Somewhere Only We Know
When Madison Montgomery was little, she was taught religion. Her mother, before she used Madison as a meal ticket, taught her about angels and demons, Heaven and Hell, moral codes that aren't meant to be broken. Such teachings swirled into Madison's head before she grew old enough to question it. Now, 22 and dead, all she could do was roll her eyes.
There was no Anglo-Saxon man with a winning smile taking her delicate hand and leading her to the pearly gates. Instead, she's meets tall, dark, and smells like ganja, taking her hand and dragging her to the Underworld. At first she kicked and screamed, trying to gouge Kyle's eyes out as he looked coldly at her vacant body, but after she realized that this is her fate, she willingly accepts and walks down to Hell.
With enough grace and poise fit for a celebrity.
She breezes through her entrance to Hell with indignation; she didn't beg for forgiveness, doesn't give any empty promises of repentance and redemption. She handles her punishment quietly and enters her torture without complaint.
She suffered at first; her worst fears and insecurities coming to haunt her and torment her, but for what felt like years, it became fairly old, fairly quick. Her biggest discomfort is the repetition; she glides through her pain and misery without so much as a scream of terror and it makes Madison breathe easier.
As she stands in line to be beheaded by Kyle and a clingy Zoë again for that hour, she hears a loud, pained scream.
That's strange.
She tries to ignore it, but the noise gets louder, more miserable, less human.
It sounded like Misty.
Madison doesn't take kindly to Misty; they ended on the worst of terms after their catfight. But something about hearing her scream and wail in agony makes Madison squirm.
"Hold the guillotine, Kyle. I'll be right back," she tells her executioner before leaving the premises of her Hell. The illusions dissolve, and it's nothing more but her and a cold, sickly-green door. More of Misty's screams permeated through that door.
Madison bursts through, and is shocked at what she sees.
Frogs. Frogs being dissected, Misty reviving them, then Misty being forced to kill them again. The cycle kept repeating over and over in a span of minutes to where it was painful to watch. Madison walks to Misty, who's blind with grief, and grabs her hand.
"Snap out of it, swamp bitch. You're ruining my suffering. Snap out of it!" she hisses at her. Misty looks at Madison and moans.
"Why do I have to be punished more with you being here? What have I done to deserve this?"
"Honestly, nothing." Madison admits. She shakes Misty, pushing the teacher out of their way so only Misty could see her. The frogs didn't matter, the teacher didn't matter, the classroom didn't matter; it was all frozen in time. Blank eyes stare at the couple with indignation.
"Look, I'm no saint, and neither are you, but you don't deserve to be here." She tells Misty, who's recovering from shock.
"We're going to be stuck here forever. You can either make this your Hell, or make this your paradise. Tell me what it is you love most."
"My…my garden," Misty whispers. Madison's thumbs trace her face; it's a soothing thing her mother used to do when she was scared.
"Imagine it."
Misty wastes no time. It isn't long before the classroom dissolved to a magnificent greenhouse in the back of her shack. Madison crinkles her nose at it but is content with Misty calming down and collapsing to the dirt.
The sun beams down in the greenhouse, bathing the duo in a warm glow. Stevie Nick's 'Leather and Lace' plays softly in the background, much to Madison's disgust. But there's something about seeing Misty smile and twirl in the mud that makes it worth it.
It isn't long before Misty talks to Madison, tries to engage her in conversation. Out of loneliness or desperation, Madison humors her; they talk, actually talk, about random subjects. No back-stabbing, no insults, not even a barbed compliment. It is peace at its best. Madison, fighting her Hell of being in this greenhouse, gets dirty and pulls up weeds and watches Misty place vegetables in a basket to make for a salad. She listens as Misty sings to Stevie as she waters the corpses squirming through the dirt. She waits for her in the shack, sitting in a table with only two chairs as she twirls her fingers into the old wood. Misty enters, warm smile on her face as she makes plates for two and makes the tea.
They eat in silence, unsure of what to think about the outcome. Papa Legba's bound to enter and ruin their haven any minute, but so far, nothing.
"This shouldn't have to be our punishment." Madison begins through a mouth full of carrot.
"This could be our home, a place where only we could be accepted. The living world couldn't handle me. This is the only place where we belong."
"This is Hell, Madison," Misty interjects. "This is our damnation for being who we are."
"If you stay with me," Madison grabs her hand. "This wouldn't be our Hell. This would be somewhere only we know. Somewhere," She squeezes.
"Somewhere you and I could call Home."