Chapter 9
Scars and Stories
As Artemis re-entered the stream, he noticed something. While before he had been alone, now, beside him, seemed to be an entity. Well, not quite an entity, per say, but an unseen presence. That presence felt an awful lot like Holly. Not that you could really tell who it was, but some sort of intuition told Artemis that it was Holly, here beside him as he collected her memories. It was a very weak presence, though. It would probably take more memories to complete her.
As the colors and sensations whipped past him, he saw the subtle changes in the memory he was entering. The colors pouring from it were that of darker tones- grays, black, and dusky blues. It seemed deeper; depressing. Something ominous crept up in Artemis's consciousness.
When the sound, voices and emotions settled within him, he opened his eyes to behold the new surroundings. But this time it was oddly different. He was not here, but more of an invisible third-person.
In front of him was an astonishing site. He appeared to be in a teenage girl's bedroom, with deep green walls, hard-wood flooring, an electric blue desk, and a small bed ensconced in the corner. Atop said bed was a young lady who only half resembled the Holly he knew today. Her short red hair was the same, but highlighting the ends of the spiky strands were deep shades of black. Her clothing looked like something from an emo's dream, and her petulant, deep frown matched it. This, though rather disturbing, was not what shocked him. It was what was in her hand that was shocking. There, in her elegant fingers, lay a small knife. And with this knife, she was... cutting. Small, precise scars riddled her upper arms, and the more recent ones still dripped blood in small rivulets down her arm. She watched in morbid fascination as it trailed down her arm, snaking in delicate circle around her wrist. It pooled over her spiked bracelet and then ran down each finger tip, coating the black nail polish in a new shade. After a few seconds, small sparks of magic trickled from the wound and enfolded the cut in blue.
All of this without even one wince.
She reached over and wiggled her fingers, seemingly over a patch of blue light. As he… floated… over her shoulder to observe her actions, he made the observation that the 'blue patch' was in fact a holographic keyboard. Above the keyboard was the smallest screen, and displayed there was a diary. He leaned in and read it, his heart sinking in sympathy the more he read.
'Cutting is apparently common in human circles, though mostly among teenagers. For fairies, it is only slightly in common with their preferred methods. For humans, it is an exercise in release; an exercise in the expression of emotion. For us, it is an exercise in longevity. How long can you go before your magic makes you pass out? How far can you push the boundaries of endurance, until your energy is spent? How far can you go? How far will you go?'
She looked haunted and defeated, with a bitter look in her eye. And he soon learned why, as she cocked her head to listen. He also did so with his body he hopefully still had. (He couldn't quite tell… vexing.) But as he listened, he was sure a tear smarted in his own eyes.
Voices flitted lightly out of the adjoining rooms, their harsh tones speaking of anger.
"I told you already! Something has to be done about your girl. She has too much stubbornness in her for anyone's good!" A female voice. A girlfriend?
"To much of her mother, you mean." A male. Slightly reminiscent.
"Well, as her mother now, I need something to be done. She is so depressed and scathing. Suicide would not surprise me in the least."
"Maple! That, that is... utterly despicable!"
"Well, so was her mother, but do you hear me complaining? Nooo…"
"Because you know you are supposed to love her! Just like how you used to love me."
Her voice sharpened a notch. "Are you questioning my love for you? If you are, then by all means, I'll up and go. No need to spend time with the likes of you."
His voice wavered as if crying. "No. No. Maple. Don't do this… You know I need you. Holly needs you."
"Funny way of showing it."
The voices faded out as if they were moving to a separate room. Holly exhaled and sunk lower in the bed, shoving headphones over her ears and set the knife in a small slit in her mattress. Artemis sighed and sat beside her, watching the heavily shadowed eyes slide shut, her breathing even out, and her muscles uncoil. She looked so peaceful, so tranquil, and so different from the girl moments before…
He passed a hand over her brow, feeling a slight vein by her ear pulsating. Once again, a pulse.
Thump Thump.
The pulse. The life-giving beat, being temporarily emptied from her vicious cutting.
Thump Thump.
Then he entered the Stream again.
So, regarding the fact that Holly was far from prepubescent when her mother died... ya, that is why I should never post old stories. But cest la vie. Now, I shall go learn how to edit old chapters. (Wish me luck)And if more info on the mom/dad situation and their time of death was released in either Atlantis Complex or Last Guardian, this will not be along those lines, as this was written before them. So this story is still set after TLG, just disregarding any info on the Short parents. Okay? :) (Though I will change last chapter.) The following chapters will be short, but rest assured, there will be A LOT of story after the memories. That is only, like... maybe 1/8 of the story. :)
And, as I keep saying, please, if you want to see my (I hope) quality writing, please check out my story 'Purgatory of the Angels.' It is much better, I assure you. (Though everyone seems to like this... ?)