I'm on fire today :) Alright, brace yourselves, the respite from angst ends here.
Chapter Summary: A slip up on Elsa's part makes old habits come calling once more.
7 - One Wrong Move
It's barely a week before the bubble bursts.
Elsa is sitting by the window in her bedroom, watching a full moon chart it's way across the sky and lazily creating ice-crystal shapes in the air. Anna and Kristoff were out somewhere enjoying the return of the warm weather, and Elsa was revelling in the time alone. As much as she loved her sister, a life of almost total isolation made extended bouts of company a little difficult to handle.
She was attempting to frost her name across the window when a loud crash tore through the peace of the night. Elsa started in alarm, and ice flew out in a wide circle around her, scuffing the wall paper and smashing through the glass next to her.
She leapt off the window seat and staggered backwards. A second later a servant entered the room behind her and tried to ascertain what had happened. Elsa barely registered them – all she could see was the broken fragments of window scattered at her feet and the night air blowing her hair gently off her face. Her only thought was: I lost control. I lost control...
One unexpected noise, was that all it took?
People mill around her, sweeping up the broken window, and suddenly Elsa is thrown back to a previous summer day so long ago that had looked so very similar... except it had been the mirror being cleared up around her as she stood shocked and dazed.
I thought I was making progress. I thought I was doing so well. I've not advanced at all.
Here she was once again, watching servants clear away the consequences of her loss of control. Oh God, what if someone else had been in the room with me... I could have killed them...
The thought almost brings Elsa to her knees. All her life that same worry had been plaguing her, and just when she thought she was finally rid of it... This is never going to end, is it?
Trying not to make a scene, she dismisses the servants and climbs into bed, curling herself into a tight ball under the covers and trying to shut out the world. Mama had always told her that a good nights sleep could fix anything. Elsa sincerely hopes that she was right as she drifts into a broken sleep, stubbornly ignoring the tears leaking down her face.
She wakes feeling empty.
Nowhere near the levels of the all-consuming vacuum that had suffocated her that night in her castle, but enough that for almost an hour she lies in bed staring at the ceiling, unable to find an adequate reason for moving.
The curtains are closed, but the their gentle fluttering in the corner of Elsa's vision serve as a cruel reminder of last night's accident. Everything she'd thought she'd gained, wiped with one flinch. There's no cure for being a monster, a voice in her head whispered, Did you really think was all over? Stupid.
Chest aching with her failure, Elsa rolls onto her side so the window disappears from view. But the action scrapes her arm along the mattress, causing the cuts there to sting. Suddenly, she is acutely aware of every self-inflicted mark on her body as though they had all been set on fire.
She grips the sheets, heart suddenly thudding. No. No I can't.
She screws her eyes shut and tries to think of anything but the abrasions on her skin. It's almost a minute and a half before she realises that it's futile, the old urge to attack herself that she hasn't felt for days returns with a vengeance and reminds of all the things it had helped her get through.
I fucked up, she thinks to herself, peering over her shoulder at the shattered window. I always punish myself for fucking up, don't I? Why should I let myself off now?
Suddenly all she can think about is losing control around Anna, of striking her sister yet again. Surely not even Anna could survive her a third time.
Monster.
Elsa sits upright in bed, finally giving in to the temptation. It makes sense, she reasons with herself as she rolls her sleeve up, I run the risk of hurting people, so I have to be hurt myself. No one else will do it.
She glances one last time at the curtain that masks her crime, then puts her hands up and watches as the air solidifies in front of her. The ice shard that forms is thicker and sharper than she usually makes, but Elsa is beyond caring. She thrusts her arm out and brings the makeshift weapon down hard.
It slices deep into her skin, forcing a gasp from her throat. She watches, finding this one cut enough, as for several seconds it is almost invisible. Then a thin line of blood collects along it's length. Elsa finds that she welcomes the sight and the sting almost like an old friend.
For several minutes she simply stares down at the slit, the cut-crushing anxiety fading away to be replaced by the familiar weariness that she always carries with her. Then she is interrupted by an enthusiastic pounding on her door and the voice of her sister calling her down to breakfast.
Elsa pulls herself from her bed and dresses. Her sleeve rubs against her new wound, and she welcomes the light sting – a reminder that she needs to always be in control of herself. She goes down into breakfast, letting Anna's infectious good spirits lift her mood until she has almost forgotten about the broken window.
I can learn not to be a monster, she reassures herself as she eats, I just need to be more careful.
A/N: Monday signals the restart of college and exam season is near (boo...) so updates may well slow down from now on. I'll to do my best to get you lovely readers at least semi-regular chapters.
