A.N. My sister dragged me to watch HSM3. This is what my addled brain came up with later that night after too much caffeine. So far off cannon, it's not even funny.
No Longer Falling
Ring around the rosy, a pocketful of posies...
That childhood rhyme has always haunted me. I read about how it evolved from the devastation of the Plague in the 13th century.
Ashes, ashes, we all fall down...
I used to pretend to be dead, even when I didn't know that was what the rhyme was alluding to. In those few moments of death, I could pretend to be free. Free from my father's expectations and harsh fists. Free from the all-encompassing need to protect my sister from that same man. Free from the longing and sad remembrances of my mother's soft touch and love.
Ring around the rosy...
The rhyme has become a mantra, driving me to be that perfect little clone my dad demands. Its the mantra that keeps me there, the body that protects my sister from my father's harsh fists and awful words. She's beautiful and innocent. I'm not going to let anyone taint her with darkness. It's too late for me.
A pocketful of posies...
I remember the one time I tried to tell someone what was going on. It was Chad's dad. I opened my mouth, ready to tell, ready to show everyone my bruises and scars, but then I noticed the man's eyes. He was innocent, too. I shut my mouth. I wasn't going to spread my ugliness. This was my fault, and my responsibility. I would bare it alone.
Ashes, ashes...
I sing a lullaby to my sister while I watch her fall to sleep. She is so peaceful in her sleep, and sometimes, in moments of weakness, I wish I could sleep like that. Turning the light down low, I go through the nightly precautions, locking the door from the inside, pushing her desk in front of the door, and then crawling out her window onto the nearby tree, the window latching into a lock from the inside. I'm glad my sister has her own bathroom, and that she follows my precautions. I knock on her door in the morning when its safe to come out, after Dad's left early for work.
We all fall down...
The feeling of falling. On the court, when I trip, I recall every single time my father's fists have brought me to the ground. Sometimes I think my life is one never-ending fall.
Ring around the rosy...
A desperation settles in me when I notice I have two years before I graduate. All I can think of is how my sister won't be protected anymore, and that's when the rhyme comes back stronger than ever. Researching for a project, I come across information about poison. And even though my stomach rebels at the thought, it is the only way out I can think of. I research into the many different poisons and come across the perfect one, the one that is untraceable. I don't hate my dad, but I can't let my sister become the ugly, twisted creature I am. The poison will make her an orphan, but its for the best. He will never poison her.
A pocketful of posies...
I lay flowers on the grave like any dutiful son. Tears of relief, not grief, slowly make their way down my face. Chad's family takes us both in. They're all so nice. But, I am so broken and ugly.
Ashes, ashes...
"What are all these scars, Troy?" Chad's mother, Dianne asks. I spin around. She's standing in the doorway, staring at me as if she no longer knows me.
I bow my head in shame and fear. She knows now what a freak I am. I hope she'll still let me see my sister. "Nothing, Mrs. Danforth," I reply. The lies that have always been so easy are suddenly difficult.
"Your sister has been having nightmares," Dianne continues.
My eyes snap up, "Annie's having nightmares! Is she okay? What's wrong? Does she need me to come sing a lullaby to her?" I can't help the rushed questions, the sudden fear that I've let my sister get hurt.
"She's okay, Troy. Her nightmares are about someone hurting you." The soft words are caring, but they cut to the heart of the matter. "You would tell us, Troy, if someone was hurting you?" her words are in a question, and I suddenly want to reassure her because it looks like it hurts her to think someone has been hurting me.
"Not anymore. The man that was hurting me isn't here anymore, Mrs. Danforth." I stare at my hands, flinching when she brings her arms around me in a hug.
We all fall down...
Mr. Danforth takes me aside the next day. He thanks me for confiding in them, and tells me he's sorry that he wasn't able to help me before.
When I start the next year of school, Mr. and Mrs. Danforth get me to see a counselor. I start to see that I was wrong. I didn't have to deal with it alone. I don't tell a soul about the poison, though.
And then, I meet Gabriella. The rhyme stops repeating in my head. I stop dreaming of death and darkness, and finally step into the light.
I'm no longer falling.