Heightened Tension- Chapter Eight
It was raining, the drizzling drops hitting the window like pebbles falling to stone. The night sky was clouded over in a blanket of deep gray, casting the city in a dull glow as its shimmering lights reflected off the clouds. Buttercup watched the rain fall from her window, and dimly thought it mirrored her feelings perfectly.
Buttercup was crying, and didn't really understand why. She felt as if a deep shadow had been cast over her heart, and it was slowly draining her of all her sweetest of thoughts. Something was tugging at the very depths of her sanity, just waiting to break her, just wanting to make her feel more and more pain.
But she couldn't stop it, and couldn't figure out how to control it. It was eating away at her soul every day, making her feel more and more desperate with anxiety and torture. She wanted to find something to help her, to make her pain go away. She wanted to stop her fall downwards, and come to a crashing halt.
But she was afraid of what she was thinking, and couldn't quite comprehend where these feelings of weakness had spawned from. It was not in her character to fall victim to her own self pity and fear, but with each passing breath it was growing stronger and more persistent. With each passing day the shadow grew, and made her grow more and more distant from her family.
It was raining, the pattering of the raindrops following Buttercup's own drops of rain as they fell from her eyes. They fell in shiny orbs, and splashed against her folded hands like the raindrops on a Townsville night.
And in the shadows there was a presence that Buttercup could not feel. A malevolent phantom that watched her still form in the window, grinning as he realized his plan was moving just as smoothly as he'd hoped.
***
"Professor, I'm worried about Buttercup."
Blossom sat at the kitchen table a few nights later, where the professor was very carefully going over the newspaper. He looked up at his daughter when she sat down, and saw that her face was the very picture of deep fear.
"What do you mean?" he said, folding the paper and setting it down on the table in front of him. He took the reading glasses from the bridge of his nose and folded them on the table.
"What do you mean, what do I mean? Surely you've noticed she's been acting really funny… again…"
"Well, of course I have honey… but… I think maybe she's just stressed-"
"No! Lord knows I've been stressed before, but I certainly don't act like that!" Blossom cried, raising her voice. The professor raised his eyebrows, and Blossom suspected that she was trying his patience.
"There really is no need for you to raise your voice to me, Bloss-"
"I'm sorry," she cut in very quickly. "I just don't feel good about the way she's been acting. She barely eats, she barely speaks… and she only comes out of her room to take the few measly bites of food that she does manage to force down. I swear, if we didn't have to go to school I think we'd only see glimpses of her!"
"Well, have you tried talking to her? She certainly won't talk to me. She just loses her temper with me… and that's why I've given up trying to reason with her," the professor responded. It was true, that ever since the way she'd acted over the summer, he'd treated her mood swings with a lot more caution. Buttercup was very prone to be driven over the edge, and when she was angry, well, she'd already proven that she couldn't control her emotions. She's even come very close to attacking the professor, and would have killed him if Blossom hadn't stepped in at the last moment.
"And you think she'll talk to me? She just pulls my hair out, remember?"
The professor gave a light nod and a soft chuckle.
"Oh yes, I do remember that."
"This isn't funny!"
"I know it isn't Bloss, but believe me, I'm worried about her too. Until she wants to come out with her feelings, I'm afraid there's nothing we can do."
"I think it's because of me…"
"How so?" the professor asked gravely. Blossom lowered her face to the table and let out a deep sigh. It hurt to talk about it, and it hurt to be so worried over Buttercup.
"She's jealous… I think… of my unique ability…"
"Oh, here we go… Blossom, she'll get over it… she always does-"
"No! This is different! She'd usually just stomp around the house for a few days and grumble about it… but she'd never brooded over it for this long! She's been doing this for over a month! This is much more serious!" Blossom cried, nearly leaping from her seat in exasperation. She could feel tears coming on, and scolded herself for letting her emotions run unchecked.
"Well, she's older now. Maybe she's just taking it differently."
"She's acting like a spoiled brat is what she is!"
"Blossom, now don't talk like that about your sister."
There was silence between them, as Blossom ran over everything in her head. Her sister's adolescent attitude was starting to drain her, and she was finding it increasingly hard to concentrate on her studies, and her job as a crime-fighter for that matter. The professor broke her silence, and grabbed her trembling fist to calm her.
"Just try to understand where she's coming from Blossom. You know how emotional she gets over the fact that she doesn't have a unique power."
"Why doesn't she, professor?" Blossom asked, lifting her face to meet the professor's calm gaze. His dark eyes were glistening over with gentle concern.
"I don't know Blossom. Just try to make her feel special, then maybe she'll feel better again. Give it time. I'm sure she'll come around."
"Do you really think she doesn't think she's special? She's a Powerpuff Girl… how could she think that?" Blossom started, feeling her face grow red with shame. If Buttercup was really hurting that badly, she wanted to do something to make it better, but just didn't know how. It was like she was caught in the middle of a dangerous battle and didn't have any sort of strategy to win. Definitely not a desired situation.
"I know honey, but she feels… not as good as you… because when she always sees you in front of the camera and everybody loves you… well, it just makes her feel unneeded…"
Blossom lowered her face again, her shoulders fallen in defeat. She tried to hold back the oncoming anguish, but the professor's very words battered at her pride like nothing she'd ever experienced. Buttercup's damaged psych was all her fault.
"Am I really that terrible, Professor?" she said sadly, blinking her hidden eyes in an attempt to ward of the stinging surge of tears.
"No Blossom. It isn't your fault. Don't ever be ashamed of the gifts that have been given to you… but just try to remember your sister's feelings as well," his voice was so soft and full of condolence, that it made Blossom's heart give a shudder of guilt. "Besides, who knows… maybe she does have something special… but it just hasn't matured yet."
Blossom raised her face to her father and blinked her bleary eyes, giving up on her attempts to stop the emotions that were coursing through her. She let a tear slide down her cheek, and very gently the professor wiped it from her face with the softest of brushes. She gave him a lopsided grin.
"Do you really think so?"
"I suspect so, yes. Maybe it just takes time for her. You know how stubborn she is… well, maybe her powers are stubborn as well."
And Blossom choked out a laugh that betrayed her masked sadness. The professor bowed his head, but kept his eyes raised to her, and smiled, a face that was so full of paternal kindness.
"Just don't shut her out, Blossom. Make her feel special."
"Okay."
Blossom lowered her face again, and began fumbling with her hands on her lap. Sometimes it was just so hard to keep her cool when she dealt with Buttercup. Sometimes she just made her so angry… and she let that anger get in the way. She knew she yelled at Buttercup too much… but she only did it because she cared. She didn't like seeing Buttercup make stupid mistakes that could potentially cost her.
And something else was on her mind, something else she'd been brooding over for a few weeks, but hadn't worked up the courage to ask the professor about it. But seeing his concern and devotion to her and Buttercup that night actually allowed her to find the nerve to ask the question she'd been wanting to ask for a long time.
The professor gave her one last pat on her hand before he stood from the table to take his tea mug to the sink. He had his back to Blossom, and she remained at the table, afraid to look up at him.
"Professor, I have another question," she asked softly, her voice shaking for fear of the reaction she would arouse in him. She kept her eyes to her lap, and watched as her hands continued to fumble for a grasp on each other, seemingly on their own accord.
"Mm hmm?" he mumbled as he washed his hands beneath the faucet. Blossom could feel her palms start to sweat, and the tingle of nerves collecting in the pit of her stomach.
"You told as… that we were really sisters, right?" she asked sheepishly. The professor turned the faucet off, but kept his hand on the handle. He was silent, and almost looked as if he'd frozen on the spot, like a cornered animal would freeze when backed into a situation it couldn't avoid. Blossom continued, her words rushing out in an effort to spill them out as fast as she could.
"Then we came from the same mother right… then that would mean there has to be a father… so to speak."
The professor suddenly started moving again, and was wiping his hands down on the towel that hung from the cupboard.
"What brings this on so suddenly?" he asked, his back still turned. It was almost as if he was also avoiding looking at her.
"Well… er- we were talking about reproduction in Health… and everyone started looking at me… it was awful…" Blossom said, her voice a little bit louder than before.
The professor finally turned, and leaned against the counter. He was looking at Blossom, and expression of unwarranted anger on his face. Blossom thought that he was mad at her.
"Now why would they do that?"
"Because… Princess… she asked Mr. Chamberlain a question… about us… and asked how it was possible to be born without parents… she said it made us… illegitimate-"
"And what did your teacher say?" the Professor asked heatedly, his face growing very closed as he folded his arms across his chest. Blossom was afraid to continue, not wanting to instill his rage.
"He… agreed."
"WHAT?!"
Blossom flinched back in her seat at his outburst. The professor had done a complete one-eighty. This was not the same comforting man she'd talked to just moments before.
"I… I… well, I didn't say anything. Everyone started looking at me… and I just looked down at my desk and didn't say anything for the rest of the period. I left as quickly as could when the bell rang."
"Do you remember what I told you? Why did you not defend yourself?!"
"I DON'T KNOW! I can't exactly tell everyone the truth! They still all think we appeared out of nowhere!"
The professor put his head in his hands and didn't say anything. Blossom could feel her pulse rising as her self-defense mechanism started to kick in. She might as well just ask him now, he was already angry enough as it was.
"Then, who is our dad?" she spluttered, halting on her words as if just saying it was a challenging task. The professor raised his face and stared, his face nothing like she wanted to see. He almost looked offended, or looked as if some sort of unreadable emotion was fighting to be let out.
"What are you talking about?" He asked, his tone of voice noticeably calmer than before.
"Well…" she started, wondering how she was going to phrase her words without sounding odd. "Embryos only have one set of chromosomes… the whole point of a father is to provide an embryo… with the right amount…" she stuttered, trying hard not to sound overly forward, but failed miserably.
The professor only shook his head fiercely in annoyance, and moved away from the counter as if he was about to leave the room.
"This really isn't the best time to talk about this-" he started, leaving for the doorway in a hurry. Blossom leapt from her set and grabbed his forearm hastily, possibly with a bit more strength than she needed. He halted in his tracks, and suddenly turned to face her, and Blossom almost feared he'd strike her for daring to grab him with so much power.
"Let me go," was all he said, and she finally understood why he was so angry. It was the same shameful attitude that he always reserved for the subject of where they really came from.
"You can't run away from this forever professor, sooner or later we'll find out," Blossom said seriously, loosening her tightened grip on the professor's arm. She kept her face even, and ignored the lingering remnants of her sadness that still played across her face. "Who is it?"
The professor's face changed, and he cast his eyes down in an effort to hide his betraying expression. Blossom already feared that she knew the answer, and knew the reason why he feared to speak of it. He wasn't their real dad, and all this time of happiness and bonding as father and children was a lie.
"Blossom… why do you think I grew to care for you three so much?"
And he didn't have to say anymore, because Blossom realized that her regretful suspicions were the only lies between them.
