Damn. CPTSD got hands.
The Highland Gardens Stadium brings back some seriously mixed memories. Just standing out front looking up at its marquee makes me feel weird. Some comedian's in town next week, and there's a concert this Friday, and it's all just very normal. But for a few weeks a handful of years ago, this place was an arena of violence and bloodshed, with wars raging every night between the best of the best. And I was right there in the thick of it, fighting like hell. Back when I had something I was fighting for. Well, someone, I guess.
The cigarette in my fingers is burning low, but I always smoke mine down to the filter. I'm drunk as fuck, nearly done with the fifth of rum, and barely able to stand up straight without holding onto the streetlight beside me. I've been standing here for an hour or more, maybe, just… fucking…
Just fucking stuck, y'know?
I know I have to go in there but I don't want to. There's just too much emotional weight hanging over the place that it's like a barrier keeping me out. Should be easy, right? Should be happy memories, right? I won the title, I literally beat out everyone who competed against me, I was at the top of the fucking world, right?
The problem with flying high is that there's a long way to fall.
Just ask Icarus.
Hell, just ask me.
I groan and grind against my aching body, forcing myself to take a seat on the curb so I can hold my spinning head in my hands. What a fucking joke this all is. What was Anna thinking, making me come here? She knows better than anyone why I hate this place. Maybe that's why she chose it. Maybe the fact I've been loitering out front for so damn long instead of just going right inside is exactly what she expected of me when she devised this next trail of hers. Maybe, by just sitting here feeling sorry for myself, I am meeting the conditions of the fifth test. I didn't even have to try with the third or fourth ones, so why should I have to try for this?
I feel sick, and it isn't from the rum.
One of the worst parts of being alone is having nobody to turn to. I've long since gotten used to that much, and I've learned through repeated experience that getting others involved in my problems inevitably causes people to fucking hate me in the end. Anna is the sole exception to that. But Anna isn't here.
Sitting up to light another smoke, I sigh gray clouds and feel even more sorry for myself. Guess I could call Kahri or Aife. But no, they're too new. This problem of mine goes so deep I can't even conceptualize how I'd catch them up to speed. Besides, I can't scare them off with something like this.
"Hah," I choke out with a sour grin. "Hey. We just met yesterday, but uh. Lemme take this extremely deep-rooted, complex, developmental trauma that's shaped the entire trajectory of my existence for the past half decade and make it your problem to deal with. Fuck you, by the way. Stupid. That'd be so stupid of me."
I fucking hate this. People always say they're there for me but they're not. It's like offering someone a mini powdered donut out of the six pack just to be polite, but secretly hoping they don't actually accept the offer. Like, yes, I extend you the grace of being there in your time of need. And then, when the time of need comes, I'll make a call-out post and flame you for trauma dumping and being a bad mentally ill person, because egads! You're not actually supposed to be mentally ill!
I spit in the gutter. "Boo-hoo. Whatever. Nobody cares. Just shut the fuck up and [WEBNOVEL CENSOR: SUICIDE] already."
Immortality means I can't [WEBNOVEL CENSOR: SUICIDE].
What a fucking joke.
[WEBNOVEL CENSOR: SUICIDAL THOUGHTS]
I stab the cigarette to my [WEBNOVEL CENSOR: DEPICTION OF SELF HARM].
Not like it matters. Pain doesn't mean anything to me. It isn't worth anything either. The absence of it isn't in any way more valuable than the presence of it. Just as the inverse is true as well. It fucking sucks, but that's about it. And since everything sucks for me, a little cigarette burn barely even registers over the noise of all my misery. I feel nothing. I hate feeling nothing. I hate feeling so empty.
"Gods, I fucking hate [WEBNOVEL CENSOR: SUICIDE]."
Nothing in the night bothers to respond to me. Nobody shows up to comfort me. Nobody even hears my words in the first place. I am the tree falling in the woods with no one around. And the answer to whether it makes a sound or not is that either way, sound or no sound, it's all the same. The tree is dead. Shouldn't we be more concerned about that?
"Go inside," I tell myself, eyeing the last of the rum in the bottle. "Be a big girl. Anna needs you. Just get up… and go inside. It's not that hard. All you have to do is do it."
Easier said than done.
I'm so pathetic. Woe is me. Worthless.
What else is there to say?
I tilt the bottle back and [WEBNOVEL CENSOR: GRAPHIC DEPICTION OF ALCOHOLISM], exhaling fumes and ignoring the lurch in my stomach as I launch the glass bottle into the middle of the street where it shatters into glittering stars that catch every glimmer of the city lights as they get run over by a cars left and right.
If that isn't a metaphor, I don't know what is.
Inhaling smoke, I grumble, "Hope that slashes your fucking tires, assholes."
The unwarranted and senseless act of malice against my fellow man does not make me feel any better. I don't know why I did that. I'm not usually this callous. I don't think so, anyway. But this place is bringing out the worst in me. The ugliest parts of Nicole Astoria, which were buried beneath the foundations of this stadium, and are now escaping containment.
Predictably, I think of her. Damn it. I hate thinking of her.
Black hair. Gold skin. Long and tall. Graceful. Cat's eyes.
My heart aches. My body hurts. I think I'm about to cry.
"Fuck," I exhale. Both hands shaking. "No, no, no…"
How much can one person hurt before they just… break?
I don't know. But then again, I'm already broken...
"Caw!"
I flinch. There's a crow right next to me, standing on the curb. My reflection stares back at me in its beady black eye. I don't know what else to do but offer my cigarette.
"Caw!" It flies away.
"Aw. Man. Bummer…"
"Caw!" Another takes its place.
Pinched in its beak is a small plastic bag.
I blink twice, trying to remove my drunk goggles. "Yo, what? Is that coke? Jesus, that's like an entire eight ball. Where'd you find that, little buddy? Don't mind me, I'm just gonna… have a look…"
It violently flutters its wings and takes off.
"Aw, shit! There it goes! Fuck me, man! It was right there!"
"Caw!" Another crow lands in its place.
"Dude, what the fuck is happening? What is that? Is that for me? Can I actually have it this time or…" When I reach out, it sets the scrap of paper in my palm, nips my finger, and flies away. "Thank you, little buddy! What's with these crows, man?"
Just like before, there's a note on it.
"Go inside," I read, "and it's yours."
I turn the paper over but there's nothing in the back.
"Uhhh. Huh. So… Crows. The crows want me to… And then the coke…" After another second or two, it registers. I stand up right away. "Fuck this self pity shit! There's free coke on the line!"
I grab my bag and bring my smoke, stumbling over my own two feet as I hurriedly traipse over to the front doors. After pausing to get my balance, I face my first obstacle. The doors are locked. Shit. I tuck my fist tight to my shoulder and bash my elbow against the glass door so hard it shatters and breaks. Alarms start blaring and shit as I shove my way inside, mindful of my beautiful sneakers as more glass breaks around me.
Success.
"Hacker voice. I'm in."
The lobby is big. Fancy. Stupid bullshit. I hate it. The front desk. The elevators. The houseplants. Are they fake? Hell if I know. Aife might. Gods, I like Aife. She's so cool. And Kahri. Oh my Gods, Kahri. She's the best.
"I fucking love. My frieeends!"
The alarms drown me out.
"Christ, man, you'd think I'm robbing a bank!"
Things start to blur together and I am so here for it. If I'm sloppy drunk then I don't have to–Then I don't have any… Wait. What don't I have? Ah, forget it. This stupid place and its stupid locked doors and its stupid dim lighting and its stupid existence in a completely general sense that–that, uh, expands… beyond…
"Where?" I demand of an exit sign as I pass under it. Then I ask the next one, "Where do I go? That way?" I find myself in a men's bathroom. I leave the men's bathroom. "Not that way. Maybe this way? Where the…"
I'm in the audience stands now. It's dark.
Oh, I'm on the stage thing in the middle.
Yeah, the octagon was right–right here.
And the seats… Like a circle. All around it.
"The lights are on," I observe. "Spotlights. Moonlight. Why you tripping? Get your… Get your, uh, your mood… right? Where the fuck am I, dude? What?"
I start laughing. I love laughing!
"You do not know what I am!" the little dude yells from up in the stands. "You insult me!"
"Fuck you, little man! Bring it on! I'll fucking kill you!"
"No! No, you will not! Clive will kill you! To death!"
The tall man soars through the air and lands on the stage in front of me with a booming thud. Okay, yeah, that dude is like nine teeth–I mean, nine feet and he's skinny as a broom with arms as long as I am tall. No, wait, longer.
Damn, that mans got reach.
"Dude, you should totally play basketball."
"I've been banned from all but rec leagues."
"Bummer, dude, 'cause I'm gonna break them ankles, boyyy!"
"Clive! Kill her! To death!"
I start laughing. "Wait, wait, wait, wait! Your name is Clive? Holy shit, bro! Oh, Gods, I'm sooo sorryyy! Ahahahah!"
Somehow, we end up fighting, and buddy. Oh, boy. This lengthy fella right here? My guy Clive does not know what he's doing. He's just kinda swinging those long ass arms around hoping to hit something. As for me, I marched in here ready to murder somebody, but now I just feel bad. It'd be like a sabertooth killing a mouse, and nobody feels good about that.
And then I'm on the floor.
Fuck me, feels like I got hit by a truck. Again.
"The… The fuck?" I slur, struggling to make sense of… "Ow. My… head… What? What… happened? Huh?"
"Jesus, are you okay?" Clive asks me, kneeling over above me. He's a little scary looking, all gaunt and sunken eyed and skeletal. But his expression is… worried. Worried? "She just fell off the stage! All on her own! Can you hear me? Do you know where you are?"
"Fuh… Fuckinnng… Where…"
"Yes, where. Can you tell me where we are?"
"I don't… Oh, I don't know… My… head?"
"Shit. Uh. Okay, we… Womp, we'd better go!"
Blinking hurts. Light hurts. I can't see straight.
"Wait. Wait… Where? What?"
My good friend Clive sets a huge spindly hand on my shoulder. "I'll call this in. We're going, but…"
Oh. Somebody turned out the lights.
Fuck me, that's bright as shit.
I blink awake to a blinding light shining in my face. Groaning and moaning and pissed off already, I force my bearings into place and gradually become aware of the fact I'm in a white room, laying in bed halfway sitting up, and there's this awful thing blasting me with light from the left.
"Oh, she's waking up," someone says, a man's voice I distinctly recognize. "Awaken, my dear little sister! And greet the bountiful and glorious light of day, which I know for a fact you adore!"
"Aw, dude, can you just not today?" I grumble, shielding my eyes from the stupid sun with a hand. "Turn that chariot around, bro. Take it back under…"
Apollo laughs. It's loud. "Welcome back to the world of the living, Nicole! You had yourself a serious spill out there! Lucky for you, you're half Divine! You've made a full recovery, just fine, and it's only been… four hours since you arrived. Just so you know, for your heroic journey and all."
"Mm. Yeah. That's not too bad, huh?" I struggle to sit up, blinking the sleep away. "Four hours. Slower than usual. How bad was it?"
"Quite bad, Nicole." Apollo, dressed in a white lab coat and a white suit underneath it, with a long white beard and even longer white hair like a late middle aged rock and roll retiree, gets up to carefully give me a warm hug. He's a God, so he's fucking huge. Like, massive. He gives great hugs. "But you're all better now. No need to fret."
He rubs my head and tousles my hair around, and I crack a weak grin. "Thanks. Seriously. But uh. How'd I get here, exactly?"
Sitting back down in the seat at my bedside, he flips through a clipboard and hums. "Well, an anonymous call placed you on location at the stadium at around three forty in the morning. Whoever it was said that you were belligerently drunk, stumbled backwards off the main stage, and hit your head on the floor so hard it cracked. The floor, that is."
"Bitch ass floor."
"Not half as hard as you are hardheaded!" He laughs again, checking my chart on the wall. "So, yes, the DMTs arrived on scene shortly after, by which point you were comatose, they loaded you for transport, and you hit the D-ICU at around four thirty. Asclepius was on staff and got you all fixed up."
"I forgot they're abbreviated to DMT…"
"Ah, yes, the divine medical technicians who deliver dimethyltryptamine! And that's all they do! I'd better pass that idea along to Dionysus." He chuckles. Apollo laughs a lot. I kinda love it. His joy is pretty infectious. "So, I should tell you. Ahem. Jane Doe. Your admission here is currently under wraps. Asclepius had the foresight to, of course, obscure your identity. So, only those of us in this medicinal realm of work are aware you're here."
"Ohhh, thank Asclepius," I groan with soul healing relief. "Thank you, thank you, thank you. Dad does not need to know about this. He'd blow out a fucking gasket."
"Doctor patient confidentiality," he sighs, scribbling something on the clipboard. "You won't like this, but I have to ask a couple screening questions, Miss Doe. How many days per week do you drink alcoholic–"
"Skip it."
"Aye, fair enough. Skipping it."
"Thanks. Uh. Hey, this whole quest thing? Transactions and stuff? Do I have to pay you somehow for this?"
"Ah. Not at all. A few centuries ago, maybe, but these days healthcare is exempt from that stipulation. In any case, you're all set to be discharged as soon as you're ready. I'll go ahead and clear you to leave at your discretion. I imagine you're eager to get back to your adventure, little hero!"
"Yeah, I'd better follow up on that shit. Where–What was the location? Where was I?"
"Highland Gardens Stadium. As for why? I'm not–"
"Anna's fifth test," someone says at the door. A shadow enters my hospital room, one as equally huge as Apollo, dressed in an immaculate white chiton with black hair as long as weeping willow branches flowing behind her. With a voice like dark magic, like wind through tombstones, like utter fucking perfection, Hecate adds, "You were there to complete that trial of hers."
I'm speechless, frozen, jammed up.
Gay panic doesn't even fucking describe it.
"Ah, there you are," says Apollo as he stands up. "Care to take over? I'm on my break, and I should get back up there at the reins, or Ra and Surya will never let me hear the end of it."
"Mhm. Get out."
"Good to see you, Nicole," he chuckles, pats me on the head again, then departs. I can't tell if it's done on purpose or not, it is possible that Aphrodite has been spilling my secrets, but my big brother Apollo leaves me all alone with Hecate.
I need to say something witty, but I'm still frozen in place.
"Nicole Astoria, drunk and disorderly," muses Hecate, Goddess of medicinal drugs, then checks the clipboard Apollo handed to her on his way out. "Hardly a surprise, is it? He's clearing you for discharge, and… Hm. You dodged him on the alcohol abuse disorder screening. No explanation needed. But it's been a while since your last run of the classic nine, and you're not escaping me that easily."
Hecate shuts the blinds, thank the Goddess, then sits at my bedside. Her eyes are infinite black voids, speckled with thousands of tiny stars. She smells like lavender. Oh, Gods, it's really her. She's here. Right beside me.
I'm only wearing my sports bra and leggings.
I think she might be checking me out.
Her gaze drops down then up. "Cat got your tongue?"
I slowly bob my head. Pretty sure my eyes are saucers.
"Alright, then you just stop me if your answers to any of these are not 'every single fucking day'." She sits back in the chair, putting her feet up on my bed and crossing her legs at the ankles. Holy legs, man. "Little interest or pleasure in doing things. Feeling down, depressed, or hopeless. Trouble falling asleep, staying asleep, or sleeping too much. Feeling tired or having little energy. Poor appetite or overeating. Feeling bad about yourself or as if you're a failure. Trouble concentrating on things. Moving or speaking so slowly others have taken notice, or the opposite. Thoughts that you would be better off dead or of hurting yourself in some way. Anything?"
I slowly shake my head.
"Every single day, for all of those?"
I slowly bob my head.
"Twenty seven out of twenty seven…" She takes a couple notes on my papers. "Congratulations. You aced it. Perfect score. I'm having you committed."
"Wait, what? Wait, wait, wait, not again! Heyyy! Nooo!"
"Thought that'd get you talking," she smirks, taking another note. "One more question. Do you have a plan or the means to hurt yourself or others, Miss Doe?"
"Nope! I've never planned anything in my life!"
"Second… degree… murder… risk." She swipes her pen to underline it. "Lovely. You can leave now. Probably best to go sooner rather than later."
Well, now I don't want to. I'm alone with fucking Hecate.
But Anna. Gods, and I keep getting derailed.
I need a second. Just a second or two.
Running my hands through my hair, I let out a heavy sigh and a pitiful groan. "Can't believe I knocked myself out like that. I was on a roll too."
"Were you?" She's totally just lounging now, slumped back in the seat with her eyes closed. "Then get back on it. She's waiting."
"I know, I know, it's just…" I take another deep breath and let my hands fall in my lap, half dissociated staring at the blanket folds. "Fuck. I just keep…"
Wait. What am I doing?
I'm not about to whine like a bitch in front of Hecate.
"Uh. Yeah. I keep getting sidetracked." Dragging myself out of bed and onto my feet, I stretch out my stiff, aching, miserable body and get my shit together. "Better get back to it."
"Mmm. Yeah. Back to it…"
I pull my hoodie on and toss my backpack over one shoulder. At this point, I just wanna get out of here. I'm not in the right headspace to even try to flirt with her, and I'm honestly just fucking embarrassed. If I'd been cut in half by a cockatrice or something at least I'd have a story to tell her, but my dumbass just fell over drunk.
I'm the one who makes other girls feel nervous. But Hecate is the one who makes me nervous. Like, 'oh no I gotta get outta here' type shit. Like, middle school first crush type shit. Like, fluttery and flustered type shit.
"What are you doing?" she asks me, brows furrowed.
"Huh? Oh." I hover in place, too nervous to move just yet. "To… To get back on it? The–The rescue? Anna?"
She scrutinizes me for another few seconds, then relaxes and sits back, but she's still giving me a strange look. "Go on, then. Go find Anna."
"R–Right. Yeah. Yeah, I–I mean, that's what I'm g–Like, because, uh, because you said… Just a second ago, you said something like it's better to go sooner rather than later. And, uh, well–Yeah, 'cause Anna's in that jam–I mean, Anna's in trouble, and I've got the–the–the… The quest. Yeah. Hero's journey. Type shit. Um."
The two of us stare at each other.
"Yeah, so, I–I should probably…" I manage to gesture toward the door. "Y'know. Just to…"
"Just to what?" Hecate stands up. She moves like a panther. Fluid and precise. Towering above me, she starts creeping closer. "Am I not worth your time? Hm? I'm so unimportant that you're just going to dash out on me right away? You stayed put and spoke to Apollo, didn't you? But not me."
Fuck, fuck, fuck, fear pulses through my heart as I realize I need to backtrack. "I–I'm so sorry, Goddess, I was just–I was just doing as you suggested. There was no–I promise there was no disrespect intended or… or…" I writhe in place with a sudden overwhelming discomfort. "Fuuuck… I fucked uuup. I'm so, so, so sorry, I–"
"Shhhh."
She's right in front of me, so tall I'm not even up to her waist. With a dark glint like a cat's eyes, her gaze is stabbing through me from way up there, like I've been impaled to the floor. But she's grinning slightly. And her index finger gently touches under my chin to lift it a little higher.
Hecate then purrs, "I'm fucking with you, Nicole."
I feel sick. And scared. "Ohhhh… Okayyy…"
"You chose correct."
"Uh. What? Wait…"
"You passed the sixth test. Anna said even if you wound up with a chance to be alone with me, you'd get right up and keep going. That's what you did. Like I said, good choice."
"Uh. Sixth test? I… I was on the… fifth one."
"Oh, shit. You didn't do it at the stadium?"
"I was trying to, but…"
"Whoops." Her laugh is dry and kinda sarcastic. Gods, she's perfect. "Okay, well, I'm not going to tell you the next location yet. Call me after you do the fifth one, then I'll tell you."
"Um. Are you mad at me?"
"No? I'm not mad at you. I was kidding."
I clench and unclench my hands. "Promise?"
"Promise. I'm impressed, actually. You really are serious about finding her."
"O-Oh." Now I'm sweating, flushed, and twice as flustered. "Wait, but… Wait. You were… And then I was… Um." I'm scared down to the core, but for a totally different reason. "You… You already… know? That… That I, um. That I… You?"
"That you me?" Hecate is smirking. "What are you trying to say, Nicole? Hm?"
She knows.
"Motherfucker!" I stamp a foot and groan as I flush even redder. "She told you, didn't she? Aphrodite! She told you! Fucking shit, man! Ohhh my Goddds…"
Drawing a smartphone from within her robes, Hecate taps a few times then hands it over to me so I can see whatever she pulled up. It's a muted video clip of Bloodmoon at their latest interview, the one where Hecate says she wrote their latest single to be a call to violence for the batshit insane yandere psycho bottom bitch lesbians of the world.
The top liked comment?
@sqtrmgrl: jfc she is so fucking perfect bruh I'M SO SO SO FUCJKNG IN LOOOOVE omfg she could fucking [WEBNOVEL CENSOR: GRAPHIC DESCRIPTION OF VIOLENCE] like i want this perfect perfect perfect woman to drop a fucking building on me or run me over with her fucking car and then bakc up and do it again before driving off and leaving me [WEBNOVEL CENSOR: GRAPHIC DESCRIPTION OF VIOLENCE] jesu d fuck ojh m y gooooddddddd fuuuuuuuuuck meeeeee PLEASE HECATE FUUUUUUCK!!!!!!!! I LOOVE YOUUUUUUUUU GAHHHHHHHDHFHGHGHHA MARRY MEEEEEE 😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭
I continue to stare at the comment, lost for what to say. "Um. Wow, that's… Wow. Uh…"
She takes her phone back. "I could pull up a dozen more of these kinds of comments, if you want."
"I am once again keenly aware of the dangers inherent to social media…"
"If it's any consolation, I think it's hilarious. I actually have a folder dedicated to the most unhinged comments you've posted about me. But no matter how much I save to it, nothing tops the one. You know the one."
"Gods, I caught so much heat for that one…"
"That tends to happen when a popular celebrity icon says she wants me to beat her half to death in the streets of Berlin and drag her by train to Auschwitz, then [WEBNOVEL CENSOR: IT'S JUST FUCKING HEINOUS 😭]."
I'm trying not to laugh. It isn't working. Shit, it's hot in here. "I was in a manic episode… I just… think you're really cool…"
"Sure you do, you little freak," she chuckles, stashing her phone in her chiton. "I think you're cool too. A mess, but a cool mess. Your unhinged antics are wildly entertaining."
"You…" I gape up at her, stunned stupid. My neck is starting to hurt from looking up so high. "You, like… Wait, do you follow me on Grapevine?"
"Yeah? Obviously. You're on my favorites list too."
Gay panic. No, gay terror.
"Uh! Okay! Well! Okay! I–I didn't know that! Oh, Gods, I didn't know that! Ahhhh! Okay! Um!" Again, I'm frozen, and we stare at each other for several long seconds. She's grinning, but I'm in the beginning stages of fight or flight. "Um! I gotta go! A–Anna, and stuff! Sorry! I love you! Like, a lot! Bye!"
I get the fuck up outta there in a flash.