exhaled, muscles tight, as the door flung open. Shit.

“What the fuck are you doing here?” Father demanded, and Cal swallowed past a lump in her throat.

“I-you said to tell you I finished,” she managed to garble, even as her heart beat rapidly against her ribs. Each breath seemed to stick, words trembling as she forced them out. “I just thought—”

“Then make it fucking fast,” James spat, a sneer twisting his lips. Reaching out, his fingers parted, and Cal flinched back seconds before he grasped her shoulder and pulled her inside the office.

A sweet smell, slightly tangy, assaulted her nose, and she swallowed hard, internally scoffing at the half-empty glass of whiskey by the recliner he had been lounging in. Another empty one sat next to it, and Cal’s stomach lurched at the cigarette still smoking in an ash tray. Smoke lingered in the room, adding a dusty hue to the dark mustard yellow and crimson carpets, stained with swirls of royal blue. Honestly, who had even thought that rug was in the least bit attractive? It did nothing for the Laughlin house colors of bronze and dark brown. Like an aged, cracked mud, a blend of puke and vomit, something smelling of darkness, musty and old. Honestly, her uncle was a shit interior decorator, as far as Cal and her childlike senses could see it. Fuck him. And fuck Father.

“You finished everything?” He demanded, releasing her.

“Yes.”

“Caledonia.”

Screw you. Her jaw tightened, something hot boiling in the pit of her stomach and surging into her cheeks. Raising her chin, her own stench of sweat and filth almost turning her stomach, she gritted her teeth and locked eyes with him.

“Yes sir.”

“The grates? The dishes? The floors? The dining room?”

An icy trickle ran cold through her fingers. “Th-the floors, my lord? You mean the grates—”

“I asked you to wash and sweep the hallway floor.”

No you fucking didn’t. Still, Caledonia began to backpedal, frantic, mentally searching through each and every demand he’d given her. She’d learned to work with her head down, do exactly what he said, write down each of his orders and tasks, her face and back taking the full brunt of forgetting.

He’d said polish and sweep the dining room. Dishes. Scrape and clean the bathroom grates. Each task had taken her hours, muscles aching to the point of her now being unable to even step on her left foot without pain, a knot having formed in her hip. Nothing about the floors of a hallway had been directed.

“My lord. I—I don’t—I don’t think— ”

Crack! Teeth rattled inside her skull as a sharp flare of pain erupted across her cheek, neck smarting as her head whipped to the side. “You fool, I told you not to interrupt me and I told you to complete your tasks. You have failed me twice in one night.”

Cal’s chest tightened, her fingers curling into fists. “You never said—”

She stumbled back, knees going weak, when he grabbed his glass of whiskey in one hand, knuckles turning white while his face blossomed red. “And I said not to back talk to me, street trash. Do you want me to throw you out there again? Do you realize what good I’ve done for you? With a roof and food and clothing? You are nothing, you were born into filth, it runs through your veins. No amount of fancy attire can change that, and I am the only one who can remind you, teach you the truth your fake mother thinks she can get out of your head. You have been lucky, you piece of gutter shit, to even have an education and a roof. You owe us. If your mother saw you disobeying me—”

Shame flushed inside her, prickling, even as heat flushed her cheeks. Gutter shit. Street trash. He wasn’t wrong. Living in an orphanage for a few years had been so close to that, stealing off the streets to fill her belly when the matron had cared more about her wines and fine jewelry, her own hide, than keeping the children under her care fed and warm. Being born in what she knew was a slummy, downtrodden area of Fareun, in a falling-down hut…she was, indeed, skin to gutter shit, yet his words hurt despite being the truth. She would have died, either from that fire, or the shadowfog, or by starvation or the cold, if it hadn’t been for Mama. She did owe her, and Father. He had given her a roof, and he could have turned her out, he could still throw her back out just like the lady whose name she didn’t remember anymore had threatened. Her stomach seized, lips parting as terror iced through her veins.

Stomach aching. Carving with hunger she’d never be able to sate. Limbs shaking from weakness only food and a solid bed would allow. Losing Mama. Her kindness and warmth and—

But she had said nobody deserved to treat her the way that woman had and that woman was almost just like Father, leaving bruises on her cheeks, not letting her eat what she needed to, keeping her in a cold, drafty, small room to sleep in, but did she deserve that? Really, she was a peasant. She was useless, worthless, a commoner adopted into a world she so clearly did not fit in with. Mama had to have been taking her on as, what, a charity case? Probably didn’t even love her, but…she seemed to, and it left Cal wary, had her unsure about the woman even now sometimes. And yet, her hugs, always so warm. Her blue eyes, so soft, drawing her in, begging her to trust her, so open. Her smiles like warmth, igniting a fuzzy feeling she didn’t know what to call other than love. Losing her…it left her chilled to the bone. Even as a part of her had gone hot and tight, red blazing in her, at Father’s insults. It didn’t make sense to her brain–why part of her knew the shame of her birth and part of her wanted to be the one to slap James instead. But at the end of the day, she needed Mama. Selfishly.

“I’m sorry. I know, sir. I just—I didn’t hear—”

“That’s still back talking!” The roar erupted from James’s throat seconds before his hand raised, and a terrified scream burst from her lips seconds before something hurtled through the air and hit her. Cold liquid splashed across her face as shards of broken, jagged glass hit her square in the head and hands from where she had them raised, leaving cuts across her fingers.

Shock and horror erupted as Cal stared, rivulets of dark blood and amber whisky dripping down her clothing, splattered across her neck, chin, hair, and face. Shards of sharp, glistening glass stuck painfully into her skin, dug into her cheeks and hair.

Her heart hammered, a drum against her ribs, as hate and anger swirled into the depths of her being, her vision scarlet between the emotion choking her chest and the blood dripping into her eyes, stinging them raw.

Cal’s nose stung, a tight well trembling in her chest, begging to be released, and only with shaking hands did she slowly bring them to her face, touch her eyes, then her head, which throbbed as if it had been split with a scalpel, shards of metal slicing into her head. Her hands came away crimson, and her stomach almost lurched, the room spinning. Quickly, Cal fisted her hands and looked up, only to cry out when her eyes moved.

Glass stuck in her lids, and her knees went weak as the tears burned. But she couldn’t cry. She couldn’t. Cry. Barely able to open her eyes, she missed it when James lunged; all she knew was something smacked her behind the knees, hard and sharp, and she hit the ground, crying out when glass shards cut into her kneecaps and shins.

“Clean it up,” James spat.

Horror lurched; she could hardly see between the blood in her eyes, could hardly open them with small shards of glass on her eyelids. Everything around her had become a blurred shape–the glass sparkled, and the whiskey remained cold and soaking against her legs, but something long lay next to her as her knees smarted. Slowly, she processed between the request to clean and knowing he’d hit her legs with something, that the object had to be a broom. “My lord. I can’t—I can’t see—”

“Clean. It. Up.” He hit her, square across the jaw, and Cal’s body trembled as she fell, toppled like a brick onto the broken glass. The wooden handle of the broom cut into her hip as a large piece of broken glass stabbed into her stomach, and a pained cry of agony ripped from her. On instinct, she rolled onto her back, hands shaking as she blearily grasped the offending piece and ripped it from her belly. A fresh showering of blood arched through the air, and she closed her eyes fully, a well of darkness, of helplessness and terror, thickened inside her chest.

“Please, I-I–fuck. Fuck.” It dug into her back, too, but she couldn’t move. Exhaustion plagued her, sending her aching muscles into a sort of limbo where she could hardly move them, as if they’d been weighed down by chains, or turned to some sort of liquid consistency.

Stop, stop, it hurts, please stop. Mama, come home. Please come home. She reached her trembling hands to her eyelids, and, holding in cry after cry, meticulously picked out each piece of glass until, finally, she could open her eyes without shards digging into them. Nevertheless, blood still slipped into her eyes from she had deduced was a horrific gash in her head.

Cal’s insides twisted, and her lips trembled as fear stole the breath from her lungs. Am I going to die? Am I– “Please, please let a healer…it hurts–Father, please–"

“If you don’t clean it up and stop your begging like the rat you are, I will personally go down the hall and—”

“No. Stop. Please. Don’t hurt him.” The beg slipped from Cal’s throat before she could think, struggling to push her aching body into a sitting position again. His ugly rug blurred, mixing into the cream-colored walls and cedar bookshelves and desk. Lights flickered and glowed around the edges, undulating and fuzzy, and her breath hitched as she closed her eyes again, trying to rush the blood away from them. But it kept coming, and the iron tang from how much was quickly spilling from her head left nausea lurching in her gut.

“Do you want me to beat your brother, Caledonia?”

“No. No.” Not Auggie, not Auggie– It hit her like a punch to the gut, and she gaped. If she believed that she was worthless, wouldn’t that make her sweet baby brother? That had her enraged. Like her, August had been abandoned by the people who gave birth to him, even though his mother had seemed to love him, unlike Caledonia’s father. But she struggled, even as the child she was, to understand why someone would be worth less because their parents did not stick around, or because they were not born to the upper echelons of society. It made her mind break as she would sit up at night trying to puzzle it out, her classmates’ jeers–Alianna, Tamrion, Veralyn–ringing in her mind. Her father’s insults. The dirty looks others gave her, even that Europa bitch. Fucking loser wasn’t even from Voxthain and had the audacity to pretend she was a noble.

Whatever. But this had to be proof she wasn’t worthless, but why–why did everyone hate her, want her to hate herself, why did–no. She couldn’t dwell on this now, couldn’t think it through, because all that mattered was keeping James away from August, sleeping peacefully in his bed down the hall.

“Then clean it up. This is your last warning.”

“May I just–please. My head hurts–”

The kick to her stomach left her heaving, sprawled on the ground once more as tears burned, nose stinging as her chest went tight. Ice and stone, ice and stone, you feel nothing, you are nothing– Wheezing, Caledonia curled into a ball, trembling as she wrapped both arms around herself. Something roared in her ears as the ground under her roiled.

He wasn’t going to ask again, August was in trouble, and she had to keep him away from her brother, had to–blood ran down her forehead, sticking her dark hair together in clumps to her temples and cheeks, while it dripped down her face and neck, a river of scarlet dancing against her pale skin.

Fighting for breath, her stomach aching with each movement, her hips sore and calloused hands smarting, she pushed up to her hands and knees. The ugly-ass office swayed, and she closed her eyes to keep from throwing up more of her small lunch. Hands shaking, Cal grasped for the broom’s handle, smearing her blood across it, and used it to push herself to her feet.

Every step sent pain arching up her leg, exhaustion still pressing in with fangs dug into her skin. His hazel eyes bored into her, and oh, how small he made her feel, like an insect under his boot, allowed to be smashed to pieces, because her life didn’t matter.

Glass stabbed into her hands after she swept it into one pile, taking it and putting it in a nearby trash can. Whiskey stains botched the carpet, and she covered them with the only thing she could–the apron she had on over her ragged shirt. Placing it down, she warily stepped on it, numbly watching more blood drip down and stain the grey fabric.

Time lost all meaning as she was forced to wait until the whiskey had soaked up, then spray the rug, and then wait for it to dry again. Her mouth had gone so dry, tongue feeling so big; more than anything, her fingers twitched for a glass of water, just one, her stomach growling for food. The gash in her head kept bleeding, though, and with each passing second, Caledonia felt her knees get shakier, the room blur harder together. But if she stopped, August would be on the floor in pain, and like hell would she allow that.

“Sir, I-I finished.” Please, let me go to sleep. Let me eat– But if she slept, if she allowed herself to lay down, would she fall unconscious, die in her sleep? Cal’s heart rate picked up again, and her lips parted, a tingling sensation sweeping through her for the third time in the past…however long, she could not tell. “Please, please may I–I have a doctor–”

“No. You have made an utter fucking mess of my office, wrecked my evening, and didn’t even do what I commanded of you. You will be further punished for this. You do not deserve medical help when I was forced to take the necessary actions for you to listen to me, Caledonia.”

Rage filled every inch of her being, igniting in a line of fire down her spine, in her veins. Nothing was okay, everything was wrong, this was wrong. “No. No. I didn’t–I can’t–I deserve–”

“You deserve nothing.” James’ face remained contorted, a muscle in his cheek jumping as he grasped her arm, fingers going so tight it sent a nerve pinch spiraling down to her wrist. He yanked, and Cal cried out, almost tripping over her feet as he began to drag her towards the door.

“You–stop! Please, Father, please–”

“Fuck off and shut the hell up! I’ve had it from you, you ungrateful, clumsy, worthless excuse of a human being.”

His words cut like each shard of broken glass, still embedded in the soft palms of her hands and in her head, laced in her hair like macabre stars on a dark night. The dam she had been holding up since this started broke as he dragged her out of the office and down a hallway. Heavy curtains of that sickening, shit-color bronze and brown hung pulled over frosted windows, the cold air from outside sending goosebumps raising along her bare arms.

The chill crept beneath her thin clothes, and Cal shuddered, the hallway and its oil paintings and dim lighting throwing dark shadows elongated across the floor. A stone sat in the pit of her stomach, alongside the occasional bouts of nausea, the urge to collapse to the floor. Still, she dug her heels into the hardwood as he dragged her, so hard pain raced up her arm into her shoulder.

Her begs, pleads, demands her stop yanking her fell on deaf ears, his own bloodshot, steely eyes turning to glare at her, cut her to millions of ribbons as if each fucking insult hadn’t before. But they had, and it left her breathless, and confused, and didn’t know what she had ever done to make him hate her like this. What had she done that had her birth father throwing her out with the trash? What had she done to make Laughlin hate her? To make the orphanage matron hate her?

So it was her, wasn’t it?

Yet, Mama said nobody should treat her this way. But what if she was lying, what if she was just a charity case, what if–

“You’ll be spending the night here.”

Cal gaped, blinking, her gaze unsteady as she found he had finally halted, albeit the grip on her arm remained iron, his fingers so tightly pressed into her muscle it had her fingers tingling. Bruises, Cal knew, would form on her flesh by morning. Behind the wavering gaze, her eyes fell on a dark door at the end of the hall.

Her stomach sank. The coat closet. “No, please. Please.” Darkness, swallowing her hole, as he had done before, the space so tight and small and filled to the brim with hangars and coats. The air heady, thick and musty, darkness choking in until she felt she couldn’t breathe. Like the shadows that had chased her from the only other city she had ever known.

“Worthless common-born-bitch,” James spat. He waved his free hand, and the lock clicked, followed by the door swinging open. With a sneer, his fingers tightened around her upper arm a mere second before she threw her, as hard as he possibly could, inside. “I’ll get you in the morning. You’d better have learned your lesson, or it’s your brother next time.” A smirk curled across his face as Cal hit the back wall, crying out in pain as hangars crashed around her head. Her spine cracked against something hard, leaving her winded for a moment before she processed the door closing, locking her in.

Fear turned her feet to lead, her breaths getting shallower as the lock slid back into place, an eerie click of finality. “Let me out!” Cal scrambled forward, scraping her already-cut-up knees on the edges of hangars, on edges of storage boxes. The darkness seemed to laugh, the walls of the already-small space getting tinier and tinier.

Bloodied fists slammed at the door as she choked for air. The scent clogged in her nostrils, dripping, acidic and strong, down her face, into her mouth, as everything spun. “Please. I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I know. I’m worthless, I-I know, please–” The blood won’t stop I’m going to die I’m going to die–I’m hungry, please…Mama– But how dare he, how dare he do this to her, all she fucking wanted was a loving family, it was all she had ever wanted, and really, it had to be her, something had to be wrong with her, and he pointed it out, hadn’t he? But why–

She broke. The stone wall cracked, just a bit, but it felt like the very heavens had split open inside her. All the pounding at the door, scraping at the edges with her fingernails, desperate as a mouse to escape its captivity, was in vain as she collapsed back into a small ball, sobbing. Cal swayed, bile stinging her throat, blood and pieces of sharp glass still stuck cruelly into her skin.

How could someone do this to their own daughter? Except she knew he hated her, never saw her as his child, and maybe he was right to, but he was letting her starve, pass out, die–die–die–darkness tickled her ear as her breaths became shallower, her fingers slipped into her bloody hair as she tried to stop the bleeding, the gash, ripping her own shirt to press to her wound.

Anger, fear, being set adrift, a welling sorrow as deep as the blackness around her…what the hell had she done? Had been craving a loving family been too much to ask for? And if she was truly worthless, why did it leave her so fucking angry whenever he said anything to her, rankling like a cheese grater against her very heart?

Love, please, couldn’t he just...stop hurting her? Love her? All she craved was for once in her young life to not feel cast aside, looked at as if she had brought a disease to everyone. Was to be wanted and cared for. But street rats didn’t get that. Orphans from foreign countries didn’t get that. But Mama and Aunt Selene– She didn’t know. Couldn’t think.

All she knew was she was going to die here, dizzy and weak, bleeding out, stomach in pain and flesh threaded with glass, head throbbing, aching, throat raw from crying. Caledonia curled into a ball, because if she was in a ball the darkness couldn’t get her or eat her feet, Father couldn’t kick her in the face, hit her with brooms.

She didn’t know how long she was in that closet, her stomach tearing itself apart with hunger, her head throbbing like an anvil as her cheek and lips rested in a puddle of blood and glass. All she knew were the bunched-up cloths covered in her own blood when she was finally dragged out of the closet. All she knew was a pile of red glass she had picked out of her flesh. All she knew was the terror, her eyes red and bloodshot, dark circles painted beneath on her pale skin. Unwashed, filthy hair, skin streaked with red. And a deep-seated hatred and rage, hurt and sorrow, and icy terror, that had, by morning, turned into numbness.