The world ends with a bang, they say. Or a whimper, depending on how melodramatic you are. Elsa happens to think it's bullshit, because her world is ending right then and there, not with a bang nor a whimper, but with the red-headed girl standing in her doorway, grinning up at her like the world is full of sunshine and puppies.
She looks down at her sister, and resists the urge to slam the door shut and go back to the comforts of her shit instant coffee and the shit cartoon and the shit cigarette in her shit living room. Also, the hangover. This girl is letting way too much daylight in.
"Tell me why I shouldn't close the door on your face," Elsa says.
"Because if you do I'll bang at it as loudly as I can and maybe scream about being a scorned lover and maybeeee break a few windows while I'm at it?" replies Anna, still grinning so brightly Elsa's starting to think she might lose her eyesight if this goes for much longer.
The pounding in her head increases and Elsa exhales, rubbing her temples. She stands aside and makes an impatient waving gesture with her hand, ushering Anna in before slamming the door shut, banishing the godawful sunlight. "Fine, have it your way. You always do."
If Anna hears the scorn in Elsa's voice, then it definitely doesn't look like it bothers her the slightest. Maybe she's getting better at hiding her emotions. Or maybe she's just inconsiderate, because she's already at the windows, opening them and ripping the curtains open to let a stream of far more potent sunlight in.
Elsa whimpers.
"Oh stop being such a baby," Anna says as she moves back towards the cushion, sitting herself smack dead in the middle. Elsa's place. "They say the sun is the most effective cure for hangovers, y'know. And healthy eating. And exercise."
"I think you mean alcohol. More alcohol is the best cure for hangover. You're letting the draft in and move over, you're at my place."
Huffing but otherwise quite obliging, Anna scoots towards the edge of the only couch in the place, and Elsa seats herself at her rightful throne. Her cigarette's burned down to its stub during the interruption, so she grabs the pack and lights another one, taking a long, slow drag before flicking the ashes of.
Peeking at the carton, Anna lets out a disgusted snort. "Pall Mall. God, you're smoking something so disgusting? Yuck."
Elsa looks at her. "And what would you know about cigarettes, Ms. Straight-A-Student?"
"I got an A minus last semester, actually. It hurts."
Elsa waits for the punchline. There's none.
"So you smoke."
A shrug. "When you're in college you try a lot of different things." And Elsa sincerely hopes that cigarettes are the worst of it. "You got some pot?"
Or not.
"Do I look like I can afford it?"
Anna shrugs again. "If hobos can afford drugs, I'm pretty sure you can."
Well, if that's the logic Anna chose, then Elsa's not sure if she can say anything back. So she goes straight to the heart of the matter. "Why are you here?"
"Mom misses you."
But not dad. She blows another smoke through her nostrils, inducing a frantic waving from Anna as she tries to banish it away. Elsa doesn't blame her. Pall Malls do smell quite disgusting, frankly. "I have a phone. She can call if she really misses me."
"You know that's not how they roll."
Of course she knows. "Well tell her I miss her too then," she says, deliberately sounding as insincere as possible. "Are you done? Because if you are the door's that way."
"Nope. I'm not."
Elsa tilts her head, giving the best are you fucking kidding me? look she can muster, and is about the say something when the door to her room cracks open and a red-head walks out, looking quite dishevelled and worse for wear.
They both crane their heads to look at this new arrival, and the woman stands still for a second, staring into the living room before giving the tiniest, guiltiest smile ever and rushes to the door and slams it behind her, tripping over a wayward cable on the way. It's quite possibly the most awkward walk of shame Elsa's ever seen, and she'd seen a few.
"Awkward," Anna says. "She's pretty, though."
And this is why Elsa doesn't want her here. Among many other things.
"Yeah whatever," Elsa says. She flicks another batch of ash. "Let's go get coffee. I need coffee."
Anna gives a pointed look at the coffee mug at the table, takes it and forces it in Elsa's hand. "You already have coffee."
"I meant real coffee." But regardless, she dutifully takes a sip anyway. Immediately regrets it. It's cold and it tastes like what she imagines tar and cement would taste like. She sets it back down on the table. "Let's go." She pats Anna's knees and starts to rise but a hand grabs her collar and pulls her back down. She shoots the offensive girl a death stare.
"We can't," Anna says with the brazen grace of not looking guilty at all. "They're telling to stay indoors."
What. "Who?"
"I dunno. The authorities. Look."
With that, Anna takes the remote control and presses the button to some news channel Elsa never bothers watching. SpongeBob's tirade or another about Patrick's stupidity is cut off, and instead of a living sponge there's a grim looking reporter staring down at them, babbling into her mic.
Eight out of ten. Would bang. Pity she's a blonde. Elsa never really likes blondes, or any other colours besides red, if that tells anything. It doesn't.
"Okaaay," Elsa drawls out. "The point, Anna?"
"The point is," Anna says patiently, "people are like, chewing on each other out there. You'd know this if you'd actually pay any attention to the world outside this room."
"Are you implying that I'm a shut-in?"
"Yep."
Oh. Okay then.
"Look, it's probably just bath salts. Psychotic druggies or not, I'm getting my coffee. You're welcome to stay here, but I'm locking the door. So you can crawl outside through the window if you want."
Anna lets out a sigh, but she stands anyway, smoothening the drapes of her skirt. "Fine. Don't tell me I didn't warn you when someone eats your face though. Wouldn't wanna lose ya y'know."
What a liar, Elsa wants to say. But she smirks and says instead, "don't worry. I can run faster than you."
"Bold claims from a nerdy shut-in."
"Shut your face, snowflake."
-x-x-x-x-x-
To her surprise, the coffee shop is nearly empty besides themselves and a few other handful of patrons. Either the world's gone to hell because people no longer need their morning caffeine fix, or the quality of their coffee's shot down to crap since the last time she's been here. Somehow the latter is more alarming.
Anna creeps up beside her, joining Elsa at staring into the café through the glass pane. "They don't seem… very busy, are they? You sure the coffee's good?"
"Last time I checked," Elsa says grimly, pushing the door open and stepping inside. She holds the door for Anna and gets a thanks in return. "It better still be the case. No one does mochas like they do."
Anna still looks doubtful. "Uh-huh. If you say so. We getting breakfast?"
"Yeah."
A whole platter of full English breakfast is definitely in her plans. Despite the failure of a walk of shame, the woman was definitely more than demanding yesterday. Her forearm still feels slightly stiff.
She walks up to the counter, weaving through the mess of empty tables and chairs.
"A mocha and a full breakfast," she says at the guy on the counter by way of greeting. "What do you want Anna?"
"The same, please."
The guy does his thing with the register and looks up. "That'd be twenty-two dollars and ten cents. Cash?"
"Yeah; gimme a sec." She starts to fish for her wallet, but stops short when she realises she's left it at home. Cursing under her breath, she angles herself towards Anna, arm propped casually against the counter. "Sorry. Seems like I've forgotten my wallet. Mind paying for this? I'll pay you back."
At this Anna giggles as she starts to pull out her wallet from her handbag, counts the cash and hands an exact change to the guy. "You haven't changed at all, Els. Bet you'd forget your own head if it isn't screwed on so tight."
Rolling her eyes, Elsa grabs the pole with their order number and strides back out. Part of the reason she likes this café? Outdoor tables to smoke at. Quite a rarity these days. She chooses the one farthest away from the street and plops herself down, setting the number on the table. Anna follows suit, setting her handbag primly at the empty seat between them.
"Don't worry about that by the way. My treat," Anna says without segue.
"I'll pay you back."
Sighing, Anna slumps forward and rests her cheek on her palm. "Bull headed as always. But I insist. If you don't want that, don't forget your wallet next time."
Elsa's pretty sure there's no next time. Not if she can help it. But being bull headed runs in the family, that kettle. "There's only so much room in my jeans. And that's reserved for smoke."
Anna grins. "Maybe if you'd stop wearing skin-tight clothes you will. Did you see how he was looking at you while you were walking out? If I had a fan I'd fan his face right there. Poor guy."
"Don't care. Don't swing that way."
Anna's eyebrows rise. "I thought you swing both ways?"
"Only in the most desperate of times."
The grin still sticks to Anna's face like goddamned superglue. "And I thought us whippersnappers are the ones who should be hormonal. You're not setting a very good example as a big sis, Els."
Of course she doesn't. That's why she's the estranged daughter, after all. "We all have needs, Anna. I think you know what I'm talking about."
The girl looks away and pretends she doesn't. Elsa doesn't blame her – she's going into deep, treacherous waters here, breaching on a memory they both remember but feigns ignorance of. Maybe Elsa's just testing the waters, maybe she just wants Anna to go the fuck away, back to her nice middle-class life, her nice boyfriend.
The smell of mocha wafts through the air and the counter guy is there again, cutting through the awkward silence like an unwanted intruder. He takes the cups from the tray and places it on the table in front of each of them, then slides two napkins to follow. Unlike Anna's, Elsa notices that her napkin has a phone number scribbled on it.
She glances up at him, meeting a nervous smile before he scuttles back in.
"Wow, you're popular," Anna says as she takes the napkin and scrutinises it. "Gonna give him a call? He's kinda cute. And tall."
Just like how Elsa likes her women red haired, Anna likes her men tall and broad. She supposes that's the natural order the world, with her being the deviant and Anna being Anna. Good natured, straight A student, mommy and daddy's princess.
Stretching her hand, Elsa pinches the napkin from Anna's grasp and immediately sets on to wiping the imaginary dusts from the table with it, number face down. Then crumbles it and throws it into the ashtray before taking a sip of her mocha. Still tastes the same. Thank god.
"Whoa that's—" Anna starts, flabbergasted. "That's just cruel, man. I get you're not interested in him, but you don't need to do that. Poor dude. Why'd you do that?"
"Because." And that's a perfectly valid reason. Just because is all she needs to explain most of her actions. It's not like she's running across the street, skirt torn, screaming her head off.
Like what exactly a woman is doing right now.
They both stare at the commotion, Anna stunned and Elsa indifferent. Someone's chasing a woman – a businessman with blood on his shirt, it looks like it. There are shrieks and screams but no one's made any move to stop the man.
Who knew bath salts are so prevalent, these days.
"What the hell," Anna says.
Elsa only thinks that maybe they should go inside now, because those two are getting quite close, the woman running and angling straight towards them, the safe haven of the café's doors. The man is missing a chunk from his neck. Fucking bath salts.
Without another word, she grabs Anna's arm and starts to drag her inside. It's like trying to drag a rock, because the arm is attached to a woman motionless in shock.
"Did you see… did you see his neck? Oh my god Els his neck."
"It doesn't matter! They're coming here so move it you stupid girl!" Composure lost, Elsa is nearly shouting. They're close, so close. People are running away left and right and they're sitting there like two bloody morons, staring at the charging pursuer and pursued. She tugs again and Anna finally relents, fumbling upright as she tries to grab a hold of her handbag.
Elsa yanks her harder and is about to tell her to just fucking leave that fucking thing, but she can't, the words dying in her mouth as the table adjacent to theirs and its chairs topples and crashes. An errant chair hits her right on the shin and she would've yelped, if she isn't so transfixed at the bloody sight in front of her.
Bloody. Literally.
The woman is sprawled on the ground amidst the rubble, the man on top of her. His neck is dripping blood everywhere, his jaws gaping open as he cranes his neck down…
And bites off her nose.
Anna's arm goes limp in her hand, and Elsa can only say: "fuck."