Darkheart

The Past: Rhyme & Reason

Crystal had no memory whatsoever of the night she'd gone with the others to try to catch the resorters in the act--nothing beyond following Kevin and Heather into the casino. The next thing she knew, she woke up at home, in her bed, the time gap disconcerting though not nearly so much so as the blood in her bed. She was unsure how she'd managed to soak through all her products until she realized she wasn't using any, that somehow during the night, she'd removed but not replaced anything, and the implications of that--whatever might have happened in the time since, all the ways she might have embarrassed herself--horrified her.

The girl groaned. It'd leave a stain on the mattress, for sure. That frustrating what-do-I-do-first? feeling briefly overwhelmed her, but she ended up rolling her sheets and blankets into a ball and just leaving them while she walked awkwardly to the bathroom to shower and take care of herself.

Steam and hot water felt amazing. Crystal hadn't realized how much her body ached, how tired she was, until she got in there. She wasn't typically one for examining herself, unimpressed with and embarrassed by her nakedness as she was, but an impulse to glance down revealed that her lower stomach was marred with red splotches, almost as if she'd broken out in some sort of rash. Crystal rubbed at her skin and felt nothing out of the ordinary as far as itching or pain, but the color was unsettling, nonetheless, and it stretched across her waistline, disappeared in the curls below. Only when she left the shower and began to dress herself did Crystal realize that the redness was warm to the touch, as well; while the rest of her fair skin cooled, the rash (if that's what it was) remained fever-hot.

Crystal was perturbed, but there was no pain, so she chose not to tell anyone. What would she say, anyhow? She couldn't recall what she'd been doing the night before, and wouldn't her mother reprimand her for that? Surely it would go away on its own. If it worsened, she'd tell. That was how Crystal consoled herself, anyway, and once she was dressed and had scrubbed her mattress as much as was reasonable, she managed to forget the redness on her skin, because more pressing concerns lay before her: she was signed up to work the breakfast shift, and the clock was ticking.

Padding down the stairs, Crystal first made a stop in the laundry room to stuff her bedding in the washing machine and start it and then worked her way into the kitchen to begin rummaging about for peanut butter and jelly. She wasn't particularly hungry, but the dining hall workers weren't allowed to eat the food prepared for the resorters, and she knew she'd be starving within an hour and resentful of the people to whom she'd have to serve eggs benedict and omelets and parfaits.

Jess sauntered lazily through the kitchen, past Crystal, and into the den, where she turned on some cartoons. Tom had re-arrived the day before and taken his daughter out for lunch and mini-golf in Red Axe, and Crystal wanted to know how it'd gone (concerned as she was for her younger sister's well-being in light of her jack-in-the-box father), so she hastily returned jars and bread to their places and sat on the arm of the sofa, ignoring the television. "How was mini-golf?"

"Oh, fine."

"Who won?"

Jess looked at her for the first time since Crystal had come into the room, grinned mildly. "Duh, who do you think?"

"Yeah," Crystal returned her sister's smile. "Tom's not particularly athletic."

"He's kinda pathetic."

Crystal snorted, thought, lit up and returned, "Glad I don't share his genetics!"

The girls shared a laugh, and Crystal was happy as she ate her sandwich; everything felt all right, good, comfortable even. And there seemed to be an energy buzzing through her, humming beneath her inner organs. An image of things wet and red and full of glass bits hovered in her thoughts, but it vanished when Jess asked her a question.