It was almost hilarious now, as Will lay flat on her back and gurgled some degree of humour; the dim light of morning slowly beckoning ideas of school and such dreads, but Will's mind submerged only in a joke that some boy...some thing, had once carved within her the idea that empathy might be wonderful, or at least something sacred that she might treasure, while it was in actual fact a curse, and one that had led to the death of her sanity, or she knew at least that that was what everyone was thinking. "Do you always have to be here?"
For once, at this time in the morning, Will was not talking to her mother, who had wisely locked her window for fear of suicide, the moment that this woman's voice had calmly told her what an artwork the carving was, and the shards of driftwood had littered the curb for days. It was what her mother thought about. There wasn't a person she couldn't read, though she didn't much like her own little tale, not that the narration would ever stop babbling. Except that it was silent now, and Will always came to regret that she had the audacity of hating every second of it. When the voice went away, it made her insanity feel far more substantial. Probably to some extent ironic, but she might as well miss exactly what she wanted rid of.
"I.. I didn't mean that." Both she and herself knew that Will did, and that was concluding her insanity, because she did feel to some extent that it was somehow her that was doing this. There was probably, to some extent, a burn, but Will didn't want to look in a mirror. And who could care, an echoing whisper had so intent and wittingly told her, if she couldn't find a worry for herself. She'd never much felt any extent self-passionate. Not in the way, that Cornelia clearly did, and the way that Taranee prided her cleverness. Hay Lin was proud of lots of things that she was good at, and Irma held her own for the right she had to it. Will had never been much good at that; there was always something else better worth fighting for. A submissiveness had always coursed through her, and she realized when she'd seen him that it didn't matter, whether Caleb had or could love her or not. And she didn't need to like anyone, to prove that she liked herself. "I only wish I knew."
And yet, she had Matt. Proof that someone wanted her, she pitied that he was more involved in his imagination, than reality, and it was only another thing to disgust herself with that she enjoyed the cynicism of knowing that someone else was as much of an idiot as she was. In that state of affairs though, he fooled himself that she liked him because he didn't dislike himself. Just one poor little boy that she'd pulled into her chasm: a place where she didn't give anyone anything, and yet everyone was so generous. A place where she'd actually allowed herself the right to be upset with Caleb, for acting when she was the chink that no one else had the guts to iron out. She didn't belong anywhere, and she didn't give anything back. Her power in life, was to feel others' pain; she couldn't even relieve it, and now that rebellious part of her mind was telling her things, causing her to take it upon her body to cause the pain.
She couldn't stand up for herself. She was a mistake, she knew - her mother had initially called her a surprise. Her father had possibly been the only one who'd loved her, and clearly he had realized his mistake, because she'd never been told where he'd gone, and she realized it was because prestigious Susan Vandom would never be as honest to admit that it was all her daughter's fault. And Will had never had the human instinct telling her she had a right to anything she wasn't given; she was lucky for anything she got. It's not like she earned anything. 'he ruined everything."
A desperate attempt to catch her own attention, but silence still dwelled and Will wondered if Caleb had. He sometimes made her feel lovely, and he'd had some skill to fake past her empathy. She'd honestly felt truly doted on, and now she remained embarrassed even though it had been a business trip. It was again. She'd dared fight him and he'd wanted compliance.
"He makes me say things I don't want to say."
At least, things the voice inside her claimed she didn't want to. Every other part of her wasn't sure.
...
Caleb watched the rising of a sun; another would be gracefully departing, though dim enough that he might compare it to Earth's moon. He'd almost stopped believing, everything that Aldarn had told him. All about this world, there were great beauties that had dulled in comparison to Will. He didn't have to love her, to love himself. The thought corrupted any chance of others, but he knew he wanted to. Maybe it had taken this long without her to remind him that he wanted other things too; that he'd hidden the thoughts away, of seeing everything that Aldarn told him about, but the difference was that he wanted to see her being just a stunned as he was, if he was ever to see these amazing things. "Aldarn thinks it's because you were showing off. Drake told me."
"I misinterpreted something." Caleb had nodded slightly as he said it, and he could feel Julian's gaze behind him. Drake wouldn't be here as early, because he'd easily made a home with a woman he'd found in desperation. All Drake seemed to do nowadays was help people; Caleb knew it, because the older boy would certainly not be able to touch her. And Drake had been libidinous, so it must be some revelation that the man had become generous. Caleb didn't know whether he loved her though, as he'd never asked Drake about his wife. He hadn't known to. His vision was blurring slightly, from the water in his eyes, and he swallowed at the thought of all of the changes and things he'd ruined. "A lot of things."
"She seems to be quite clever. She understands a lot of things, I bet." He could leave, or pay no heed to Julian who'd changed just as much and had been ruined by him; it was the misinterpretation of Julian that had made the man so brilliant, but Caleb knew that the same didn't go for Will. He nodded, and the tears slipped down in one blink, but he doubted he'd cry like this again because it was to be the funeral of Will. She'd never let him misinterpret her - she had always been everything and clear about it. But he'd let her think he was something else, and that was when they'd stopped understanding one another: when she had started thinking him some orphaned prince or something, and when fear had truly consumed him. "She must be something wonderful, because you've never much been impressed."
"She was, she was." He'd been too scared, and when a squeeze of the hand hadn't worked, he'd squeezed harder. She was crushed, and he hadn't realized the extent of his damage. "It was you, a little bit I think. I was trying to be both of me, for both of you a little bit."
"You're seeing her today?"
"Everyday." That didn't mean it would fix anything.
"Just don't go too fast."
Caleb smirked coyly then, and turned to him, "I'll drag my heels, wherever Elyon takes me."
