several hours passed and the pale gold spears of dawn had already begun to slice through the darkness. lisp had floated off to sleep a long time ago, shortly after the sounds from the other room quieted and were drowned out by the hum of the ventilation and buzz of the television below, probably left on as the watchers slept. indie was the only one awake, sitting in the slowly brightening room. the sunshine poured through the window, killing the beautiful shadows that lay in the corners. indie winced as the light touched her eyes. where had her darkness gone? the soft, dark, friendly night that had blanketed her in its rich warm folds. shielding her eyes from the impending glare, she pulled down the blinds. the darkness returned, much to her delight. she became aware of the pain in her joints from having sat in the same position all night. misery had sustained her through the night, and now, in the daylight, desperation took its place. she clawed at her eyes, her neck, pulling the skin. a stream of blood cells burst thinly at the skin’s surface. she pulled at her hair, the pain streaking through her scalp, already bleeding. her skin suddenly felt rough and dry, thick, as if years of dead skin had accumulated. cranky and annoyed, she scratched it, trying to pull it off. the knowledge that she had slacked off again added to her annoyance. she felt angry because she was ugly and old and simply disgusting. small, bright red pearls beaded on her skin. she reached out her tongue to catch the carmine red drops of warm, thick sweetness. a disembodied laugh escaped her shredded throat as she caught a glimpse of herself in the hall mirror. courtney love’s voice repeated the same line over and over in indie’s head. take everything, take everything, take everything, i want you to... indie started crying. sobs convulsed her body, each breath she took wracked her body. she cradled herself, rocking back and forth, engulfed in depression. someone stirred next door; it was mohawk. mohawk was a light sleeper and woke at the sound of indie’s moans. he stopped suddenly in the doorway, repulsed and scared by the sight of indie, her face streaked with blood and tears. he wasn’t quite sure what to do except guide her to the bathroom to wash off the grotesque mask. he shoved her into the shower, clothes and all, and turned on the cold water. the blast of freezing water hit indie, knocking her back into relative reality. she gingerly touched her face, rubbing off the brown-red marks, assessing the damage she had done to herself. she turned off the water and stepped dripping wet out of the shower. mohawk wrapped her in a towel and patted her face dry. he led indie downstairs, leaving a wet trail behind. in the sunlit kitchen, he made her sit while he made her some tea. it was earl grey; she could smell the bergamot. indie smiled in her mind. mohawk, who was quiet and introverted, who was scared by overly outgoing people, was now taking care of her. she felt surprisingly safe and secure with him. he set down the cup in front of her and left, returning moments later with dry clothes for her. he sat down opposite her, his eyes questioning yet unintrusive. indie ignored his question and stared into her cup, her fatigue and need for sleep catching up to her. mohawk broke the silence.
“get out of those wet things and change after you’ve finished your tea.” he ordered. indie nodded. she looked at him, and impulsively felt the need to touch him, the need to be touched by him. slowly, deliberately, she unwrapped herself from the cocoon of soggy towels and started to slide her dress off. mohawk looked up at her briefly, unsure of what he wanted, unsure if he wanted to take it. indie stepped closer to him, laying a hand on his shoulder, her breasts inches away from his face. mohawk looked away uncomfortably and got up.
“i can’t, ind, now that i have skater...” he murmured. indie wasn’t offended; she knew that mohawk adored skater, and even indie felt that they were destined. she shrugged and proceeded to change into her dry clothes while mohawk looked the other way. at least she had tried. indie touched his shoulder. he turned and gathered up the sopping mass of clothes. he led her downstairs and went into the laundry room to dump the clothes into the washer. returning to indie’s room, he tucked her into bed beside neo who still smelled strongly of smoke. indie turned her face into her pillow and gave a sleepy smile to mohawk before he bounded back up the stairs and back to the room where skater lay waiting for him.
*
indie woke later that day to find the house silent with heavy quietness, its occupants still victims of the previous night’s escapades. she was tempted to go back to sleep, but the need to know the state of her face was stronger. she pushed herself out of bed with much difficulty, trying not to disturb neo who was silently drooling into her pillow. creeping towards the mirror, she suddenly became afraid of what she might see. tentatively, she peeked at the mirror which reflected her face, pink with superficial scratches. already the scratches had hardened into thin brown scabs. the scratches weren’t deep, but they were many. it left the impression that her face was a broken vase, glued back together with the seams still showing. indie winced at her ugliness and wondered what had possessed her to mutilate herself. she wondered what she could do to cover it. a sound caught her ear; the television was on. hadn’t mohawk turned it off after putting her to bed? she couldn’t remember. not wanting to waste electricity, she tiptoed up the stairs to turn it off. no, the sound was more than the television. someone was making snuffly sounds. she cautiously made her way into the living room and was greeted first by a grin, then by a look of surprise.
“whoa, indie, your face...” zero gasped. indie cringed at her reaction. something beside zero moved; it was another person. the face didn’t register, but he looked expectantly at her.
“i don’t suppose you remember, indie.” he asked. indie frowned slightly as her mind worked sluggishly to try to recall who he was.
“it’s redneck. you remember him, don’t you? you met him a few months ago, at mech’s.” zero prompted. a vague memory stirred in indie’s mind. wasn’t zero going out with him at one point? she hadn’t heard much about him; redneck lived four hours away from the city. she wondered why he was here.
“oh, of course...i’m sorry,” she said absentmindedly. she stood there in uncomfortable silence. “well, i was going to check on lisp. nice to see you again,” she added hastily, retreating from the room, suddenly conscious of her face. redneck nodded in acknowledgment. indie went upstairs to the empty room, noticing for the first time that the house was remarkably cleaner since she last remembered it. indie pushed the door open tentatively. it creaked loudly. indie peered into the dim room. lisp was still sleeping soundly. her makeup was streaked with leftover traces of tears, her hair tangled and spread in a mass on the unmade mattress. her skirt had twisted itself up around her waist, exposing her pale legs darkened with stubble. indie thought about waking her up but put a discarded sweater over her instead. she creeped back out and entered the room to her left where mohawk and skater were a tangle of arms and legs. the smell of stale sex floated in the room. the memory of neo haunted her mind, but she pushed him out of her thoughts. he had come to her because he couldn’t have The Girl; she had been second choice, assuming that neo could still make choices while drunk. the realization hit indie, and the queer feeling of misery settled into her stomach. she didn’t love him the way she would have liked to , but it always hurt to be a reject. indie shook it off as best as she could and headed down to the kitchen to pour herself a cup of cold, day-old coffee. she knew her stomach would soon reject it and she would spend fifteen minutes retching violently into the toilet. she didn’t mind; she rather liked the feeling of nausea. her neglected texts sat dejectedly on the table; indie picked one up randomly and resumed where she had left off: planetary motion. she wished that she were on another planet, perhaps another universe at that moment. a warm breath danced on her neck seconds before a chin rested on her shoulder. indie automatically cringed at the touch but relaxed when she realized it was neo.
“whatcha doin’?” he asked. “physics? need help?”
“no, i’m okay...” she said, not quite sure of what she was feeling at the moment.
“sure? seriously, though. hey, you’re talking to an engineer here.”
“sure, a ‘geer who dropped out halfway through second year.” indie instantly regretted the words as they flew out of her mouth. neo moved away from her abruptly. he hadn’t wanted to drop out; he had gotten kicked out. he never said so - he was too proud for that - but everyone knew. he tried to make everyone believe that he dropped out to get a job, but even he couldn’t believe in his own lie. no one ever mentioned it, the way no one ever mentioned indie’s self-inflicted pain, lisp’s anger at being nothing more than a whore, redneck’s abuse of zero, mohawk’s obvious hate of others outside his sphere. they all had their lies, and it was against the rules to talk about it. neo poured out the old coffee and proceeded to make fresh coffee with his back turned.
“neo...” indie’s voice was soft and apologetic as she approached him. she touched his arm and he jerked it away violently. she’d lost him once again, but somehow she knew it wouldn’t be for long. she sighed, going back to her physics. dammit. she couldn’t concentrate. the frustration and tension increased with each passing silence. she couldn’t stand it anymore. she grabbed her coat, still lying on the floor in the doorway from the night before, and ran out of the house.
“neo? what happened with indie?” zero asked, looking at neo and then at the open door. neo didn’t answer and zero didn’t pursue the question. she closed the door, and hoped that indie wouldn’t go where she thought she would.
