CHAPTER THREE

Toni couldn't sleep. Of course she couldn't. She had just broken into some hellish nunnery (the irony of that killed her) and saved someone, that 'someone' being no other than Cheryl Blossom, who was now fast asleep a couple of inches to her right. She looked so peaceful, a world away from the distressed state she'd been in just an hour ago, chest gently rising and falling finally at a steadied rate. Her face still wore the tear tracks from earlier but at least she had finally been given some peace. The pink-haired Serpent was glad. Cheryl deserved peace. She deserved love and happiness and a lot of other nice things too. She hoped that she would be able to give her that, be the person she could trust or whatever it was, help her through this ongoing battle with life itself even if they'd inevitably both be wounded at some point or another in the process.

Together or not at all.

Satisfied that Cheryl was comfortable, her breathing no longer a series of quiet hiccuping sobs, she closed her eyes, plugging her headphones in and skipping through her playlist aimlessly until she reached some obscure song with about withering flowers and misplaced trust and guiding people home or something along the lines of that. It fit the situation as perfectly as her worn and old leather Serpent jacket fit herself; a beaten-down Blossom girl falling back into the arms of the only living person who had wholly and truly loved her after what felt like a century separated by force. Bless the art of shuffled playlists.

Cheryl had been a victim of nightmares for most of her life – living in an old manor by the woods with a private graveyard wasn't exactly going to keep ghosts and slamming doors from haunting her nights – but since Jason had left they'd become a lot more regular, and a lot scarier at that.

At first, they were little things she hated. Chilling voices telling her that she was the reason why he left, and that's why he wouldn't let her know the reasons behind his escape plan when she asked time and time again. But when it hit the two-week mark since he had left and he still hadn't been in touch, those voices turned into something else. A knock on the door, the expensive rifles displayed in the dining room, the ring of the phone in the foyer, an image of an upside-down car on the news – it was all enough to trigger thoughts of the worst.

Or maybe he'd just forgotten about her; left her in this town equating to hell as he travelled to the other side of the country, now a distant memory, merely a connection to some cultish family he no longer wanted to be associated with. Nothing more, nothing less. After all, it was understandable; she had always been the problem in every other matter, what was to say that this wasn't the same sort of story?

And then there had been that night – the first weekend of junior year, the night of the party at her house where she'd destroyed a relationship because of how her own had been destroyed years and years ago in that very house – where the flash of blue lights from outside her window and the solemn voice of Sheriff Keller pulled all of that to a standstill, putting an end to constant email refreshing and phone checking. It brought sleep to a standstill, too. When she did manage a few hours, they were haunted by her brother's long lifeless body on that metal table, the sickening stench of the decaying corpse and probably several other in the morgue in the basement of the hospital would linger in her nose for eternity, the yellow skin and staring eyes and haunting dark hole in his forehead burned into the back of her eyelids.

She blamed herself. She still did. She – regardless of how devastated the plan made her when Jason had told her about it initially, and regardless of how much she'd pleaded for him not to leave her alone with them – had ultimately guided him into Mustang's hands, then into that basement, then into the shooting range of that pistol. It wasn't as it it was only herself who was saying that. She wasn't deaf, but she'd wished she was when she heard those whispers in the corridors and the back of the classroom. That was even before the results of that autopsy made their way to the sheriff's department and she made her way out of the principles office with her mother's hand enclosed around her elbow, her parents later screaming at her in the reception room of Thornhill, Keller questioning her endlessly, being told how serious the offences were – etcetera. That continued for weeks; her mother still brought it up in their fights even now, months on from that, knowing just how much it would hurt her daughter to hear his those comments which were identical to a stab in the heart. Little reminders of the part she played, that Jason was dead forever and always, that she was the second twin and always would be.

Because face it; if she had succeeded in her attempt on her life that day at the river, no one would have come to her funeral. They probably wouldn't have realised she was gone, thinking about it.

The nightmares became worse until the day the real killer was found. Of course they would be. She'd done more to find the murderer than god damn Sheriff Keller had. Sleepless nights had the benefit of eight extra hours to kill, these apparently best spent poring over family trees and phone books. FP was arrested and she knew he didn't kill him; secretly she had her own suspicions, but she wouldn't – couldn't – release them, being too scared of the consequences. When Betty had confirmed it, it was a... a relief. A relief that, finally, justice had been served. Jason had been given justice. Maybe she'd finally be able to live normally once the reporters left town and went on to another story. Soon the Register would have headlines on lost cats and random fights in the southside which no one really cared about, just like in the past, but her version of a normal life was living life in a world of constant abuse, back then with Jason there to argue her case but now no one was there to stand up for her, and no one was there for protect her. She was alone and vulnerable as ever. The nightmares kept coming – why and how did she think that they'd ever stop? She'd seen two dead bodies – she'd watched her father's heart and lungs stop right in front of her eyes with the sickening snap of the neck as he fell from the rafters, and then Betty gave her that memory stick and she watched Jason die, listened to the sound of the bullet in synchronisation with the violent jolt of a lifeless head one... two... five... five hundred times. A reminder that it was real. That she wasn't imagining it anymore. That her father had killed her brother; one theory correct, and It didn't seem real but it was. It really was. It made her numb, scared, terrified, unable to move a muscle, breathe, talk, cry, anything. Her life was now just one long tiring nightmare which wouldn't stop.

She tried to make it stop. She almost made it stop.

But then someone pressed play and rewind, and she realised that it wasn't going to stop that easily. The tape was now stuck on the part of the story where everything bad happened, like some horrible trap of horrible event after horrible event after horrible event. Nightmare after nightmare after nightmare. A little inescapable cycle of horror and imagination.

Jason. Mommy. Pain. Daddy. Gunshots. Pain. Rivers. Cold. Pain. Fires. Nick. Pain.

Sometimes her dreams would be happy, beautiful, loving. But, she thought one night in the Sisters, maybe that was some distorted reality too. Cheryl Blossom didn't pair with happiness. If she did, why did horrible things keep happening to her? Why did everyone leave her? Why did everyone hate her so much?

A jolt of frantic movement to the right of her was what shook Toni from her semi-conscious state of sleep.

For a brief moment she was confused as to where she was, why she was sat on the floor leant against the couch, and why she heard faint crying nearby.

Then she remembered.

Cheryl.

The Sisters.

The bloody Sisters.

God...

Penelope Blossom had abandoned her very own daughter in that place, which practically equates to a cult, handing her over as if they were a store and she was handing back nothing more than a damaged item of clothing (more precisely, one she'd damaged herself yet still had the guts to hand back and place the blame on someone else), most likely not giving a fuck if she died in there from illegal experimental treatment or god damn suicide or something else unthinkable. The witch would probably even be genuinely happy if her daughter didn't even leave that place – in that instance, at least then she'd have one less mouth to feed with the money she'd earned by sleeping with strangers; some inconvenience she'd been left with never to be thought about again. It wasn't that she liked to dwell on the fact that Penelope was the polar opposite of a decent mother – hell, she hated to even think about the level of pain Cheryl had been caused in a single day, let alone her entire life – but the broken girl deserved someone who was down-to-earth about how badly treated she'd been, who didn't excuse or disregard even the smallest cruel action from her 'caregiver', and who was there to back her up and protect her when no one else was there to. Toni wanted to be there for Cheryl. After all, she too understood what it was like to be alone and suffering, what it was like to have people say that your life wasn't that bad when in reality it couldn't get that much more unbearable.

Her heart fell to her stomach as another sob filled the room, followed by another and another and another...

"Hey," she whispered hoarsely to the shadowed figure above her, pulling herself up and on to the couch beside her and reaching out slowly to place a tentative arm across her shoulders, "Hey, Cheryl—"

Another sob racked her body, making Toni swallow hard as tears began to prick her eyes as well, but she pushed them back before they crept too close to the edge. She couldn't cry. Toni Topaz didn't cry. Not often, anyway, those moments of weakness were rare and concealed from even those closest to her. Besides, right now even letting one small tear split felt so out of perspective compared to Cheryl's level of pain and her right to cry all the tears left in the world.

She so desperately wanted to understand what was going on. She wanted so desperately to help her, or at least offer a hand in alleviating that pain, and she wasn't going to allow herself to chicken out or become paralysed with shock or fear or worry or upset. At the same time, she was perfectly aware that anything the other girl said wasn't going to exactly be rainbows and unicorns, and she wasn't sure whether she personally wanted to know what had happened in that place to make the other girl, so strong to have made it to this side of the horrors of life alive yet so bruised and damaged, react in this sort of way.

"Hey Cheryl, it's me, Toni," her voice was soft, barely above a whisper, cautious not to frighten the other girl because, hell, that was the last thing they needed right now. "Hey. You're safe. I'm here. You're out of there now. We rescued you, remember? Veronica, Kevin and I? Hmm?"

Cheryl was aware of someone speaking but she couldn't make any words out of the muffled ringing. Her nightmare was still replaying in her head, over and over like a broken record with the images becoming stronger and more memorable for every passing second. She pushed the heels of her hands into her eyes, nails digging into her forehead wishing that it could maybe make everything just stop, or at least the pain would distract her from the demons. The memories weren't stopping, fading, whatever. It was a cycle of eternal torture – and the more she thought about that the more she thought about the words of the nuns talking about Hell and Satan and stuff and the more she thought about the pain and what happened at that place and just... god – and she was waiting for that break in the system to end it.

"It isn't real."

But it felt real.

"Take a deep breath."

But her lungs wouldn't allow that. All of the air had been sucked out of her like a vacuum, and no matter how much she gasped and coughed she felt as if she was being suffocated by her own body. It hurt, too, a sharp pain in her sides causing more tears to spring to her eyes. She shook her head frantically as she panicked, something between a sob and a whimper escaping her throat. "I-I can't—"

Toni sighed. She felt helpless, unsure, and another couple of adjectives she wouldn't admit even in thought. She'd never been in this sort of situation before (after all, how many people had?), the only similar scenario su being those after fights involving steri-strips and ice packs, the only sort of 'broken' in those being that of pride and the occasional nose.

"Come here," she breathed as she pulled the other girl to her chest, wrapping both arms around her waist and rubbing her back in some sort of infinite pattern which she only hoped would have calming effect. Maybe the contact itself would calm her enough. She hoped it would, anyway. She was shaking visibly, pale hands trembling noticeably against the shorter girl's back. "Try again, in through your nose and out through your mouth."

It took a lot of encouragement for the other girl to trust her enough to follow her instructions. She was hesitant to do what she said, waiting for the reassuring nod to tell her she was capable of it, yet managed a couple of inhales before collapsing against Toni again in exhaustion, body still trembling but at least now it was trying to progress its way through the flashback.

"Good," she soothed, running her fingers through a slightly less knotted section of her hair, "You're doing it, see? You're doing great. Come on, try again... in... and out..."

"Toni I—"

"Shhh. Hey. Try. You can do it."

"It hurts so—"

"I know, baby, I know. But it's all going to be over soon, I promise. You just have to keep breathing with me. You're alright. You're safe. No ones going to hurt you, alright? Just breathe..."

It took several minutes of quiet coaxing until thee other girl's breathing was no longer shuddering and laboured. Toni stifled a sigh of relief. Tears continued to tickle the back of her neck – she was still crying, but at least she was in a more emotionally stable state now. At least she was breathing normally, the violent shaking fallen into more subtle quivers.

Cheryl never wanted to let go of the other girl. She was afraid that if she pulled away she'd break again as if the embrace was all that was holding her together. It kind of was, really. Everything else had fallen apart, after all.

"You're okay," Toni whispered against her forehead in reminder. Cheryl nodded silently, falling more heavily into her chest.

"Thank you."

"No worries."

Why did Cheryl feel the need to thank her for this?

"Do you want to talk about it?"

The redhead shook her head in response.

"That's fine. You don't have to say a word until you're ready, however long that may be."

"I'm sorry," her small voice croaked out after a short while.

"Hey, look at me," Toni pulled away, ever so gently pushing her chin up with her index finger so that their eyes would meet. Cheryl's were filled with so much pain and misery, bloodshot with whatever traces of mascara were left from literally weeks ago creating smoky smudges around the red rims. "Don't you dare try to apologise for this. Nothing which has happened is your fault. It's—"

"My mother's," Cheryl finished with a sad smile. "Yeah. I know."

"She is the one put you in there, she is the one who has abused you for your whole life, and she's the reason why you hate yourself," Toni gulped at that. She didn't like to think about that, and – hell – she felt awful to have to tell someone that about themselves but, at the end of the day, it was true. The redhead had glossed over it in conversation before, and from the way her eyes angled back down towards her knees following that comment she figured that, yes, she definitely was right in that sense. "It's her who should be apologising. Not you. You haven't done anything wrong."

"She wouldn't apologise, though."

"Yeah. And I second that," the pink-haired Serpent sighed with a wonky smile, softly brushing away a tear which had slipped down Cheryl's reddened cheek, "And that just makes her so much worse of a human being than she already is. To be honest, I don't even know if that's possible... But, anyway, please, please just understand that this is not your fault in any way. You haven't stepped one foot in the wrong direction."

The other girl stared at her for a few moments before nodding, biting her lip to hold back her tears which still threatened to fall. How was she still crying? "I mean, at least I'm out of that house now."

"Exactly," the Serpent placed her caring hand on her upper arm, like the day they first properly spoke, only this time Cheryl wasn't pushing it off. She was too weak to do that. She needed this touch for so many reasons – one of those was to reassure her that this wasn't simply a dream or figment of her imagination, the same process which led her to see people in those black and white pixelated projections on movie nights in the place of those probably deceased actors; another reason being that, right now, she was here with Toni and out of their grasp; another being to reassure her that she hadn't just gone crazy with some thought of someone for once actually caring. This time, as opposed to that day less than a month ago (it's crazy, both of them thought, how much you can come to love and care about a person in such a way in such a short space of time), Cheryl stared at her with overwhelming sadness and fear and maybe, if you looked closely, a hint of relief, rather than reacting with such spite, almost violence towards the shorter girl like she had initially. "You're out of danger, at the very least, and now that we have evidence of her sending you away we can report her or something – I mean, only if you want to, of course, but I personally think it would be better – safer – if the sheriff was made aware of what's been going on at Thistle House. I don't know what's going to happen when your mom realises you're out, and if no one knows it could end up worse than before, so..."

Cheryl interrupted her. "I'll think about it."

Toni offered her a wry smile, Cheryl returning before they leant back on the sofa in each others arms in silence. It was a peaceful kind of silence, though – the sort of silence people who are in love sit in as they stare at each other with heart eyes in the middle of the night after deep talks about horrible lives. It was like a portrait of a beautiful tragedy, the two people trapped within the painting beautiful tragedies in themselves, helping each other through their pain with the power of love driving them through the storm clouds and fog to what would hopefully be a better place on the other side. Thinking about that ideology, it sounded like nothing more than a rambling drunken mess, but what an accurate piece of trash it was.

Their breaths slowed, Cheryl's heart rate dropping eventually to a more relaxed pace as her head fell heavy in Toni's collar. She was calm now, almost as if everything which had happened in the past however-long-it-had-been never happened after all, either asleep or well on their way to that state, the physical and mental exhaustion of the nightmare, the rescue – everything – finally taking their hit on the other girl. The same thing was happening to Toni, her eyes felt suddenly feeling as if they were being held down by the same weights which threatened to pull the rest of her body southwards, sinking into the tatty couch. Slowly and carefully, she got out from beneath the other girl and laid her back down, murmuring softly when she stirred for her to try to go back to sleep as she placed the blanket back over her shivering body, offering her own as well for extra warmth before tucking her in the way her own mother used to tuck her into bed when she was just a llittle girl.

She didn't want the blanket, after all. She didn't need it. Her main – only – priority was getting her girlfri— (not yet) back to her usual self. Preferably, that would be the happier version of her usual state, but part of Toni wanted so badly to listen to the other girl's discernible voice echo down the hallways as she bitched at people. But, most of all, she wanted nothing more than to see the girl she lo— (thought-the-world-of-and-couldn't-live-a-day-without-and-thought-was-an-angel-on-earth-and-maybe-just-maybe-had-feelings-for-etcetera-etcetera) smile, genuinely and broadly, free of the horror and pain she'd only ever known. She only other thing she wanted was for Penelope to pay the price of her actions.

Through law and sentencing and justice, of course, though secretly she wanted to see that bitch missing some limbs for what she'd done – and to think that Famgs had once called her the only laid back person in the Serpents, then, well...

So, instead of of curling up on the opposite couch wrapped in a yellowish-brownish-greenish blanket in the same way she would any other night in this trailer, she placed herself back down on the uncomfortable floor. Tomorrow she'd ask Sweet Pea to sort the sofabed out, but right now this was the best option, as close to the other girl as possible, placing the ghost of kiss on her forehead and drawing patterns across her grazed knuckles with her thumb until her own eyes fell closed and empty nothingness consumed her.

UM... OK... SO I MAY HAVE WRITTEN 4000 WORDS WHICH IS, LIKE, A LOT FOR ME. I'VE WRITTEN PART OF CHAPTER 4 AND ALSO MAY HAVE DELVED INTO A LITTLE TONI-CENTRIC ONESHOT BY ACCIDENT (WON'T BE UPLOADED UNTIL I GET TO THAT PART HERE, THOUGH!) – BASICALLY I'M CAUGHT IN A SLIGHT WRITING HIGH ATM. ANOTHER REASON WHY I'M HYPED UP IS THAT VANESSA IS GOING TO BE A SEASON 3 REGULAR !! – BUT WE WILL GLOSS OVER THAT :D

OH – AND 13RW NOW HAS A RELEASE DATE SO IF ANYONE IS POPPING OVER FROM STREETLIGHTS, I'LL BE CATCHING UP ON THAT VERY SHORTLY!