Chapter Text
(the first scene is a flashback. Here, Illumi is 18 and Psyche is 16.)
It was their last night staying with the Zoldycks. Possibly forever.
They were supposed to leave in the morning, but urgent news came up. Obviously that was a lie, but the Zoldycks didn’t need to know that. Madame Moiraio mustered her most tragical, regretful face, feigning sadness and remorse that they couldn’t stay longer. Kiyko and Silva returned her sorrowful sympathies, but perhaps deep down they knew the ruse too and acted out the role expected of them as hospitable hosts should when guests leave prematurely. Perhaps they were glad---relieved---of their fleeing into the night.
Only cowards flee in the dark. Only people who have something to be ashamed of run away in the dead of night. Psyche thought and wished their stay hadn’t twisted into the disaster it inevitably became.
She reasoned she would never show her face to any of them again. Especially Illumi. After what happened...god...she didn’t blame Illumi if he hated her. Even Psyche hated herself for what had happened.
While the Zoldyck butlers helped the Moiraio maids pack their belongings into their car like convicts hell bent on escaping the country, Psyche was suggested to change into a sweatsuit to wear on their way back to the estate. ‘Suggest’ was not a question. It was grey and dull and hideously ugly. Perhaps that was why they made her wear it. Her dirty and torn dress made her look like a convict. Her face blared red as she trudged to her family’s car, readying for their departure. She couldn’t get there fast enough, but her legs and feet and body felt like stone. Heavy and unwilling to move. It felt like her walk of shame. All eyes staring at her, eyes that poked and prodded and prickled at her humiliation. The headlights blinded her vision, as if she was put on display---on trial--- for all of them to judge her. The clash of sweltering heat in her head like burning coal and the cold brewing in her stomach like piercing icepicks made her feel sick. Her cheeks burned with such intensity she thought she would combust on sight before setting foot in the car.
Maybe being set ablaze would be a blessing. It would be less painful than enduring all their stares!
With a click, Grava, their head maid, opened the door for Psyche. Psyche couldn’t bear to look the woman in the eyes. Grava couldn’t either. The woman knew what she’d done.
Psyche scorned herself even more. Because she was foolish enough to let it happen.
As Psyche contemplated building a pyre of wood graciously provided by the Zoldyck’s forest all around them---something weighed down in the pocket of her sweatpants. A reminder that tugged at her memory.
She stopped. Hands still clenched on the door. One foot halfway off the ground. Her sisters already had their seat belts buckled. Anomie looked disinterested as always. Chaotica miserably failed to conceal her amusement from tonight’s events, turning her head away from her little sister and biting her bottom lip, trying hard to prevent herself from laughing. From Psyche seeing her laugh. At her. Perhaps she would laugh once they were off the estate or beyond the border of The Republic of Padokea all together given her mom’s deadly glares towards the middle child. Icy glares silenced any unwanted snickering.
Her mom yelled a whisper calling out Psyche’s name. Finally she reached out her hand beckoning Psyche to enter the car.
Psyche took a step back. Mortifying her mom.
As Psyche walked back towards the Zoldycks, her mom slumped back in her seat, possibly succumbing to a heart attack.
Surprised. Kikyo and Silva didn’t know what to expect. The sons stood together side by side in a perfect line. From oldest to youngest. With Illumi at the nearest end and Kalluto and Alluka at the farthest, holding hands. Kalluto’s head laid on Alluka’s shoulder. His heavy eyelids fluttered, barely keeping himself awake, as Alluka gently patted Kalluto’s head, humming a sweet lullaby. Killua was more than wide awake, fidgeting where he stood, and looking inquisitively at Psyche than back at his parents. His gaze lingered with mischievous curiosity that rivaled her own sister. Nosy.
Psyche stopped in front of Illumi. He was wearing a sweatsuit of equal greyness, dullness, and ugliness that matched her own. They stood out from the rest, like two convicts that escaped prison, but didn’t get far enough to scrap their jumpsuits in time. His hands were shoved into his pockets. Whatever emotion he was feeling, anger, annoyance, embarrassment, humiliation---if he felt anything at all---he didn’t show it. Not on his face nor eyes nor posture. He emitted an aura of refined indifference.
He was a master at faking it.
Psyche reached into her pocket and pulled out a balisong knife.
Illumi blinked.
Killua smiled. Excitement fizzled in the little boy.
Panic surged through the butlers as they pounced into action fearing for their young master’s life. Silva quelled their apprehension with a simple wave of his hand. Halting the butlers before tearing down Psyche where she stood. One stopped himself a hair’s length away from killing the young assassin. She didn’t flinch from the near death sentence.
Illumi looked down at the knife, the handle facing him.
Killua frowned. No one was dying tonight.
“Thank you for letting me borrow your knife. I didn’t want to leave without returning it.” Her eyes were only on him. This was their last time seeing each other and she didn’t want him to call her a thief as well undoubtedly worse things.
She was only met with silence as he extended his hand out, grabbing a hold of the knife. Their fingers brushed against each other.
A quick burst of static shock snapped at their fingers.
Psyche gasped.
“Oh,” Illumi’s expression finally waned into something other than indifference. “You shocked me.”
Zeno mumbled to his son, nudging his elbow. “They shocked all of us.” Silva took a small step away from his father, rolling his eyes.
Psyche sighed, lightly. “Ah, sorry.”
“You don’t mean that.”
Psyche mouthed softly. “Never do.”
Slowly, his lips pursed into a small smile as she repeated the same words he’d spoken to her before.
She couldn’t help but smile back too.
Zeno burst out laughing. “Sparks are flying tonight.” He turned to Kiyko while laughter still lingered in his voice. “Why is everyone so serious? We were all young once.” He particularly looked only at Kikyo when he said that. Psyche couldn't see the glare hidden beneath her visor, but she felt it. “So they ran away together, how could they enjoy themselves with butlers breathing down their necks? No harm came from it. They are back now and safe, that’s all that matters. In fact, it did them good. It is not a crime to be young. Let them live. Let them have fun.”
A blush spread across Psyche’s cheek. A vulgar shyness took hold of her voice. She couldn't speak. She couldn't think. She couldn’t do anything more than hold onto the knife, which Illumi was still holding.
Kikyo roared back at her father in law. “They’re too young to be having s---”
Illumi’s mask of indifference cracked, slightly. “Mother, we walked the town. That was all.” And Psyche’s voice broke free. “Nothing happened---Yes, your town is beautiful.” They both said in unison.
Chaotica murmured to Anomie, “they walked all the way to a hotel. I’m sure they had a room with a beautiful view.” Anomie didn’t look up from her phone and continued scrolling. For a moment she stopped scrolling, lifted her hand---and flicked Chaotica on her forehead.
Any embarrassment Illumi was trying to hide now displayed itself fully all over his face. His cheeks burned bright all the way to the tips of his ears. She wondered if he felt the same way she did. He could play a stone cold statue all he wanted, but deep down he was contemplating building a pyre of his very own. Stick of matches in one hand, tank of gasoline in the other.
Zeno couldn’t help but chuckle. “We’ve made them plead their case enough for tonight, don’t you think?”
Kikyo rubbed her temples together, a splitting headache was coming on. They always happened when her father in law started talking. She’d wondered why. “We’re done discussing this. Boys, say goodbye to the girls. And Psyche.”
Psyche stiffened when her name was called. Kiyko called her name like it was a spell, releasing her from her trance. Finally letting go of the knife. Illumi held it in his hands. It felt heavier without her.
“Your mother is waiting for you. You mustn’t worry her.”
Killua, Alluka and Kalluto chorused their goodbyes. As did Psyche. Milluki simply mouthed his goodbye silently, slowly inching further away from them. Out of sight. His eyes caught Chaotica’s---she winked. He trembled. Perhaps he was still afraid of Chaotica and the warning she issued about him needing to protect certain assets. The offer was still standing and Milluki carefully weighed his options considerably. Therefore, Milluki hid behind the protection of his parents. For his and his yahoo’s safety.
Illumi pushed the knife towards Psyche. She looked at him, confused.
“Practice those knife tricks I showed you. You’re good.”
“Mh.” She bit the inside of her cheek to prevent herself from smiling too much.
The brisk night wind revived the flicker of hope in her heart. She couldn’t contain herself as she smiled all the way back to the car, she’d never been happier holding a balisong knife. She would treasure it. She would keep it safe, she would practice every knife trick in the book and woo him with her mastery until she could give it back to him. That was their promise. One promise hidden under the other.
Return the knife.
And
‘Come back to me.’
He wanted to see her again. Perhaps the night wasn’t a total disaster afterall.
As the Moiraio family drove away, but most importantly away from earshot. Kikyo sighed heavily. Letting every tense muscle that coiled in her body finally unwind. “What happened?” Killua raised an eyebrow, confused. His question was only met with a terse hush from his mother. “It’s off to bed with all you, come along.” She grabbed the little ones by their hands and escorted them back towards the estate.
Zeno slapped Illumi on the back. “Congratulations. You’ve become a man.”
Illumi exhaled. “Grandfather....nothing happened.”
Zeno walked along the barely lit trail. He stopped, staring earnestly up into the night sky, breathing in the crisp summer air. He looked back, his blue eyes meeting Illumi’s obsidian. “But something did.”
The hush of the wind wrapped around Illumi. Cool and comforting. He recalled exactly what had happened now and when her family arrived. And everything that happened in between. He sighed, what a whirlwind of events. His grandfather was right. Something did happen.
And Illumi wasn’t displeased about it.
He breathed, suppressing a laugh, and followed his family. The forest alone was his only witness to a small, but powerful act of defiance. It was the night he learned to savor disobedience.
FAWN9 News was eager to report on the sudden and tragic death of Harley Titem. The man who plunged to his death off a commercial airship. The fall was nothing short of 7 miles. Death was swift on impact as he plummeted towards the city below. A bus broke his fall. Luckily no one was on the bus when the collision happened. The driver would have died as well, but got off to check a flat tire that blew out while he was driving. That popped tire saved his life, as he was telling reporters, each shoving their microphones past the other. No one saw what happened. Harley’s death is currently a mystery, though curious minds could not help but craft sinister theories. Internet sleuths typed fervently at their keyboards at the new gruesome death to chew on. They were feasting off all the grisly details the police had to offer. Was he drunk? Was he on psychedelics? Suicide?
Murder?
The killer herself was more than happy to answer any questions that gnawed at the curious reporters.
“It was awful!” Chaotica cried and wrapped a blanket a policeman offered her, tighter around her shoulders. She whimpered directly into the nearest microphone, making sure the camera was filming her goodside. To anyone else that did not know her, her murderous tendencies, and the crime she just committed; her crying looked believable, but not overkill or else her mascara would smear down her eyes and cheeks. She was mourning a stranger's death, but that doesn’t mean she should look like a haggard mess. “We all heard screaming but by then it was too late. His screams, oh, they keep ringing in my head, I can’t get them out, I--” She hunched forward, crying feigned tears into her blanket. Hiding her face. Careful not to smear her makeup.
Oh she should have gone into acting! Assassination was wasted on her.
The reporter sniffled tears of their own, nodding sympathies.
Chaotica’s shoulders were shaking. The look of pure terror on that man’s face---oh it was so delicious! She better stop now before she really starts laughing uncontrollably in front of them.
Fortunately, a disapproving older sister ripped her from the ravenous horde of reporters. Nothing is more sorrowful than a crying face, well perhaps, if it were a beautiful one too. Breathtakingly tragic, even. The disproportionate amount of reporters that circled Chaotica like vultures disgustingly proved that. All they did was inflate her ego! “Clearly my sister is traumatized from tonight’s events. Excuse us.” Anomie grabbed Chaotica to prevent her from being interviewed by more news reporters. Making Chaotica trip over her own heels. Anomie shot any stranglers glares preventing them from being followed.
“Anomie, you’re pulling me too hard.”
Anomie pulled harder.
“Don’t go gentle on me now.” Chaotica snickered.
“This is why we can’t go to nice places!” Anomie barked, fuming. “You do something like this every single, DAMN time.”
“Hey, what was I gonna do? Let him stalk her the whole night. I saved Psyche’s ass---”
“If she ignored him, he would have left on his own accord.”
“Anomie. That never works.”
“I can take care of myself.” Psyche snapped.
“You’re welcome.” Chaotica continued. “If only you’ve seen that lecherous pervert’s thoughts. God, it made me want to ring his neck, I let him off easy pushing him off the deck.” She turned to Psyche for backup. She found none. Some sister. “If you saw all the wonderful things he planned to do to her, even you would have burnt him to a crisp! I did everyone on that airship a favor. Interviewing me was the very least they could do.”
“Shame they couldn’t throw you a parade as well.”
“Your sarcasm is one of my favorite things about you. But yes, a parade would be lovely. And you’ll stand right beside me, basking in the glory. Though I am the one they’re celebrating, we'll share it, of course. Along with our gremlin of a little sister. Where did she go?”
Anomie ignored her incessant rambling. “I know this is very hard for you, but did you even stop to THINK,” Anomie accentuated, “TO THINK about how many cameras there were tonight? How many people would recognize you?”
“Yes! I hope all the footage they shot of me makes it on FAWN9 news. For a few minutes at most. I couldn’t have given a better performance. That man may be gone, but he is not forgotten. My tears for poor Hariot---”
“Harley. His name was Harley.”
“Hariot, Harley, whatever, will not go unnoticed!”
“God forbid you play the supporting character…”
“HARLEY may have been the lead, but how can he lead the production when he is dead? Hm? I breathed life into his role!”
Psyche muttered under her breath, “You were also the one that took it away.”
“Coming from you, I figured you would be agreeing with me? And wrong. Yes, I pushed him, but gravity did the rest.”
“I wonder what his autopsy will say. He gravitied to death?” Anomie said, rolling her eyes.
“Anomie, careful when you roll your eyes, they might get stuck in the back of your head.”
“You have a flare for the dramatics, but you shouldn’t have shown yourself on camera.”
Chaotica felt like she was pierced through the heart.
“I phoned Mom. She’s sending a maid over to FAWN9 studios right now to get rid of any evidence they caught of you on camera.” Anomie gritted her teeth, her mom yelled at her to no end over the phone. She could have sworn she’s gone death in one ear.
Chaotica’s jaw dropped. All those tears she cried over Harry….WASTED! “How could you!?”
“Not every fucking night has to be made about you!”
A mischievous feline expression formed on Chaotica’s face. Anomie was cursing. She must be really mad. “Why shouldn’t it?”
Anomie cursed under her breath, contemptuously. “You just love being the center of attention.”
“Not everyone is made to play dreary wallflowers like yourself and besides I look so good tonight. I’m meant to be a star.” Chaotica whined. “Psyche, Psyche, tell her, tell her, Psyche.”
Psyche was as far away from both of them as possible.
Chaotica shook her head, forlorn. “Shame she doesn’t like you very much.”
Anomie pulled on Chaotica harder. “Yes, I would like it too if you were a ball of gas million miles away. But I've learned not to place hope in pipe dreams.”
“Stop being so mean to meeeee. I’M MEANT TO SHINE.”
“Maybe I'll stop when you stop exhausting me at every opportunity you get.” Chaotica could see the devil horns poking through Anomie’s head. She liked to imagine they were twisted horns that oozed blood red! She looks so cute when she’s mad. It tempted her to poke a little harder.
“Oh my dear, foolish Ann, now that is a pipe dream.” Chaotica was cackling wildly.
“Now because of you, we’re going to have to take the least savory form of public transportation.”
Chaotica’s face paled. “No....”
“That’s right.” A villainous smile spread on Anomie’s lips. Chaotica could have sworn she saw pointed teeth. My Oh My, how the tables have turned. “The subway.”
“RELEASE ME.”
“YOU’VE DONE THIS TO US.”
“PSYCHE, CONVINCE HER!”
Psyche happily flipped open her book, ignoring them both. She was re-reading page 172, just in case she might have missed something. It was a long ride.
“You’re no help...I HATE TAKING THE SUBWAY. IT’S FOUL.”
“If the subway doesn’t mind, why should you?”
“Har har.” Chaotica batted her eyelashes, performing her best puppy dog eyes look. “I’ll be good from now on. I promise! No more spontaneous killings!”
“You know, if you said it with just a little more conviction than I would have believed you.”
“But I’m telling the truth.”
Anomie whipped her head around and shot a deadly glare.
Chaotica gulped. “This time I am! HONEST!”
“You said that last time, and the time before that, and the time before that, and the time before that again. Time, time, time, time, time, and again.” The oldest sister’s voice was rising and rising and rising. Finally soaring. Then came the hissing. It started off so faint, one wouldn’t have noticed it until it crescendoed. It whistled and blared sharply through their ears. A sound so piercing it could cut steel. Chaotica squeezed her eyes shut and clamped one hand over her ear, the other succumbing to deafening pain. Steam. Real, white, hot steam shot out of Anomie’s ears. “Tell me, Chaotica. What will you say next time? And the next? And after that too?”
Anomi’s grip on Chaotica began to turn warm. A startling realization that it was a heat that would kindle into something more. The beginning of a fire that would soon become ablaze. Little by little.
Chaotica clawed at Anomie’s hand. Panicking. “Anomie...Anomie. Let go of me.”
Anomie kept walking. One foot in front of the other. Hypnotized in a trance. The irises of her eyes faded to white and flared, mimicking the raging core of a candle’s flame. She kept mumbling to herself as the steam blared on. Warbling nonsensical nothings. Heat rose and the air around them became warped and hot.
Shit. Anomie was having another episode. Chaotica instantly regretted everything she did and said tonight. “LET GO OF ME.”
Steam rose underneath Anomie’s grip.
Something crackled.
Chaotica screamed.
Psyche dropped her book. Adrenaline spiked throughout Psyche’s blood as a dark shadow loomed across her face. She jumped in front of Anomie. Her voice was low and soft, “forgive me.”
She plunged forward, focusing her aura into her hands and releasing it with a powerful burst. Fists clenched tight. A punch to the face couldn’t be ignored. Anomie acted reflexively and released her grip of Chaotica’s wrist. The middle child jumped back and dropped to her knees, cradling her burned wrist towards her chest. Gasping for air. Shaking.
A gust of wind. A burst of aura. Darkness met fire as the two sisters collided. Shadow monsters jumped through Psyche’s own shadow, preventing direct contact, and latched themselves onto Anomie. Her skin scorched red, orange, yellow, and white as the flames consumed her---a girl made of fire. No matter how hot the fire inside her raged, it did not burn the monsters.
Psyche sprinted off the ground and grabbed Anomie’s purse. Pouring out its contents haphazardly. Her eyes widened when she saw the prescription bottle. It was full. Barely used. Anomie hasn’t been taking her medicine. Why?
Anomie roared as the shadow monster’s grip on her loosened. Psyche dropped down to one knee as the world beneath her spinned, disorienting her. She barely had enough energy left from her job.
Heels clicked against cement. Psyche looked up as Chaotica swiped the prescription bottle from her hands. She noticed the burn on her sister’s arm, while a bitter sadness loomed in her eyes.
Chaotica was guilty of many crimes, which she wasn’t ashamed of. It didn’t matter if she were to add another to that long list. Including vandalism.
The fire hydrant turned into a geyser as water burst towards her sister. A quick way of extinguishing all her flames. Psyche’s monsters receded into her shadow as Anomie’s flames fizzled out.
Chaotica tossed the bottle at Anomie. It hit her head and clattered off the concrete. Water dripped down Anomie’s hair and skin. Her irises darkened to their original color as realization gradually took hold of her, and so did shame. She kept her head low. Eyes glued to the cracks in the cement.
Chaotica clicked her tongue. “Take your damn medicine.”
Anomie drawled out the words, sluggishly. Eyes still glued to the cement. “I don’t like how it makes me feel.”
Chaoica opened her mouth, but the words weren’t there. For once, she chose silence. She stalked off away from them both, grumbling. Psyche quickly gathered all of Anomie’s belongings back into her purse. She kneeled down before her sister and held her hand. She titled the prescription bottle and poured out a single blue pill into her hand. Anomie just stared at it as Psyche uncapped a bottle of water.
“Please.” Psyche helped her hold the water battle. Helped her lift her hand towards her lips. Helped her take her medicine. This business---assassination---leaves no one unscathed.
Anomie titled back her head and struggled to swallow the pill. It was rough and coarse and felt like a rock grated down her throat. After swallowing the pill, she downed an entire bottle of water. Psyche cupped her hands beneath Anomie’s chin, preventing water from spilling onto her blouse. When she was finished her voice was raspy and weak. “I’m sorry.”
The assassin didn’t look back as she held onto her burnt wrist, tight. There were worse things than taking the subway.
Arriving home turned out to be more pleasant than the journey to it. Chaotica and Anomie completely ignored each other while riding the underground subway. They even sat on opposite sides of the car just to prove their distaste for the other. Upon returning home, both girls growled, Chaotica stormed off to their Mom’s room screaming that Anomie was a bitch and Anomie stayed outside the mansion wanting to let off some steam on the blacklist hunters that camped outside their home. Or as Chaotica liked to call them, their adoring fans. At least they were acknowledging each other’s existence. That had to count for something?
Grava, the head maid, opened the door for Psyche and bowed her head lightly. The young assassin turned around looking at Anomie who was about to take on at least a dozen black list hunters all by herself. The eldest assassin cracked her knuckles, expectantly.
Psyche wasn’t concerned, well, maybe for the black list hunters at least. Considering Anomie was already in one of her moods....they were probably all going to die. “Do you need any help?” She asked, knowing full well that her sister wanted to be alone. But by asking, she hoped she reminded her that she wasn’t alone. None of them were.
“No, thank you.” Anomie tossed her jacket on the ground and began to stretch her muscles. Bones cracking in a fluid symphony as she did. She was itching to punch someone. Hard. Thankfully, she had an array of faces to choose from. The uglier, the better. “So, which one of you is first? Get on with it.”
She was met with a rapture of cackles from the crowd that shook her quiet neighborhood. “This is it? That bounty will be ours!” Some laughed. Others were already sure of their victory and debating how they would split the reward money.
Anomie tapped her foot on the ground, hands on her hips. Annoyed. “You’ll never get that reward money if you keep yapping.”
A black list hunter stepped forward, he bore a sword that stretched high above his head, he dragged it across the pavement and swiped it across the grounds. Creating a swirling storm of debris. Gravel and dust landed on Anomie’s shoes. She raised her eyebrows. Intimidation doesn’t work on her. His wicked smile revealed a row of yellow teeth. Neither does his rupulsing face. “Why don’t you surrender now, so we don’t have to fight. Your bounty is worth more with you alive.”
Steam began to hiss out of Anomie’s ears. “Why don’t you shove that sword up your---”
Psyche shrugged and closed the door behind her. Anomie doesn’t need her help. But those black list hunters surely need God’s.
She handed her coat and purse to Grava and began to hear the painful cries of men who regretted every choice they made in life that led them to this very moment. She wondered how long it would last. Given Anomie’s mood, she’d probably stretch it out for as long as she wanted. Their remaining time alive relied entirely on her mercy.
What poor souls...Psyche prayed a silent prayer for them.
“Grava,” Psyche looked up at her warm gray eyes, where wrinkles began to peek in the corners. “May I have something to eat?”
Grava shook her head, forlorn. “You know how your mother feels about eating meals past midnight.”
Why does everyone want her to starve? Psyche batted her eyelashes, angelically. “This may be my last meal at home.”
Grava smiled a thin line. “Breakfast will be served before your departure tomorrow. We’ll send you off with a sublime meal you’ll remember us by.”
The smile on Psyche’s face faded into a frown. She wanted to eat now. She wanted to stuff her face with piping hot food now. She wanted to eat until she couldn’t look at food ever again. NOW.
She staggered to her room, feeling light headed. Damn, she hated working late into the night. It throws off her body's circadian rhythm; her body doesn't know when to wake and when to sleep anymore. She didn’t even know if she was nocturnal or diurnal at this point. She slept when she had time to sleep.
Psyche passed a portrait of her father and pressed her fingers to the glass frame among a sea of countless other fingerprints from years past. “Hello father, I’m home.” She said to the still painting. Her father, Roentgen, was a handsome man and an assassin like no other when he was alive. His hair was a light brown and curled at the ends, he barely had any grey streaks. Along with high cheekbones, sharp jaw, and a well defined nose. His eyes were blue, beautiful even. As her Mom said he had eyes that could captivate any woman, or man. She wondered how much her Mom missed him, considering she never remarried after he died. Occasionally, there were lovers sprawled around the mansion here and there, but nothing everlasting.
Though her Mom said Roentgen was lucky to die at home, surrounded by his family. He could have died out on a mission. Losing his life as well tarnishing the family’s reputation. It was a blessing that disease took his life and not the hand of another assassin.
She fancied the world ceased when he passed. Shuddered to a stop. An unimaginable stillness. And the world lost all its shine and color and became a boring mesh of gray. Psyche tried asking her Mom, respectfully of course. What did it feel like having the second half of your heart ripped out from you?
A slow death. Her Mom replied. Arsenic would have been quicker. Kinder. She saw it there. Love. Years after his passing, it still glittered in her eyes.
Psyche wanted a love like that. A love so deep and beautiful that transcends life into death. Though she’d prefer the love of her life to stay alive for as long as possible. Illumi was strong, powerful, and healthy. He’d most likely outlive her!
Silently laughing to herself, she had nothing to worry about.
Oh no! She clapped both of her cheeks and squeezed her eyes shut. She shouldn’t even be thinking about her betrothed dying! And right before the wedding on top of it! She mustn't think of such morbid thoughts.
Banishing thoughts about dead husbands and ill fated marriages, she gazed back into the portrait of her father, smiling. She knew he would be proud of her. Her journey to this very moment was nothing short of peril and danger and loss, but...she made it. She survived. She thought he would agree that she’s grown into a fine assassin.
Hurrying past the portrait, she entered her room. She was not going to let herself cry the night before her wedding!
Her stomach grumbled, reminding her of her hunger. Her knees buckled in front of her dresser, she looked over her shoulder just in case anyone was watching and opened the bottom drawer. She lifted the hatch, which revealed a secret compartment.
Hidden inside was heavenly salvation!
Granola bars, energy drinks, vegetable sticks, candy bars, bubblegum and a treasure trove of more nonperishable goods! She grabbed a granola bar, one covered with dark chocolate chunks and dried cherries drizzled with a thin layer of honey. She bit into the bar and moaned. Oh, Psyche was her own guardian angel. She would never let herself starve. Damn her Mom’s strict meal times.
If Psyche wanted to eat, then she was going to eat! Killing on an empty stomach was nonsense.
Someone knocked on her door. Psyche hurriedly shoved the rest of the bar in her mouth and tucked away all her snacks. No one must know of her precious hiding place. It was hers. Only hers.
Though she supposed tomorrow on, her hiding place, this room---none of it would be her’s anymore. Home would be someplace new.
Chaotica opened the door, with a plate of grilled cheese sandwiches. Hm, she may be Psyche’s new favorite sister. “Knock knock.”
You say ‘knock knock’ before you enter, but who cares! Food has arrived! “Gimme.” Psyche eagerly grabbed air and gestured where Chaotica should place the grilled cheese sandwiches. Crisp, golden bread with melted cheddar cheese oozing out in the middle. Her mouth was watering.
Chaotica noddled smugly to herself. Psyche likes people better when they bring her food.
Psyche bit into the sandwich and she swore she was going to cry. She noticed the burn on her sister’s arm was gone. Healed. She wiped the corner of her mouth and swallowed. “You good?”
Chaotica hummed, showing off her flawless ivory wrist. “Mom fixed it up for me. It’s so handy being an assassin with healing abilities. Ironic, isn’t it?”
Psyche nodded. The healer assassin was a contradiction. Without her mother, Psyche’s body would be carved with scars.
Chaotica’s eyes widened. “Hurry, turn on the TV!”
They turned to FAWN9 news, which was reporting the tragic death of the man Chaotica just killed. The assassin flipped onto Psyche’s bed, and held her head in her hands. Watching the screen in anticipation. Waiting patiently.
She groaned in agony when they cut her interview out of the news. “My debut….ruined!”
“It’s not so bad.” Psyche patted Chaotica on the head. Was she crying into her pillow?
Chaotica lifted her head up, the tears were real. “What the hell am I supposed to do with the rest of my life if I can’t make it on TV?!” She slammed her head back down into Psyche’s pillow.
“I think I saw the back of your dress when they cut between scenes. It was very pretty.”
Chaotica sniffled. “I do have a nice butt.”
“Uh huh.”
“You do know that I didn't kill him just to be on the news….the interview part was just extra.”
Psyche tried to nod her sympathies. “I know. You were just looking out for me.”
Chaotica shot up, “Anomie doesn’t get it. She thinks I can’t restrain myself. Please, I would have cut down his abdomen and painted the airship with his guts if I wanted to. He wasn’t going to leave you alone. He would have followed you out when the airship landed. Watching his memories tempted me to reconsider taking up a career in creating macabre art, but I kept cool. Calm. Poised. And threw the fucker off the ship.” She raised her arms in the air, exasperated. As if saying she was right all along.
“Tomato Tomahto.”
“What?”
Psyche chewed on her sandwich. She couldn’t give an answer if her mouth was stuffed.
“You think I’m wrong?”
Psyche mumbled a sound that didn’t resemble any known language. The answer was neither a yes or a no, but somewhere in the land of in-between.
Chaotica cocked her head, “You think Anomie is right?”
Psyche swallowed, carefully considering her answer. For the wrong answer could mean certain death.
Instead of waiting for death, she embraced it. Head on. She pretended to choke on her sandwich. “W--Water.” She coughed.
Chaotica narrowed her eyes. “If you can speak you’re not choking.” She lazily reached towards Psyche’s drawer, “Alright, alright. But you need to restock on Dr. Pepper. That’s my favorite.”
Psyche’s mouth dropped open. Her voice was soft. Weak. “You know about my secret stash?”
Chaotica retracted her hands, and raised her brows. She looked between Psyche and the not so secret drawer of snacks. A deer in headlights. “It was a secret?”
Something tapped at the window, along with a yelled whisper. Chaotica whipped towards and ripped open the curtains. She saw Anomie illuminated by the front porch lights and watched as she slammed a black list hunter to the ground, mouthing the words ‘join me.’
As fun as it would be to destroy stupid men and their stupid dreams, Chaotica just didn’t feel up to it. Nor did she forgive Anomie. Still, Anomie waved her hands, ‘come down,’ she appeared to say.
Anger fumed within the assassin. She opened the window and yelled out into the night, specifically to the black list hunters below. “GET WRECKED, LOSERS.” Then slammed the window shut and closed the curtains.
She slumped back onto the bed. Psyche sipped on her fruit juice.
“So,” Chaotica breathed, examining her nails. Her eyes flicked up meeting her younger sister’s. “What was it like?”
“No, no, no,” Psyche crossed her arms, realizing that her sister just came to her room to snoop. “I am not having this conversation with you. AGAIN.”
“But I brought food to you, my starving little sister, look at you, you’re withering away!”
“You think you can bribe me? With food?”
“Bribe you? Oh no,” Chaotica accentuated with a flourish. “I was just thinking that since you’re finally marrying him and all, there’s no need to put on airs on what really happened that night when we visited the Zoldycks years ago.” She held a hand over her heart, crossing her fingers. “I won’t tell anyone. Promise.”
Psyche sighed. “You don’t have to worry about telling anyone because there is nothing to tell.”
Chaotica, not listening, leaned over and whispered. “Did you really have sex with him? I’m not judging.”
Psyche’s face burned scarlet red, startled. The juice box fell from her hands and she hastened to pick it up.
“That’s a yes!” Chaotica squealed.
“THAT’S A NO! Just because we were alone doesn’t mean we did anything funny!”
“Psyche, it’s okay. You can finally spill the tea.” Amusement was written all over Chaotica’s face.
“There’s no tea that needs to be spilled! Nothing happened, how many more times do I have to tell you!”
“Psyche.” Chaotica whisked her index finger in the air. Commanding the room. “You both evaded the Zoldyck butlers chaperoning you, escaped the estate, fled the mountain, cut off all communication, no one knew where the heck you both were for two WHOLE days. It was insane. Everyone was starting to think you both were kidnapped. Held for ransom. Or worse. It was so exciting. Then it turns out that all along y’all went to town and checked into a hotel room. A swanky one, might I add.”
“...It wasn’t swanky. It was modest.”
“Of course, 5 stars is humble. I’m sorry that you think I don't believe you Duckie, but all that evidence leaves a lot of room for the imagination to chew on.”
“Chew on something else and don’t call me Duckie. I hate that nickname.”
“But you’re our little, baby duck.” She reached over and pinched Psyche’s cheeks. Psyche swatted her hands away.
“Speaking of which, I have a present for youuuuuu.” Chaotica sang as she carried the box hidden in the hallway and into Psyche’s room. Plopping it right on top of Psyche’s lap. “I know you didn’t want to have a bachelorette party, but Anomie---” Chaotica hissed out the name as a pebble tapped against the window, “Won’t she just quick it. Anomie and I couldn’t resist throwing together a present for you. It’s not glamorous at all, but has its practical uses. Anomie and I were supposed to give it to you together, but her loss. It will surely come in handy in your newlywed life.”
Psyche’s heart warmed, smiling. “Thank you. Both of you.” She wondered what it was?
“It’s perfect because you both can use it.”
Psyche blinked.
She carefully sifted through the pink and purple confetti and pulled out a roll of condoms.
“Oh my god.”
“I know, not enough?”
Psyche looked into the rest of the box’s contents. Shocked. “WHAT IS THIS?”
“It’s a contraception kit.” Chaotica began pointing to each item. “Here we have condoms, both internal and external, try not to go through them all that quickly. Never reuse condoms, spare yourself the tears. Dental dams. Contraceptive gel. Lubricant, you don’t want to suffer. If you want him to suffer, don’t use it---”
Psyche shut the box, almost snapping off Chaotica’s finger in the process. Almost. She didn’t want to be thinking about having sex, it was too soon! “I’m not going to be having…” Her mouth stumbled over the word, “uh, in a while.”
“I know, but you should never leave it up to the guy to teach you sex ed. Plus, you don’t want a dozen Zoldyck babies running around, if any, before you’re ready.”
Psyche’s blush shattered her brain. Babies...
“Also, if he tries to force himself on you---”
“He won’t.”
Chaotica sighed. “Alright. Just don’t let him do anything to you unless you give your consent.”
“I know, or else you’ll chop off his yahoo.”
“That’s right!”
“This is a very generous gift, now get out.”
“We haven’t even gotten to the penis pasta yet. That’s a fun one.”
Psyche gawked. “The...I'm sorry, what.”
“I wanted to add penis straws to the kit too, but Anomie said that it wouldn’t be classy.”
How could Chaotica say that word aloud so easily? And why did so much penis related merchandise exist in the world? Wait a second. She narrowed her eyes and looked at the confetti. Really looked at it. She hid her face in her hands.
“It’s penis confetti! Cute, right.”
“I want to sleep now, please.” Psyche groaned, pushing Chaotica off her bed.
“But you really should read the pamphlet, safe sex is sexy.” Another pebble tapped against the window. Fury rose within her. “I’ve had it! I’m sorry Psyche, but you’re going to have to read that pamphlet by yourself.” Chaotica roared and stormed out of the mansion. The night air chilled her skin, she wrapped her robe around her, tighter.
The yard looked like a battlefield. It wasn’t a fight---but a slaughter.
A devilish smile tugged at her lips. Maybe she should have joined in on the fun?
She stepped around the mounds of ashes that piled in heaps on the yard and walked towards her sister. Anomie kept her hands in her pockets, standing in front of the gardener’s shed.
“I gave Psyche our present without you.”
Anomie blinked. “I thought we were going to give it to her together.”
“Too bad you missed it. And she loved it.” She lied about the latter, but Anomie didn’t need to know that.
“I wonder how I’ll ever cope not being able to see her reaction. Such a pity.”
“Hmph. I do not miss your sarcasm.” Chaotica regretted not recording it.
“Speaking of presents.” Anomie glanced towards the shed.
Chaotica crossed her arms, and huffed into the night air. “Well.”
Anomie tilted her head, opened the shed and gestured for Chaotica to enter.
Chaotica clicked her tongue. “I’m not in the mood for surprises.”
“You’ll like this one.”
Reluctantly, Chaotica walked into the shed. She held her hands over her mouth.
And was mesmerized.
It was a black list hunter---the leader of his group of thugs. He was gagged and tied to a chair. His eyes practically popped from his head as the assassins circled around him like hungry vultures. Beside him was a table of knives. Chaotica trailed her fingers over the blades with care, lovingly. Wondering which one she should pick. Her sweet friends.
“I’m sorry, Chaotica.” Anomie breathed. “I shouldn’t have hurt you. I shouldn’t even allow myself to enter those states. I hate myself when I do. I know I need to take my medicine and I try to…”
Chaotica fiddled with a knife. “You don’t need to explain. I should apologize too. I shouldn’t have provoked you tonight, I already saw you were tired, but ignored it. I know I bother you alot…”
“You don’t bother me.” Anomie blinked. “I love having you around me.”
“REALLY? You’re not just saying that because I'm holding a knife?”
Anomie held Chaotica’s hand around her own. Fingers intertwined around the knife. “I love you even better for it.”
Chaotica’s mouth quivered as tears formed in her eyes. “Thank you for being my best friend. I didn’t mean to call you a bitch.”
Anomie tilted her back and laughed. “But, I am one. I should be the one thanking you for putting up with me.”
“OH! I almost forgot, I was researching medicinal plants that I think may help alleviate your symptoms without making you feel so groggy like your current medicine does.”
Anomie smiled, “I’d like that.”
As the sisters hugged, the black list hunter attempted to free himself, but to no avail. He reasoned that he wasn’t gagged and restrained in this shed for the sole purpose of being their captive audience ordered to aw or clap on command. Witness to their reunion. How it sickened him. By now, he should have been out of Mimbo Republic, with the reward money and both of their heads dangling off the trunk of his car. He snarled at the two assassins, consumed with rage.
“Uh oh, someone’s cranky.” Chaotica mused, drifting her knife towards the hunter.
Anomie’s eyes narrowed. The man felt something sinister brewing in the air around them. “One of his colleagues mentioned employers. Unfortunately, I didn’t get to inquire any further before he died.” She said, brushing ashes off her blouse. “I want names.”
Chaotica looked at the man and waved her hand in front of the table of weapons. “Any special requests?”
He saw the devil within her. And screamed long into the night.
Psyche laid on top of her bed and stared up at the ceiling, setting her book aside. Watching the painted stars illuminate her room with a faint glow of gold light. She flipped onto her side and looked at the balisong knife on her dresser. She borrowed it from Illumi all those years ago, and she was finally going to return it.
She may have purposely held onto it longer than she planned.
He might as purposely let her.
She curled up, pulling her blankets tighter around her. Shielding her from the dark. Heart thrumming wildly in her chest.
Tears dripped down her eyes, soaking into her blanket. She was taken aback by her surprise. These weren’t tears of broken dreams or fractured hearts.
But of joy.
Immense, uncontainable joy. Tears that were blessed with the promise of a new beginning.
After all the pain and loss and unbearable suffering she endured...good things were coming. Finally, she was done waiting.