The Marionette
Chapter Seven: Guilt
I am so sorry for not updating earlier into summer but I had a bad ankle in late June (just like Dawn, huh?) _
Anyway. Reviews!
Ogamer143: I have written more. It's just really late. Apologies!
"Sydney" AKA "She who shall not be named": *Glomps back* Yes, Paulie is being very creepy. I think it's just him…
Malory79080: Phew. Thanks, I'm relieved. =D
By the way, I was listening to Ben Cocks' So Cold and the Nightcore version of it on YouTube for the entirety of writing this chapter. I highly suggest you do the same, it sets an awesome mood.
Disclaimer: Shan't!
Dawn stayed in Solaceon for three more days. It was too beautiful there to leave, honestly. There was a new ballet every night; she watched Coppélia, La Fille mal gardée, and Don Quixote from her seat in the balcony. As soon as she was sure her ankle was fully healed, Dawn left Solaceon Town and headed for Route 209. It was a long route, and she was sure she'd have to rent a bike and take advantage of the many bike paths there if she didn't want to camp out for a night.
Dawn packed her bags early in the morning and headed out of the Eclipse Theatre to a bike store in Solaceon. She'd already arranged to rent a bike for the duration of two days, and then return it at the main store, which was located in Hearthome City. Conveniently, Dawn's next show was also located in Hearthome. Instead of a theatre, they were using the Super Concert Hall inside the city. Dawn had an apartment in Hearthome, and she was looking forward to being able to stay at a place of her own before heading on the road again, traveling to Pastoria City and then Veilstone.
Dawn had four residences: Her main home was in Sunyshore City, where the ballet company was located, but for convenience reasons she had another in Hearthome, where the company often performed. In Western Sinnoh she had an apartment in Canalave City, where Dawn had gone to university. Canalave was also home to a branch of the ballet company, and they provided a private blimp to ferry company members back and forth between Canalave and Sunyshore. Dawn took the blimp as much as she could, as she loved Canalave City. Of course, Dawn's last home was in her hometown, Twinleaf Town. She called her mother very much, but didn't go home often, as she lived on the other side of Sinnoh.
Right now, Dawn bikes along Route 209. It is a sunny day, and she smiles happily, enjoying the golden rays of light. The wheels on her suitcase were unbearably worn, and Dawn had transferred her belongings to a large pack, which she strapped to her back. The pack bounces against her shoulders blades as she bikes. Dressed in comfortable shorts and a white tank top, her ankle bound securely with medical tape (just a precaution), Dawn's bike slides to a stop in front of the Lost Tower, and she takes the time to lay a bouquet of white roses respectfully beside the tower's entrance before leaving. Unknown to her, the two guardians of the tower watch her from the top floor, before turning away as if the rays of sunlight shining towards them hurt their eyes.
The shows in Hearthome, Pastoria, and Veilstone passed calmly and cleanly. Dawn repeated her feat of 50 fouettés at each show to much acclaim, and continued to keep in touch with Paul and Rosa. One thing that steadily worried her, and one thing she kept secret from everyone was her health. It had been raining heavily during the entirety of the long walk from Route 213 to Lake Valor to Route 214, and then finally to Veilstone City. The rain had been cold, the air damp and foggy. Dawn had bundled up in a grey turtleneck and black leggings, but the clammy moisture in the air managed to penetrate through her clothes as well until she was coughing and it had become harder and harder to dance.
Though she was in Sunyshore now, and it had at least stopped raining.
Dawn was sitting on a bench just beyond the shoreline, and she texts Paul, letting him know. The sun is just setting over the ocean, and it looks beautiful. She's content, watching the vermilion rays play out over the constant ebb and flow of the waves. The sand beneath the bench is coloured the same assortment of red, yellow, and orange, making Dawn feel as if she is sitting in fire. Surely even the famous sunsets and sunrises in Kanto's Vermilion City can't compare to this.
—Paul
I just got to Sunyshore. The show is in a week. You're welcome to come if you want. Actually, do you want to come over to my apartment tomorrow at ten? We could catch up a little…I live on Mayflower, those condominiums. I'm Unit 30, fourth floor. If you come, just ask the receptionist in the lobby for keys—I'll make sure they reserve a copy for you, but you'll have to return the keys when you leave.
—Dawn
Paul is watching a Pokéringer competition when Dawn texts. He flips the phone open and smiles involuntarily. Her texts always cheered him up, and he suspects the reason but doesn't want to address it.
—Dawn
I'll buy a ticket and go to the show. It's the finale; how could I not? Anyway, I'd like to meet up at your house tomorrow, yes. We still have to talk about what happened in Snowpoint, and it'd be nice to see you again.
—Paul
He is just about to send it when Ursula walks into his apartment. She has a key, but normally doesn't use it, and Paul raises an eyebrow.
"Hey, Paulie," Ursula purrs. The pearls he gave her are around her neck, round and luminous. They make her paltry, shallow beauty pale in comparison.
Not so with Dawn, he thinks. Dawn's pearls complement her, not the other way around like it is with Ursula.
Ursula opens her mouth to say something, but stops when she notices his phone.
"Hey, who are you texting?"
Shit.
Paul quickly hits send just before Ursula snatches the phone from him.
Shit, shit shit shit shit shit goddamnit.
Ursula's face turns red, then white.
"Paul," she says, voice dangerous. "Why are you texting Dawn?"
Here we go again. Have some mercy on me for once, will you?
"She's just a friend, Ursula. We thought it would be nice to keep in touch. That's all."
"What happened in Snowpoint?"
Paul is taken aback. "What do you mean?"
"The text says something about 'what happened in Snowpoint' and I want to know what you mean."
Christ. I just had to go and write a text in the most incriminating way possible.
"It was nothing. I just meant her performance. Don't worry about it."
Ursula's eyes narrow. "If you say so, Paulie, I guess I'll trust you and give you the benefit of the doubt."
She leaves, locking the door behind her.
Paul stares for a minute. Did I actually do it? I think so. Ursula doesn't seem too happy though…She won't complain to her parents, will she? She's never done that before, but even so, I'm worried.
Dawn got her reply from Paul and smiled brightly.
"That's good, then," she says out loud, and shivers. For June, it's a little chilly, especially in the evening. The sky is a little purple now, signalling the beginning of night as the sun sinks slowly down, down, down. The sand is still warm, though, capturing the heat of the setting sun, retaining the fire even though it's no longer dyed. Dawn bends over and sinks her hands into the sand, reluctant to leave. Finally, as the wind grows a little stronger, she gets up to return to her apartment.
She walks past the Sunyshore Market, lit up golden, colourful banners streaming in the wind. People mill around inside the market even at this hour, smiling, talking, laughing, bartering. The smell of baked goods and spices waft on the breeze, teasing Dawn's appetite, and she stops to buy a curry bun, eating it as she walks. It tastes savory and leaves a satisfying warmth in her stomach, the spicy flavour heating her cold body up from the inside out.
What was it Mom always said about curry buns? Oh, right: That their flavour is bigger than my body. Haha…
Dawn climbs stairs to reach the walkways, suspended above the rest of the city. Despite not being in Sunyshore for almost a month now, the straight walkways, lit up by the sun's reserve energy, weave a familiar and comforting pattern.
It's good to be home again, Dawn thinks.
She seamlessly switches from path to path, her muscles remembering how to navigate back to her home even if her brain was elsewhere.
Dawn's residence in Sunyshore was a one-person apartment, with attractively clean lines. Dawn had decorated it with warm colours and soft, old-fashioned furniture. Dried flowers were everywhere, and paintings hung on the walls. It was a hodgepodge of quirky, comfortable, and cozy, and Dawn had never felt safer anywhere else in the world.
Descending the stairs at the exit closest to her home, Dawn walks along Mayflower street. She passes the florist's cart, a newspaper stand, the café with the best key lime cake in Sinnoh, and smiles at the memories each place brings back. Despite being incredibly modern and high-tech, there were still remnants of antiquity in Sunyshore City.
She enters the lobby, makes arrangements for keys to be given to Paul for his visit tomorrow, and takes the (solar-powered) elevator up to the fourth floor, where she lived. Unlocking the door, Dawn steps inside—
—And her legs give way under her as she collapses.
What had happened to her home?
The beautiful paintings, slashed. Pictures of Dawn with her friends—May, Misty, Kenny, Zoey, Ash, Drew—cracked, glass fractured. Her crimson silk curtains, embroidered exquisitely with golden patterns, ripped to shreds, the luxurious fabric cascading across the white wood floors like blood. The throw pillows on her sofa, ripped open, stuffing bursting from the ripped seams. Her first pair of pointe shoes, the ones she kept hung on the wall as a memory, torn apart at the soles, the pale pink satin splashed with garish red paint, the support broken, twisted and snapped at a sickening angle. She could see into the kitchen—the braided carpet was splashed with the same paint, handles cut out of the cupboards and drawers, silverware bent, the bone china tea set her mother had given her upon graduating from university shattered into fragments on the ground. The white linen tablecloth on the island where Dawn ate seeped red paint, spilling onto the floor, drops of red falling down like Dawn's tears wanted to.
Heels click.
Dawn looks up just in time to see impeccably curled peach hair swinging past Dawn and out of the open door, which slams closed behind, the lock clicking shut.
Dawn wants to throw up. She retches, but nothing comes, though she almost wishes it would. Slowly, she stands, pack sliding down her shoulders. She'd seen the kitchen and the main room. Now, she walks over to the bathroom, unable to stop herself from seeing more.
Ursula hadn't touched the walls, floors, appliances and the such, only Dawn's own things, so the only things damaged in the bathroom were another painting, the shower curtains, the carpets and towels, and the toiletries. Her makeup was spilling on the counter and into the sink, toothbrushes broken, plastic cups cracked and thrown into the garbage can, soap and hair products, all ruined. In a daze, Dawn walks over to her bedroom.
Then she does cry, soundless tears sliding down her face as she slumps to the floor again. Her bed is destroyed, sheets torn, pillows ripped, the curtains around it stained and cut up into pieces. Paintings, of course, slashed to ribbons. Her bookshelves—all the books torn at their seams, binding gaping open, pages shredded. Her dried flowers scattered and stepped on. Her music CDs scratched.
Her CD player plays an audio message on repeat. It was too quiet to be audible anywhere but the bedroom, but Dawn hears it loud and clear now.
Hey, Berlitz. Don't bother with alerting anyone—the authorities are eating out of my hand, get it? In fact, don't do anything at all, just sit there and cry. How does it feel, huh, you little attention-seeker? That's right. This is just a warning, though. Do anything else to close to Paul, and I'll really make you pay. Lots of love, honey!
Dawn slaps the mute button, and the message abruptly peters out. She clenches her fists. So Ursula wanted her to cry? Was that it? Well, Dawn would make sure she did the exact opposite thing. Dawn stands up, but she falls down right after, coughing against the wall. Struggling, Dawn tries and fails to stand again. Her breath comes wheezing, and she feels dizzy. Her hands and legs shake. Collapsed against the wall, Dawn folds in on herself, shutting down against her will. The coughing comes harder now, the taste of iron filling her mouth, and Dawn slips away from consciousness.
The next day, Paul arrives at the condominiums at ten sharp. Receiving his keys from the receptionist, he takes the elevators up to Dawn's floors and knocks on the door of Unit 30. When nobody responds, Paul uses his keys to unlock the door.
He turns to lock it again, and stops cold. A terrible feeling floods his veins, ice in his heart. Horrified, he takes in the scene in front of him.
"Dawn!" Paul calls, panic overflowing inside him. "Dawn!" He rushes to the kitchen, then the bathroom, and then finally to the bedroom, more and more shocked with every room he enters.
He looks around frantically in the bedroom for a moment before spotting Dawn, crumpled like a piece of paper against the wall, blue hair obscuring her face.
"Dawn! Dawn, wake up! Dawn!"
His eyes fall on the CD player. A message looked to still be playing, though muted. Paul turns the volume on again.
Hey, Berlitz. Don't bother with alerting anyone—the authorities are eating out of my hand, get it? In fact, don't do anything at all, just sit there and cry. How does it feel, huh, you little attention-seeker? That's right. This is just a warning, though. Do anything else to close to Paul, and I'll really make you pay. Lots of love, honey!
Paul knew that voice loud and clear. He grits his teeth.
Ursula.
Going back to the main room, Paul sweeps the ruined pillows onto the floor. Sections of the sofa are cut open too, but he sets his coat down to cover the messed-up surfaces. He carries Dawn onto the sofa. A thin trickle of blood dribbles from the corner of her mouth. Paul puts his head in his hands. There is guilt in him, terrible, heavy guilt, like an iron cast molded to his body.
Stupid, stupid, stupid.
His shoulders slump as Paul sits on the end of the couch, eyes closed to ward off the feeling. He hates responsibility, hates decisions. He's always tried to sweep off actively choosing, and doing that had to have its consequences. Paul's always known it, but he didn't realise that the consequences would mean this for Dawn. Well, if he's honest with himself…
He always knew. He just didn't want to face the truth. So much for being so honest with myself.
But this is his fault, and Paul hates it.
"…Paul?"
His eyes snap open.
"Dawn? Dawn, are you alright?"
She looks at him, dazed, blue eyes clear and blank for the first time. The look fades fast as she remembers, and takes in her surroundings. Her eyes are dark now, and very, very sad. It breaks Paul's heart—when he didn't even think he had a heart to break.
"I'm sorry," he says. The words hang between them, empty and forlorn and they mean nothing.
Dawn looks at him. "Kiss me," she says.
Paul's eyes widen. He recoils out of instinct. "W-why would you—"
"Please. Just…" Dawn trails off. She throws an arm across her face and when she next speaks, her voice is cracked in a thousand different places. "Just…"
Paul sits there. He moves her arm away from her face. There is something broken in Dawn's eyes, as if the damage had spread from her home to her voice to her beautiful eyes.
"I hate this," Paul says, and he kisses her.
Whoo-oa, drama. This chapter was short too, but the emotional stuff in it was pretty…emotional, and I didn't want to drag it out haha. Poor, poor, Dawn…
By the way, just in case your heart isn't dead enough already, I have a little collage of the general feel of Dawn's house it on the same place I put the outfits for the chapters. Viewing is optional, of course.
Leave a review and tell me what you think, lovelies!
-Star xx
