if you're taking angsty prompts, do you think you could do one where misty was sexually abused as a child and is really struggling with it (maybe she even self harms), and one day something really triggers her off, and cordelia catches her so she tells her everything and cordelia helps her and tells misty that she's not dirty or worthless, and it has a really fluffy and happy ending with them falling in love?
I'm so tired of being here
Suppressed by all my childish fears
And if you have to leave
I wish that you would just leave
'Cause your presence still lingers here
And it won't leave me alone
These wounds won't seem to heal
This pain is just too real
There's just too much that time cannot erase
"If you tell anyone," he paused, grabbing the young girls chin, forcing eye contact, "I will kill you, but we don't want that to happen right?" The young girl trembled, tears falling from wide eyes as she stared up at the man. He grabbed a fistful of curls and jerked her head to side and back again,"I said, we don't want that to happen right?" She nodded, closing her eyes as she did so, willing herself to stop shaking. "Quit crying so much, it ruins it for me. Plus, you'll end up liking it anyway." He pried apart her thighs, ripping down her underwear; her favorite ones, the ones her momma had just bought her, with the butterflies and bows.
"Please don't." She tried to push him away, clawing and pounding at his chest. He cackled sickeningly, laughing as he placed his grimy hand over her mouth to silence her cries. The young girl crumpled in defeat, tears now falling freely as she squeezed her eyes shut, beginning to pray. She prayed just like momma had told her too when they were in church, fully believing that God would save her from this man but he didn't— no one did.
Misty sprang up in her bed, gasping for breath her hands flailing to grab onto anyone, anything. Her chest heaved as reality began to sink in; it was only a dream. She collapsed back into bed, her nightgown sticking to her sweat soaked back, tears forming in her eyes. Misty cringed, it was all so real. Even after all these years she could still feel his breath against her neck, the scratch of his beard upon her cheek. Her body shook as she cried, the panic swelling within her; she couldn't stop remembering.
"Stop crying or I'll do it harder."
The swamp witch was a little girl again, trapped under the body of the man who had taken her innocence. No, he did more than that. He stole her life. He had robbed her of everything she could have been if she wasn't plagued by her past. It was too much. Misty could feel the panic vibrating within her, rising up her throat. She couldn't breath; the air was stifling, thick with her past. She needed release. Misty reached over to her bed side drawer, her hands shaking as she searched for the only thing that could clear her head. She fumbled through the drawer, shoving aside various books and Fleetwood Mac CDs until her hand brushed the handle of her utility knife. Her fingers wrapped around the handle as she brought the blade to her wrist— no. The cajun's common sense ripped her from her daze, she couldn't cut there; she was living in the academy now and someone might see. She couldn't have someone seeing, what if they made her stop? The very idea of not being able to cut was something Misty couldn't fathom; it had been her savior for as long as she could remember. The swamp witch pulled up her night gown instead, revealing her thighs, bringing the blade down to clean ivory skin. She cut fast and she cut hard, mesmerized by the blade. Misty fell into the motions, getting lost in the white bubbles of fat and the blood that welled until it spilled over her thighs; the crimson contrasting harshly against her pale skin. The memories faded away with each slash, her head buzzing with adrenaline as she obtained an almost euphoric state. It didn't hurt— all she could feel was the heaviness of the air fading away as her body sagged with relief. Her breathing evened out, only to quicken again when she noticed the pools of blood that formed on the white sheets. "Shit." Misty grabbed tissues to sop up the blood on her thighs before getting up and stripping her bed of it's sheets. She crumpled the fabric into a tight ball, shoving it deep in her closet. She let out a silent curse, knowing she would have to get new sheets to cover up her activities. Peering at the clock, she decided it was early enough in the morning that she could get clean sheets without being seen.
The curly-haired witch opened her door cautiously, padding through the halls looking for a closet or cabinet that could possibly contain clean sheets. Realizing that it would take too long to guess and check, she decided she would go find the maid, her name was Delphine?. Regardless of her name, she would know where to get sheets. Misty trotted down the steps gingerly, peering around the halls looking for any sign of the maid. She shuffled into the kitchen, letting out a sigh of relief when she saw a figure illuminated by the fridge light. " Uh, Ms. Delphine?"
The figure jumped, startled,"Misty? Is that you?" The fridge shut revealing that it was the headmistress, not Delphine.
"Ms. Cordelia?" Misty suddenly felt incredibly vulnerable in her nightgown; she fidgeted with the fabric, hoping that there were no traces of her previous actions.
"You scared me, probably because I can't see but that's besides the point," Cordelia laughed bitterly at her own self-deprecation, "What're you doing up so early?"
"Oh um, well I'm was just lookin' for Ms. Delphine to get some clean sheets but—" The swamp witches's breath hitched in her throat as she spotted a small patch of blood that began to leak through her night gown. "B-but I'm just gonna go back up ta bed." Misty was grateful that Cordelia's blindness prevented the older witch from seeing the rapidly growing stain but she needed to get out of the kitchen before someone else saw.
"Oh, If you walk me there, I can show you where the sheets are," she reached forward, blindly grabbing ahold of the younger witches forearm, gasping as she was hit with a powerful vision.
"Shut up already." The man seized the younger girl's wrists in a bruising grip, preventing her from fighting back. He forcefully kissed her, muffling the girl's cries.
Just as quickly as the vision began, it ended. Misty ripped her arm from the Headmistress's grasp, her eyes wide and blinking rapidly, looking like a deer caught in headlights. She stumbled backwards before turning on her heels and running away from Cordelia.
The older witch stood in place, fighting for her breath, completely taken aback by the intensity of the vision. "Misty?!" Her only reply was the thumping of Misty's feet as she raced up the steps. Cordelia felt around for her cane, determined to chase after the girl.
Misty slammed her door shut, leaning against the wooden frame as she slumped towards the ground. What had Cordelia seen? She cradled her head with her hands, holding her breath when she heard footsteps walking towards her door. She could tell it was the headmistress; her cane clacking against the hard wood floors. Misty's muscled tensed, ready to hold the door shut with her weight if necessary, willing to do anything to protect her secret. Seconds crawled by as the Swamp Witch waited for Cordelia to open the door, yet nothing happened; her heart beat with anticipation. She let out a sigh of relief when she heard the older witch drop something then walk away. Misty waited until the clacking subsided before opening her door, curious as to what Cordelia dropped. There on the ground, was a set of clean sheets and a note; "If you ever need to talk, I am here" scrawled sloppily. She hastily picked up the sheets and walked back into her room. Cordelia had obviously seen something but Misty couldn't be certain what. Her heart continued to thump in her chest—out of fear or affection she could not tell. No one had ever offered to help her and then there was Cordelia, throwing her a life line without even truly understanding why the younger witch needed to be saved.
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A full week had passed before Misty had seen Cordelia again; she spent the majority of her time avoiding the headmistress, afraid that the older witch might have another vision. Of course, it had been easy to evade the other witch due to that fact that she was blind but now that Cordelia had been given new eyes by Myrtle, it was almost impossible to stay hidden.
The swamp witch was rummaging through the kitchen when she ran into the headmistress. Misty heard her voice before she saw her and she attempted to flee but it was too late; Cordelia had already seen her. She slouched, attempting to appear as small as possible as she slinked out of the room, carefully avoiding eye contact.
"Misty." The Cajun froze in her tracks. "I didn't see you down at breakfast this morning do you want me to make you something?"
"No thanks, I'm not hungry." She had to stop herself from sprinting out of the room—not that could, her body was beyond exhausted.
Cordelia looked at Misty; the girl seemed to be disappearing right before her eyes; clothes hung loosely on her frame and her cheekbones hollowed in. She tried to remember the last time she had seen Misty eat, going as far back as two days. With a frown, she insisted, "Let me make you some eggs or something."
Misty's stomached grumbled at the thought of food. She hadn't been able to eat since her last nightmare; the vivid memories stealing away her appetite. "Alright." she agreed with a shrug, figuring Cordelia couldn't have a vision just from touching her breakfast.
"Do you want anything on them?"
"It doesn't matter." Misty was indifferent, ready to eat just about anything to cease the growling in her stomach.
"Yea, It' doesn't matter," she teased, "you'll end up liking it anyway because I'm such a great cook." Cordelia laughed softly, attempting to lighten the mood. She just wanted to see Misty smile. That girl's smile could light up a room like nothing else and now that Cordelia had eyes, she wanted to see it for herself—not that she didn't love just hearing Misty's laughter.
Misty froze, the rest of Cordelia's sentenced lost to the blood roaring in her ears "You'll end up liking it anyway" . Her skin crawled and the room started to spin. "You'll end up liking it anyway" She could feel his breath against her neck; she had to get out of here. Misty sprung up from her seat and nearly ran out of the room not even giving Cordelia so much as a glance.
"Misty?!" Cordelia called after the her, "Where are you going?" She set the pan down, leaving the kitchen in pursuit of the girl. She ran up the stairs, hearing Misty's sniffles through the door. "Misty what did I do?" She was met with silence much like the other night. Hearing Misty's cries was terrible but knowing they were because of her was even worse. Silently, she vowed to herself that she wouldn't wait for Misty to come to her, next time she would persist. She would do whatever it took to help Misty, not just as a headmistress, but as human being.
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Lost and insecure
You found me, you found me
Lyin' on the floor
Surrounded, surrounded
Why'd you have to wait?
Where were you? Where were you?
Just a little late
You found me, you found me
"Momma I need ta tell ya somethin' but I'm really scared." Misty nervously fiddled with her hair, pulling the curls straight and watching the ringlets bounce back when she let go.
"What is it Misty? Stop playing with your hair or ya willl mess it up for church."
"That's tha thing Momma. I don't wanna go to church. I'm scared."
"Ya should never be afraid of God Misty," she smoothed over her daughters hair," He's here ta protect ya."
"I'm not afraid of God Ma, I'm afraid of Pastor John."
"Why? Don't be silly Misty, he's a great man."
"Momma he—." She stammered, hearing his threats in the back of her mind but she couldn't go to church and see him. Her eyebrows knitted together, tears welling in the corners of her eyes.
"Well spit it out child."
"Momma, Pastor John kissed me and he touched—" She was cut off by a harsh slap to the face; her ears ringing and cheek burning.
"Shut ya mouth," she grabbed Misty's hand and pulled her out the door, "Ya better pray in church that God forgives ya for tempting that good man. Ya tainted Pastor John. What will everyone say if they find out ya are a dirty sinner?" Misty held onto her cheek as they walked, tears continuing to fall. "Quit cryin' ya are gonna embarrass me in front of everyone." They arrived at the church; the wooden pew groaning under their weight as they took their seats. Mass hadn't started yet so the church was rather quiet, buzzing with small talk. Her body stiffened, his voice ringing in her ears. No this wasn't a memory, he was here, in the room. She squirmed in her seat, pulse racing as she heard footsteps approaching the pew.
"Well hello ladies, how are y'all this fine Sunday?" There he was; A wolf in sheep's clothing.
"Well good mornin' Pastor John we are doin this great ain't that right Misty?" Misty kept her head down, avoiding eye contact but nodding gently.
"She grows bigger everday Ms. Day. Do you mind if I have a talk with her for a minute, It's about the kids choir." Misty's head snapped up, her eyes wide and pleading with her mother to say no. Her hand clasped around her mother's wrist as she waited for a reply.
"Why of course Pastor John just bring her back in time for mass," she lowered her voice speaking into curls, "let go of my wrist and go with Pastor John."
"Come now Misty," he grabbed her hand, practically yanking her from the pew and pulling a cry from Misty's throat, "we'll be right back." He walked up the pews briskly, nearly dragging a trembling Misty with him. She turned back to look at her mother, praying for her to call her back to the pew but she never did. The pastor brought her back into the empty choir room, "Take off your shirt."
"No," her voice quivered, fresh tears making their way down her cheeks," Please no." He grabbed her sides in a bruising grip and began tearing at her shirt.
"NO PLEASE DON'T!" Misty cried out, thrashing under the covers, batting away the invisible arms that grabbed at her. She gasped for breath, chest heaving as she became fully awake. She whimpered, falling back into bed and wrapping the covers around herself in a suffocating grip. With white knuckles, she pulled the sheets tigher around herself, trying her best to stifle the fire burning inside her chest but it raged on, fueled by the memories of her past. The wildfire spread, burning up her throat and filling her with a black, vile smoke. She had to get it out, get rid of the smoke. Misty ripped away the covers, reaching around to her nightstand, echoing her actions from a week ago. Her nightmares always started in tears and ended in blood. She looked at her thighs, the cuts from last week not necessarily healed, some even appeared to be infected but she slashed away regardless. The fire subsided into a smolder, then fizzled out; the panic dissipating and smoke clearing. She slumped against the headboard, breathing heavily, eyes glazed over, watching blood run rivulets down ivory skin. A knock on the door pulled her out of her daze and threw her into another state of panic.
"Misty? Are you okay?" Cordelia pressed her head against the door, listening, "I heard you yell from down the hall." She awaited a reply, hearing a frenzied running around the room accompanied by a string of curses. "Misty?" She pondered whether to just go in or not; a sudden yelp and thump quickly making the decision for her. She twisted the knob, entering the room.
The swamp witch was in a heap on the floor, clutching her sheets to her body.
"Misty, what happened? are you okay?" She slowly approached the girl on the ground.
"No!," she stared at Cordelia, looking more like a cornered wild animal than a young witch, "Don't come any closer. I'm fine just go."
Cordelia stood her ground, sticking to her silent promise. "Misty what's wrong you can tel— is that blood?"
The swamp witch scrambled backwards, pushing herself against the wall and farther away from Cordelia, "No," her voice quivered, foreshadowing her oncoming tears, "Please just go away." She had fallen into an absolute panic, heart beating out of her chest and body trembling violently.
"Misty, I can see that you're bleeding, what happened?" She walked closer, "And I'm not going away so stop asking me to leave. Can't you see that I want to help you?"
Her head fell against the wall with a thump, tears making their way down her cheeks as she gave in. This was it. She been caught. The secret she had held on to for so long of her life was finally going to become public knowledge; everyone would see how pathetic she was.
Cordelia walked forward cautiously, her eyes growing wider as she followed little droplets of blood over to the corner by Misty. "Where are you bleeding?" The swamp witch closed her eyes, face scrunched in pain; emotional or physical Cordelia couldn't tell. "Let me see." She reached forward tentatively, grabbing ahold of the sheet Misty had clutched to her body and pulling away slowly. Cordelia clapped a hand over her mouth, eyes like saucers as she took in the sight previously hidden by the sheets. The younger witch's thigh was littered with cuts, some deep gashes and other's healed over. Cordelia didn't need to ask; she could tell they were self-inflicted. Her heart broke, looking at the blubbering swamp witch. She wished she could have gotten to her sooner. "Come on Misty, come with me." She grabbed the swamp witches's forearms, pulling her from against the wall.
Misty whimpered, tears still falling from her eyes. "Why Miss. Cordelia," she sniffled, "Why are you helping me?"
"Because I know what it's like to be in that dark place. Now come with me, let's get you cleaned up."
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Misty sat in the bath, listening to Cordelia shuffle around the room.
The headmistress peaked her head in the door, "Are you okay in there?" Misty nodded weakly, sinking into the bubbles. "Okay I have some clothes for you and when you get out we'll take a look at your leg." Cordelia dropped the clothes by the bath and shut the door, leaving Misty to soak by her lonesome.
A small piece of her cried out for Cordelia to stay but she kept her mouth shut, puzzled by her desire for companionship—something she had lost after years of isolation from her peers. The water sloshed over the sides of the tub as fully submerged herself; she could stay this way, just drown herself. It seemed better than facing the mess that waited for her behind the bathroom door. Misty let out air, opening her eyes and watching the bubbles go to the surface. Her lungs started to tighten, aching for air when she thought of Cordelia; the way the headmistress's face crumpled when she saw Misty's cut up leg. She couldn't have Cordelia find her in the tub, not like this. She came back to the surface, lungs burning as she greedily sucked in air. Later. When Cordelia's not around. She climbed out of the tub, damp curls sticking to her shoulders as she toweled off. Misty grabbed the clothes left for her, shrugging the shirt on over her shoulders. She was overwhelmed by the scent emanating off of the t-shirt; it was a mixture of lilac and what she suspected to be an expensive perfume. Misty pulled the collar of the t-shirt up to her nose, inhaling deeply; she couldn't quite put a label on the smell. It was sweet and soothing and so..so...utterly Cordelia. She blushed, embarrassed that she was sniffing Cordelia's clothes like some creep. Oh shit, Cordelia. Waiting outside. "Miss. Cordelia?"
"I'm right here," Cordelia opened the door with her hip, hands preoccupied with a first-aid kit, " Does everything fit okay? I didn't think you'd want me to go through your room so I just grabbed some of my clothes." She nearly tripped over her words, clearly anxious.
Misty looked down at the t-shirt; it was a little snug but she couldn't complain, not when Cordelia was going out of her way for her. If she was being honest with herself, she actually preferred Cordelia's clothes; the occasional waft of lilac giving her a sense of security she couldn't quit describe. "Everythin is fine, thank ya." She stared at the ground, finding it nearly impossible to look Cordelia in the eyes.
"Okay good. " The air was heavy with awkward tension, neither witch sure of how to go about tending to Misty's wounds. "Um, you can sit on the edge of the tub if that's comfortable for you?" Cordelia shuffled over the tub, pulling the plug to drain it and setting a towel down for Misty to sit. Her stomach lurched as she watched the blood-tinted water swirl down the drown. She hated herself for not chasing after Misty before. She could have—no, should have helped her. "Take a seat."
Misty sat against the edge of the tub, squirming uncomfortably. Her leg bounced; the panic rising with every second of silence that ticked by. What will Cordelia say when she gets a good look at your leg?
"Misty," Cordelia's eyes flickered, looking anywhere but at the swamp witch in front of her, "Can you take off your pants, so um I can see your leg?"
Misty nearly choked. "Miss. Cordelia, I-I-I uh, I gotta go" She shot up, only to be lowered by Cordelia's hand's on her shoulders, gently forcing her back down.
"Misty let me see, please." She grabbed Misty's hands, cradling them in her own. "I want to help you but I can't unless you let me." Her voice was coarse with emotion, "Please let me help you." She let Misty go twice now and she wasn't going to do it again; she had to help her.
Misty blinked back tears, raising her hips to slide off her pants. It didn't matter that she was still in her underwear; she felt completely naked, all her secrets on display. Angry red lines screamed out against the pale skin of Misty's thigh. She searched Cordelia's face for the shame and disgust that she felt.
Cordelia bit back a gasp, completely unprepared. Her jaw clenched, fighting against tears. She had always thought Misty was a free spirit and even admired the joy that seemed to radiate off of her. But the younger witch had fooled her like she fooled everyone and was suffering right under Cordelia's nose. How could she let this happen to one of her girls?
"Miss. Cordelia?" Misty fidgeted under the headmistresses gaze, itching to tear at her skin.
"I, uh, think some of these are infected and this one," she pointed to a particularly nasty cut, "Is going to need stitches." Cordelia hesitated, hand hovering above Misty's wounds. She wanted to cry, to hold Misty and make all of the cuts and scars disappear. But she couldn't, so she settled on running her fingers over the delicate skin, outlining the raised scar tissue and avoiding the still open cuts. "I'm so sorry," she rasped, feeling completely responsible.
Misty nearly flinched; goosebumps rising as Cordelia's fingertips practically left her skin singed. She wanted to grab Cordelia's wrist, force her to stop but she couldn't. As much as the contact made her want to run away, the way the older witches's fingers glided over her skin reminded her of the sting of the blade and as sick as it was, she took pleasure in the burn. Her shoulders slouched as she began to relax, nothing more could go wrong—Cordelia had seen the worst of Misty and hadn't run away.
Cordelia awkwardly cleared her throat, breaking both witches out of the daze they had fallen into. "I'm going to start, is that okay?" She searched blue-green eyes, not beginning until she had consent. "This is going to sting a little—okay a lot. It's going to disinfect and numb the um, area, so I can stitch it without hurting you, okay?"
Misty nodded, stiffening her posture to prepare for the pain. She still couldn't believe that Cordelia was here, face to face with almost all of Misty demons—all except for him.
"Okay, here I go." Cordelia watched Misty's face, looking for signs of discomfort as she smeared the herbal mixture over the cuts. Suddenly Misty's face contorted in pain, small pants escaping her mouth.
"Shit, I don't think this was a good idea Miss. Cordelia." Her body was rigid, teething sinking into her bottom lip, determined not to show anymore weakness to Cordelia; she had done enough of that.
"It should only sting for a little bit longer, then you should feel nothing." She slipped her hand into Misty's, lacing their fingers and effectively giving the younger witch an outlet for the pain, "Squeeze."
Misty was caught off guard by the gesture, heart beat picking up as she admired the way Cordelia's hand felt in her own. It was soft and oh—another round stinging broke Misty from her reverie, forcing her to grasp Cordelia's hand and squeeze her eyes shut. She gritted her teeth, somewhat embarrassed that she could put a blade to her skin but not take a little stinging from a disinfectant. Then again, she never felt any pain when she cut, only relief—just thinking about it made her fidget uneasily.
"Can you feel this?" Cordelia prodded around her thigh, poking at various points to check for feeling.
Misty almost frowned, finding herself upset that she actually couldn't feel Cordelia's hand and secretly longing for the spark that she felt the last time the older witch touched her. "I, uh, nope. Can't feel nothin, just some tinglin'."
"Okay, I'm going to start. You might want to look away." She cautiously began to stitch together the gaping wound on Misty's thigh.
Misty watched the needle poke through, involuntarily jumping.
"Oh my God," Cordelia immediately stopped, hands flashing to Misty's shoulders and eyes widening in fear, "Did I hurt you?"
"N-no," she was caught off guard by the closeness, "I-I um just was surprised."
"Oh," Cordelia sank back down to her knees, a little embarrassed by how she reacted. She let out a deep breath, looking to Misty for a nod before resuming her work.
In a matter of minutes, the cut had been closed, neatly sown together as though Cordelia had done this hundreds of times. She added more disinfectant to the smaller cuts before wrapping the entire thigh in sterile cloth. The air thickened with silence as she packed up the first aid kit, without the immediate medical task it seemed there was nothing to talk about. Misty softly yawned, eyes crinkling and Cordelia responded almost a little too instantly, "Are you tired? because you can um go to bed now—not in my bed if you don't want too but if you want too that's, uh, perfectly okay."
A small smile played across Misty's face as she watched Cordelia babble, "Ya know Miss. Cordelia, that's the first time I've seen ya flustered." The grin disappeared when she remembered she was the reason Cordelia was speechless. She picked at a piece of flint of her shirt awkwardly, "I, um, am just gonna go to bed in my room."
"Of course," Cordelia offered her a tight smile. Why would she even think Misty wanted to sleep in her bed? She bit her lip, embarrassed that she even suggested that. Her stiff muscles complained as she got up off of her knees and offered a hand to Misty.
The younger witch's gaze flickered from the hand in front of her to Cordelia's face, slightly confused as to what was happening. Did Cordelia want to hold her hand? She blushed at the thought even though she was far from against doing so.
Cordelia's eyes widened in horror, a blush making it's way across her face as she realized what Misty must be thinking. She spoke quickly, words tumbling from her mouth, "Do you. uh, need help up because your leg is probably still a little numb."
Misty slipped her hand into Cordelia's, not expecting her leg to be numb at all but still wanting to accept the headmistress's offer. She stood up from the edge of the tub, wobbly on her feet but confident she could take another step. "Oh shit," Misty stumbled forward, leg giving out after one step. She shut her eyes, preparing for the fall that never came.
"I got you." Cordelia had wrapped her arm around Misty's waist, successfully keeping her from face-planting into the tile. She tightened her grip, forcing Misty to stand up straight.
"I guess my leg still is pretty numb," Misty offered weakly, trying to fight against the blush that crept up her neck. Cordelia's hand lingered on her waist as she stumbled out of the bathroom, Misty's face scrunched in concentration as she tried to ignore the jolt she felt every time Cordelia's hands accidentally brushed against her. She tripped over the dead weight of her leg again just as they entered the headmistress's room, mouth open in a silent cry as she was caught by Cordelia once again.
"Misty, I think you should just sleep in my bed and I'll go sleep in yours. I'd feel better if you did," she squeezed Misty's hand, " Your room is too far away for you to walk safely."
Misty nodded dumbly, too distracted by Cordelia squeezing her hand to argue. She limped towards the bed, guided by the older witch.
"Okay, lay down nice and easy. You don't want to rip open the stitches." She helped Misty down into bed, pulling the covers aside for her to get in. "Is there anything you need before I go to your room?"
The words left Misty's mouth before she could even debate the appropriateness of them. "Can ya stay?" She swallowed thickly, shocked by her own suggestion, "Uh, to make sure I don't rip my stitches while I'm sleepin, ya know?"
"Of course." Cordelia's slid into bed, ignoring the thumping in her chest. They sat together in silence, both filled with something neither could describe.
The younger witch broke the silence, "Miss. Cordelia?"
"Yes, Misty?"
"Thank you." She reached down, fingering the bandage wrapped around her leg, "No one has ever helped me like that before."
Cordelia's chest tightened, "Well that's something you'll never have to worry about again. I will always help you, no thanks needed." She ached deep down, hearing the loneliness in Misty's admission. Her hands tangled together and rested on her chest; it was the only she could do to keep herself from wrapping Misty up in an embrace.
Silence fell upon them once again and for the first time, it didn't make Misty nervous. She snuggled deeper into the covers, feeling at peace. She wished she could see Cordelia but the room was too dark. So she settled on listening for the older witches's breathing instead; the gentle rush of air lulling her into a deep sleep—one without nightmares and more importantly without him.
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Throw away this very old shoelace
that tripped you again
try and shrug it off
it's only skin now
you need to understand
there's nothing fake about this
you need to let me in
Misty pulled away the bandages from her leg in preparation of Cordelia's arrival. It was around 8 o'clock and that meant the headmistress would be coming to check up on her any minute now. Everyday, for the past two weeks, Cordelia would come and check up on her leg. At first Misty dreaded the visits, a piece of her still hoping that whole night had been just another terrible nightmare. But after time, she started looking forward to seeing Cordelia. The headmistress's kindness and compassion was something Misty had never really experienced and once she felt it, she never wanted to loose it. She strained her ears, listening for Cordelia, her heart stuttering when she heard the familiar groan of the floorboards. Misty heard a soft knock, a smile crawling across her face—Cordelia was even gentle when it came to knocking on doors. "Come in."
"Hey Misty, ready to take the stitches out today?"
"If ya say, so." She nervously tucked stray curls behind her ears, "Is it gonna hurt?"
"You should just feel a little tug." Cordelia opened her kit and set up next to Misty. She looked down at the healed over skin and chewed on her bottom lip. The sight of the angry red lines never failed to upset Cordelia; the idea that Misty was—is still— in so much pain that she would physically hurt herself always broke her heart. "Okay everything looks healed over, I'm going to start, are you ready?"
Misty took a deep breath, then nodded. She watched Cordelia snip the first stitch, holding her breath when the older witch grabbed the tweezers. "Wait."
"Are you okay?"
"I'm,uh, a little nervous."
"It shouldn't hurt, only maybe a little sting. Here," Cordelia reached forward and laced her fingers with Misty's, "Squeeze."
Misty nodded dumbly; she hadn't held Cordelia's hand since that night and honestly she didn't realized how much she missed it. "Okay," she whispered, finding it hard to speak when all the could think about were how nicely Cordelia's hand fit in hers. She closed her eyes, "Okay, I'm ready now."
Cordelia tried her best not to hurt Misty, paying close attention to the younger witches's hold on her hand. "Almost done." She snipped the last stitch, pulling it through in one swift swoop. "Okay," She squeezed Misty's hand, "All done. You can open now." They both stared down at the scar, Cordelia overcome with emotion. She separated their hands to wipe away at the tears forming in her eyes. "I'm so sorry."
Misty felt a pang in her chest, "Please don't cry."
"I'm sorry," she fought to gain her composure, "I-I just feel responsible. How could I not have known that you were hurting?"
Misty suddenly snatched Cordelia's hand, a fierce glint in her eye. "Never, Miss. Cordelia. Never would this ever have been your fault. I did this to me, It was my choice. Don't ya ever feel responsible for my actions." She loosened her grip, fingernails undoubtably leaving crescents into Cordelia's wrist. She didn't intend to be so forceful but she had to get Cordelia to believe it wasn't her fault.
The headmistress sniffled, shaking her head. "I should've been there."
"Please," Misty pleaded, her heart aching, "Ya couldn't have stopped me. Ya did everything ya could have and if anythin' you've made me wanna—," she nearly choked on the word," stop." She couldn't believe what she was saying; the blade had been her only friend for her entire life and she was about to willingly give it up for someone she'd only known for months. As crazy as it sounded, Misty knew it was true too. She would give it up without a second thought if it meant she didn't have to see Cordelia cry.
Cordelia's head snapped up at Misty's words, "That's a not even a choice you have, I won't let you do this to yourself ever again." She said it as the headmistress but the words came from a deep place in heart; a place she was sure she would never need again after Hank's betrayal.
Misty stayed silent, afraid that if she spoke everything would come out and the older witch would see how truly pathetic she was. She bit back her tongue, replying with a squeeze of her hand—a small, simple gesture that held more than words ever could. The two sat, Misty on the bed and Cordelia on the edge, hands clasped together; the comfortable silence that had settled around them occasionally shattered by a gentle sniffle from Cordelia. The raw display of emotion left Misty feeling uneasy. Seeing Cordelia, someone she had admired as a fearless leader, reduced to such a vulnerable state made her skin crawl. "Are ya okay?"
Cordelia let out a shaky breath, "No, not really."
"Squeeze?" Misty offered weakly, desperate to give the same comfort Cordelia so easily gave to her.
A little laugh escaped Cordelia's mouth as she nodded and squeezed Misty's fingers, her free hand wiping away the remaining tears.
Misty's heart fluttered, nearly breaking free from her rib cage at the laugh Cordelia emitted. "Better?"
The headmistress looked up at Misty, smiling softly, "Much." It was strange because such a small gesture genuinely made her feel better. She peered up at Misty, no longer overcome with grief but rather a different emotion—one she couldn't quit put a name on. Her chest swelled and she suddenly became hyper-aware of her hand in Misty's, palms beginning to sweat. The air grew heavy as her gaze lingered on blue-green eyes. She was overcome with this sudden thirst for the younger witch—to know everything about her, to see how she looks when she first wakes up and how the the early-morning sun must reflect in those eyes she couldn't stop staring at. "Why?"
Misty blinked dreamily before answering, clearly under the same spell as Cordelia. "What? Why what?"
Cordelia bit her lip, hesitating due to the invasiveness of her question, but continued nonetheless, fully believing that maybe if she knew why, she could help Misty stop. That's all she wanted. "Why do you do that to yourself?"
Misty froze, her hand involuntarily clenching onto Cordelia's as she was torn from the daze brought on by the older witches's proximity. "I uh," she stumbled over her words, struggling to string together an intelligible response. She wanted nothing more than to tell Cordelia but she couldn't—could she? Cordelia would certainly react how everyone else in her life had. She cringed remembering the violence and slew of curses thrown at her when the entire town had finally found out, forcing her into isolation until they discovered she was a witch and ultimately burned her. While that had hurt, Misty couldn't imagine how it would feel to be left by Cordelia. No, she wouldn't tell her, she couldn't afford to loose the closet companion she had ever had.
"Misty?"
Her head snapped to the side at the sound of Cordelia's voice and it wasn't until the older witch squeezed her hand did she notice that she was trembling.
"Misty, you're shaking are you okay?" Cordelia sounded frantic, her nails digging into Misty's palm.
Misty nodded, focusing on Cordelia's hand in her own to calm her. "Yes, I-I-I.." her heart started to beat again.
"You don't have to tell me. " Cordelia tried her best to soothe the younger witch, using her thumb to stroke a gentle pattern into Misty's hand.
Misty let out a breath. "I want too," she nodded almost as if to reinforce her words, "it's just, I'm—I'm not ready."
"I'll wait," Cordelia assured her, "You can tell me when you're ready." She smiled despite the fact that she was a little hurt, thinking that Misty didn't trust her. Regardless, she shoved her stupid insecurity aside to be there for the Swamp Witch. "Take all the time you need," she paused briefly, "I'm not going anywhere." The last part was barely audible but Misty undoubtably heard it—the gentle squeeze Cordelia felt told her that much.
The younger witch decided against replying—more like she was at a loss for words. Cordelia's admission, that she wasn't going anywhere, both calming and exciting her at the same time. She allowed herself to dwell on the butterflies in her stomach and how easily she had calmed with Cordelia near by. Normally she would have had a fit and while she did tremble slightly she found it amazing that she didn't even think of him once. Rather than thinking of his threats and what he had promised to do if she told anyone, as she did when it came time to tell her family members years ago, she worried about Cordelia's reaction. Misty marveled at this, feeling as though it was as small victory. Maybe one day, she wouldn't even think of him at all. With Cordelia by her side, that certainly seemed more than possible. Misty smiled, finally finding her voice and offering a gentle "Thank you," to the headmistress.
"Of course, I just want you to be okay." It was a simple statement but it couldn't be farther from the truth.
Misty stifled a yawn, smiling contentedly down at Cordelia. "If ya don't mind I think im gonna hit the hay."
"Oh," Cordelia practically sprung up from the mattress, "Sure, I'll just get out of your hair." She blushed, embarrassed that she was still holding Misty's hand even after she had gotten up . Suddenly, as though Cordelia had just noticed how inappropriate the entire situation was, she hastily dropped the younger witches's hand. The gentle blush now transforming into a full on red tint. She coughed awkwardly, peering at the clock, "I can't believe it's already so late." Although, really she could; time stood still when she was with Misty. "Yea, I'll just let you get to bed." She made her way over towards the door, forcing herself not to look over her shoulder for one last glimpse of the swamp witch to last her until their next meeting.
"Hey, Miss. Cordelia?"
Cordelia spun on her heels almost too quickly, her eagerness bringing a smile to Misty's face, "Yes?"
"I know that ya have been comin to see me to check on my leg but now that it's all healed up, I hope we can still spend time together?"
Cordelia couldn't stop the smile that crept across her face, "I'd love nothing more. Goodnight Misty."
000000000
I wanna hide the truth
I wanna shelter you
But with the beast inside
There's nowhere we can hide
When you feel my heat
Look into my eyes
It's where my demons hide
It's where my demons hide
Don't get too close
It's dark inside
It's where my demons hide
It's where my demons hide
Your eyes, they shine so bright
I wanna save that light
I can't escape this now
Unless you show me how
"Let me go! Let me go!" Misty fought against the men, shaking her head and baring her teeth.
"Shut ya mouth, ya ain't nothin but a filthy whore."
Misty screamed as they dragged her, lungs bursting, but she knew it would do no good— everyone in town was already here, avidly watching her struggle.
"Burn her!"
"Burn the witch!"
She cringed, unsure of what hurt more—the tightly clenched fists around her wrists or the fact that she could distinguish the voices ones chanting for her death.
"Tie up the whore! Burn her to hell."
She fought as they restrained her wrists, hanging her from the overturned tractor by the fields where she had grown up. The rope bit into her wrists, the skin breaking as she twisted and jerked for her life. "Let me go!" Her throat burned, raw from screaming, "Let me—" She sputtered, suddenly hit by a wave of gasoline. The smell made her gag, entire body soaked and trembling as the men continued to douse her in the putrid liquid. This was it. She opened her mouth, prepared to offer anything in exchange for her life when she was cut off by the strike of a match. It was him. The flame flickered as he stepped forward, illuminating the malicious glint in his eyes.
Misty stared back, a new found courage surging through her veins. She would not beg for mercy. This man had no mercy— he had proven that much. With as much venom as she could muster, Misty spat out what she believed to be her last words, "It is you who will end in flames, I swear it."
He grinned and flicked the match.
Cordelia shot out of bed, scrambling to grab her glasses as she heard a scream ring throughout the halls. She tripped over the sheets, eyes widening the second she recognized the cry. Misty. Oh god, Misty. "Misty?!" her voice cracked, still thick with sleep, as she slid out her door, making a b-line straight to the younger witches room. Images flashed through her mind as she ran. What if Misty had cut herself again? What if she was too late?
Misty shook in bed, chest heaving and hands wrapped around her blade. She had too. But should couldn't. What about Cordelia? She could almost feel the flames licking at her feet—she had too.
Cordelia burst through the door, paralyzed by the sight that lay before her—there was blood. "Misty, oh my god," the words caught in her throat," Did you?" She didn't wait for a reply, running over to the side of the bed and snatching Misty's hand. The blade made a clang as it fell to the floor, little droplets of blood splattering to the ground. "Misty, where?"
"I-I—" the younger witch blubbered, unable to form words through her sobs.
"Where?" Cordelia practically screamed, frantic to find and stop the bleeding. She grabbed the covers, tearing them away only to find nothing.
"I-I couldn't do it Delia," Misty cried, holding up her bloody palm to the older witch. "It's just my hand, I just squeezed. I d-didn't mean to."
"Oh Misty," Cordelia let out a cry of relief and tugged Misty into a hug. She buried her face into the other's neck, allowing her heart to overpower the remaining shred of common sense that warned her just how inappropriate her attachment to Misty was quickly becoming.
"I'm sorry."
Cordelia pulled away, cupping Misty's face with her hands and using her thumb to gently wipe away tears. "Don't be sorry," she spoke softly, trying to calm the younger witch, "I'm so, so, so proud of you Misty. "
"But my hand," she cried harder, her shoulders shaking with every sob, "I just couldn't, I saw him."
Cordelia felt goosebumps prick up the back of her neck at the mention of a man, remembering the vision of the young girl she had when she had touched Misty months ago. "Who? Who did you see Misty?"
Misty fell into hysteria, collapsing into Cordelia's arms. She clutched desperately to the headmistress's, trying to soak in her presence, knowing that the only thing that could make the memories go away was the woman in front of her.
Cordelia froze, momentarily stunned by the closeness and the grief coming off of Misty in waves. After a moment of awkwardness, she switched her attention to comforting Misty, scooting onto the bed and welcoming the younger witch into her arms. She rocked back and forth gently, humming to the blubbering witch. "Shh," she hushed, soothingly running her hands up and down Misty's back. She had only ever been on the other side of the door and now that she was witnessing Misty's pain first-hand her heart ached for every tear that dripped down onto her shirt.
Misty hiccuped, face burrowed in Cordelia's hair, her trembling slowly but surely beginning to subside. She let out a shaky breath and cleared her throat, "Thank you."
"You don't need to thank me," Cordelia murmured, stroking Misty's hair.
"I do, though," she fought to muster up the courage to speak, the fact that her face was hidden in the crook of Cordelia's neck making it somewhat easier. "Ya have have helped me more than anyone in my entire life. Even my own momma." Hearing the hurt in Misty's voice made Cordelia tighten her hold on Misty. "I, uh, grew up in a really, really strict place. Nobody really talked ta me and when they did it was to set me on fire." Tears stung her eyes just thinking about it.
"Hey," Cordelia cooed, pulling Misty out of her neck and cupping her face, "You don't have to talk about it if you don't want."
Misty sniffled, whipping tears from her face. "I do. Ya deserve to know Cordelia, " she fought to maintain eye contact, "Ya have been too kind to me and I-I can't lie to ya more anymore. I'm just afraid that once ya see what's inside, ya will run like everyone else and I-I could deal with everyone else but I don't think I could deal with loosin ya."
"Misty I—"
"No, let me finish because once ya hear what I have to say, ya will change your mind. I just know it." She began to sniffle again, just the idea that this could be her last conversation with Cordelia enough to spur a fresh round of tears. "I told ya that I grew up in a strict place. It was strict about God and everyone would go ta church every sunday and even sometimes during tha week. I used ta like church, I really did and I loved God. Up until one day the Pastor at my church," she struggled with the words, memories rising like bile up her throat, "H-he took me back to the choir room and startin takin off my clothes and—"
"No." Cordelia interrupted Misty, everything suddenly making sense—The visions, Misty's nightmares. "No more," she begged, tears forming in the corner's of her eyes, "I don't want to hear anymore."
"Ya need to know Cordelia," Misty persisted, though her voice shook, "I can't stand ya thinkin I'm some wounded dove. I'm not." She shook her head, curls shaking, "I'm a monster. I'm disgustin' and vile and everythin' I touch gets tainted and I can't do that to ya." She blinked through tears, "I can't ruin ya like he ruined me."
Cordelia pulled Misty into a fierce hug. "Never," she croaked, "You could never do that to me. You aren't any of those things. You are wonderful and kind-hearted and have the most beautiful soul I have ever seen, Misty." She pulled away, holding Misty's face in the palm of her hands and forcing eye contact, "That man is the monster. What he did doesn't change who you are. You're still you and you are beautiful and compassionate and make me smile every single day."
Misty's eyes were shut, tear streaming down her face and onto Cordelia's palm. She began to shake her head but Cordelia stopped her.
"Don't you shake your head, Misty," Cordelia couldn't believe what she was about to say, though she knew it was the truth, "You are all those things and I will stand by your side telling you everything single day until you believe me."
Misty sank in Cordelia's arms, suddenly loosing the strength to hold herself up. Cordelia wasn't leaving and that realization had drained her of everything she had. The older witch had cleared out the skeletons in Misty's closet and now she was empty. Without the demons and secrets that had made up her being for so long, Misty had nothing. The gaping whole in her chest ached but she took comfort in the hollow feeling, knowing that now she could finally fill herself with something else, or more specifically someone else—Cordelia already starting to seep into the cracks of Misty's shattered heart.
000000000
"I might flinch the first time you try to touch me-
this doesn't mean I don't like you
all it means is that there was one before you who
was not nearly as gentle as you are
and so we must take our time now
we must take our time"
— Fortesa Latifi - To Whoever Is Next
The weeks flew by, the light steadily returning to Misty's eyes or really reflecting the light she found in Cordelia's. The two were inseparable, together day and night, bound by the foundation created when Cordelia had pulled Misty from the darkness.
"Ya know Dee," Misty murmured, finishing snipping the plant they had been working on, "I never really got to thank ya properly for helpin' me the way ya did so I got ya little somethin'."
Cordelia clearly uncomfortable with accepting a gift for being a decent human being refused. "Mist, you didn't have to get me anything. I told you that you never had to thank me and I still mean it."
"Oh shut up and turn around." Misty laughed, reaching into her pocket and pulling out a little golden necklace complete with a star pendant. It was simple but to Misty, it held so much meaning. Plus, it was really all she could afford. Zoe had helped her pick it out and even paid for half of it though Misty would be doing her chores for at least a month.
Cordelia squirmed, feeling Misty's hands brush aside her hair. "Mist, you really didn't have—"
"Shh, " Misty shushed, unclasping the necklace and placing it around Cordelia's neck. She clicked it into place, fingers lingering on the back of Cordelia's neck just long enough to give the older witch goosebumps.
Cordelia pretended not to notice how long Misty stayed behind her, gently touching the soft skin of her neck. They had been dancing around each other more often, finger's accidentally brushing or touches lasting longer than they should. She tried not too think to much of it even though her heart sped up whenever it happened. She turned her attention back to star on her chest, touched by the gesture. "Misty, it's beautiful," she spun, blushing when she met Misty's intense gaze.
"I know it's simple and ya are so used to fancy jewelry but it's a star because that's what ya are." She reached out, playing with the little star, "Ya are my northern star Dee. Ya lit up my dark skies and when I was lost ya gave me direction and lead me back home." She withdrew her fingers, and gazed at the floor, scuffling her feet anxiously.
"Oh Misty." Cordelia's heart was about to explode, tears beginning to form in the corners of her eyes. "You really shouldn't have gotten me a gift," she fingered the necklace anxiously, toying with the star. "I did all of that because I think I knew that even then..." she trailed off, trying to dig deep for the courage,"I knew even then that I would fall in love with you."
The younger witch's head snapped up, "Love?"
Cordelia let out a choked laugh through her tears and nodded, "Yes Misty, I love you."
Misty's mouth hung open, never expecting the feelings she harbored for Cordelia to be returned. She struggled to find something to say but words didn't seem to be enough to convey how she felt. With shaky hands and a quivering bottom lip, she cupped Cordelia's face, bringing their lips together into a passionate kiss. That single kiss opened the flood gates, Misty clutching onto Cordelia's face as their lips collided over and over again; each kiss more desperate than the last."I love ya," she breathed, heart hammering against her chest, "God Cordelia, I love ya so, so much."
Misty swore that Cordelia was her saving grace. Bringing her soul farther and farther away from her tortuous past, making her fall in love with the present and look forward to the future. When they made love for the first time, Misty was convinced that with every kiss Cordelia transformed her body from something of shame into something of love. Constantly, Misty insisted that Cordelia was her salvation but the older witch always reminded Misty that she had done nothing but show her the way. It was Misty who had saved herself.