miseen

The curtains are as thin as paper; their edges are ragged and torn, stained as yellow as the walls they rustle against, as cheap as the flat that Scarlett had managed to rent. Cracks creep up from under the baseboard molding. A cold breeze drifts through the air. Scarlett watches, almost fascinated: the curtains shudder and twist, struggling to escape the rods keeping them up.

She doesn't complain. She hasn't complained, either. That's what matters, isn't it? Scarlett thinks: and that's all that matters, isn't it?

Jade sits on the bed, her legs overhanging the edge, as steady as stiff trees in the wind. Her silhouette is backlit by the setting sun, the light dripping like water through the windowpanes. Her pale hair is near-orange. She towers over Scarlett: a shadow, an obsession, a poor little kitten with an injured little leg. It's been worse before. Both of them have been through worse -- before.

Scarlett kneels at Jade's feet, wiping away at the wound with what little disinfectant she keeps around. The towel is already soaked pink-red with blood. Jade turns her head away; Scarlett can hear the complaints already dancing on her tongue. Her skin is warm against Scarlett's fingers. She sighs, softly. The sound is just barely distinguishable from the cold wind.

It was your own fault, little lion. Didn't I tell you not to stray too far from our wonderful circus of two?

Shut -- the fuck -- up. Ow -- ah --

You're the one that needs to. I'm not losing blood.

Too dizzy to say anything in return, now?

Of course.

I can see how angry you are. Even when you're fighting to stay awake! You're not doing a very good job of hiding it, dear.

I'm -- not trying to.

Oh, really?

What about the other looks you pass my way?

What looks.

Dearest, you say so much more with your eyes than your words. So much more than you could possibly imagine.

Raise your leg, now.

Oh, that made you go quiet again.

If I'd known that it'd be this easy for you to shut up, I would've led you into a beartrap myself. The very first time we met.

And maybe a few times afterwards.

Just for fun.

You don't agree?

Stop -- talking.

You can do better than that.

Shut your fuck--ing mouth.

You'd be here. Anyway.

No matter how many times.

Here? Where, darling?

With me.

Scarlett's hair falls over her face as she leans down, pressing the cloth against Jade's shin the same way she's done time and time before. Wait for the bleeding to stop. Wait for Jade to look at her. Wait for Jade to say something to acknowledge her presence -- some verbal sign, it hurts or you're pressing too hard or you're doing that on purpose, you asshole -- sometimes laughing, sometimes scowling, only once crying.

She casts a glance upwards. Jade meets her eyes, as steadily as ever. Her irises are bright; her chest rises softly, up and down; Scarlett counts every breath for a minute, two -- before turning her face away.

The towel is cast to the side. Someone, somewhere in the distance is laughing; the sound trickles in through the open window, tinkling like glass against the walls of Scarlett's skull. Jade tilts her head back again, staring up at the popcorn ceiling. Scarlett almost tells her to give it up. She's stared at the shadows there herself a countless number of nights, and she isn't getting any closer to figuring out what they're trying to say.

Where else would I be, darling?

You're the one who should worry about being 'here.' With me.

So deep in the woods, nobody could hear you. Or help you.

Except --

-- for me.

Isn't that right?

So, so lucky that I wasn't too late.

I normally kill what I trap. It's a waste not to.

You know that, though.

I know that.

Does it make me a...

A what.

A fucking mon --

A monster! Exactly.

Isn't it cute, how I know what you're going to say?

Ugh.

Does it still hurt?

You want -- it to. Anyway.

Sure.

Sure?

Sure, I do.

That's -- you didn't say that from. From the beginning.

Ow!

See?

You -- you --

Monster, right?

I figured as much.

Are you falling asleep on me?

Scarlett moves to pick up the gauze. She pulls the first wrap too tight, waits for Jade to speak up. She needs to shut the window. The cold -- that woman's uproarious laughter -- it's becoming intolerable. Have they been here for that long? The sun's rays have hidden themselves below the neighbor's roof, the light barely pulling itself over the edges of the brick tiles.

Jade leans down. She doesn't say a word. She places her hands over Scarlett's, and they move together: draw the bandages once around her shin, twice, Jade is her guide in the dim light. The chill miasma of the night air floods the room, fills Scarlett's lungs with a choking feeling she doesn't know how to name. They move upwards, staunching the flow of blood, Jade's skin is nearly indistinguishable from the dim white of the comforter that she's sitting on, the curtains cut black gashes through the fading light, the shadows come together like the teeth of a beartrap, Jade and Scarlett move around her knee twice, Jade stops.

Scarlett pauses for a second too long. She knows it; she knows that Jade knows it, too. She cuts the end; drops the scissors, struggles to move for the tape to secure it; Jade leans over, plucks the roll of gauze from Scarlett's hands, Scarlett lets it go.

No.

Really, now?

I'm -- awake enough to do it myself.

Ha! I bandaged your leg, kitten.

I fucking did!

You don't have to force yourself, darling.

If you have to rest, you have to rest.

Or... are you still scared of me?

You want to do it all on your own?

Keep yourself away from your big, nasty beartrap?

You haven't killed -- me yet.

I should.

Your leg will take quite a while to heal, won't it?

That look...

Yes, that look again. The orange has drained from the windows, entirely; the two of them are swamped in the dim, cold blue of the night air. Jade still glows. She always does.

Scarlett pushes herself off of the ground. Her knees hurt; she still hasn't invested in carpets or rugs. She doesn't intend to stay. It isn't safe here, she isn't safe anywhere but the woods, and yet she's still -- here -- anyway. The towel is left limp on the floor, the blood already starting to dry, a red-brown crust forming on the cloth that she'll never be able to wash out.

Jade hands over the bandages, next. Scarlett drops them on the floor. Jade leans backwards; her head falls, then her chest, her stomach, settling back into the sheets, staring back up at the popcorn ceiling, staring up at Scarlett, her breath and sighs still soft, laughter still tinkling through the window, Scarlett stares down and all she can think about is how much she wants to devour her, how she wants to devour her, she wants to devour her, devour her, devour.

What.

What is it?

Just lost in your eyes again, darling.

Don't -- fucking give me that.

I'm hardly giving you anything. I'd like to keep them both to myself.

It's so... goddamn cold.

It's the blood loss.

"It's the breeze," Scarlett says, without thinking.

Jade narrows her eyes, offers her a confused expression.

Scarlett gets up, walks towards the window. She wrenches it downwards, pulls the curtains shut. She still remembers: the turn of her rusty key in each of her window locks, the way that the darkness of the forest drowns out all sound, the screech of those steel teeth as she wrenched them open. Jade's lucky she found her. She's lucky she was found. The room is dark, Jade's leg is bandaged, and she can leave, she's always had the choice, she didn't at first but she's sharp enough to know that Scarlett was giving her the choice and so why -- did she -- ?

I told you to rest, little lion.

And tomorrow our circus plays on.

And I'll wake up in yet another fucking bear trap.

Won't I?

You've been doing it without complaint so far, haven't you?

"Come here," Jade says.

She moves without thinking. Blood seeps through the gauze tightly wrapped around her leg.