Author's Notes

I wanted to get this chapter out to you earlier, but I've just started driving training, (I'm legally blind, so this is a big to do; ask me how!) so I haven't had the free time that I did have. For those of you that are familiar with my original work beyond Here, in my Head, (though, that counts too, you just don't realize it) specifically Perilous Mobility, then you're going to recognize a character. And don't worry, I promise this isn't going where it appears to be. I'll never actually do something like that, because I find it tacky for unknown reasons.

Warnings: yet another OC (sorry), use of the word "fuckery," paraphrased Willow line, Emily / Jazz friendship exploration

Octahedron

Chapter Four: With Twilight as my Guide (Part 1)

By Persephone's Nautical Nun

I'm bolted from within,
From long, conniving heights.
The hail, it makes a special sound
That always stays into the night.

She tells me I'm not capable
Of what they accuse me.
With no remorse, I stand and say
That guilty is what I plead.

My devil makes me dream
Like no other mortal dreams,
With a blank eye corner.
The only way to see him
In the tunnel where he slept,
By the longest tusk of corridors,
Numb below the neck;
In my heart,
Where he keeps them in a vault
Of devil daughters.

"Emily! Where the fuck's your head at?" Everywhere, Jazz. Nowhere. I don't know. Not here. And certainly not back there. "We've got a show in a week, so sort yourself out." Nod. Not actually paying attention. Just acknowledging her yelling so she won't yell some more.

Do it again, from the top, over and over and over. Voice doesn't even sound like mine anymore. It's some other girl's, who knows who she is and rocks the system. I just rock my world. Still not right, and if looks could kill, Jazz would be a murderer. Jessica refuses to look anyone in the eye, and who the fuck knows what Ange is thinking at any given point in time? Sorry guys. Sorry for fucking this up and making it horrible.

Goddamn, the slave driver's never kept us this long. Really? No one leaves until I get this right? If it were anyone else, I'd test that theory, but Jazz is a scrapper. Right. Just gotta do this, then. Not hard. Just have to forget that today happened at all. Forget it all, set it aside, and settle into the music. "Alright, I guess that'll do." I'll fucking take it, if it gets me out of here. "But get it together, Emily."

Absent nod. Wave of the hand. Yeah, yeah, I hear you. There actually is a part of me that takes it seriously, recognizing a source of income. I'm just tired, and irritable, and miserable. In fact, finding a rock to crawl under sounds like a fantastic idea.

Grab your water and step outside. Drink long and deep. Nearly choke as you hear a familiar voice behind you. "What are you playing at, Emily?" Yes, of course. Should have seen this coming. Andrew is not AJ. Of course he would have told Naomi as soon as she got home. Because he cares.

Huh. Your eyes look like blue fire. Do you know that? Feign confusion, and watch the fire intensify. Fascinating. "Did you get it out of your system? Are we finally fucking even?" Yes, actually. For the time being. Probably won't last.

You look lost, which offers me a strange kind of validation, as though everything I've done has been right. But that can't possibly be right. I should say something, but I've forgotten what words are. Probably for the best, because I'm sure whatever I would say would be completely the wrong thing.

You speak for me, though, so I don't have to worry about it. "I have been so goddamn patient. I have done everything right, and I have faced everything you have thrown at me without flinching. I have taken every punishment you've handed out. I don't know what else to do. I don't know what you want."

"Don't you get it? I don't want anything. That's the whole fucking point." My own anger surprises me. Where did it come from? Stopped in her tracks, eyes defensive and mouth open but silent. What's wrong, Naomi? Don't know what that means? Don't know how to respond? "Besides, it's not like I did anything you wouldn't do. Bit hypocritical, don't you think, love?"

You straighten up and thrust your chin out. Hadn't noticed you'd been hunched in anger. Slow head shake, and I've never seen you so passionate. Interesting. "This isn't a game of 'Anything you can do, I can do better.'" How long have you been preparing for this? Your tone is low and hollow, and not at all what freshly upset Naomi sounds like.

Bring yourself down. Mirror her calm. "You sure about that?" Okay, yeah, stupid question. "You have no right to be angry with me. We owe each other nothing."

She looks away and shakes her head again. Maybe I really have pushed too far. But what other option was I left with? "Who's lying, now?" Stop looking at me like that. Let me go, I don't want your scrutiny, and I sure as hell don't want you in my head. Not right now. "We owe each other everything, Emily. I owe you everything." Silence. "I'd die for you." Please don't. Die, I mean. And promise never to live for me.

"I never asked you to." Cool. Calm. Unflinching.

"Isn't that beside the point?"

"It's exactly the point, Naomi." Stare down. This is getting us nowhere. Come talk to me when you figure it out. None of this means anything, and the only thing we're accomplishing is to hurt each other and push each other further away. Or maybe that's just me.

"I'm so angry." You're not talking to me. Your voice is soft and your eyes far away and I don't think you realize you've said it.

I answer anyway, and it brings you back to the situation. "Good." Turn and walk away. Leave her and don't look back.

"What happened to you, Emily?" Don't stop. Don't acknowledge it. "I'm not the only one to blame for this." I know that. Believe me, I know that. Bit past blame at this point, though. Ignore the ice settling into the warmth in your stomach. Push it all away. Find yourself again. Do whatever it takes.

This is what I'm talking about. Haven't done this for weeks. Why did I stop doing this? Feel the thrum of the bass travel through the floor, up my legs to settle at the base of my spine. Night's not young, but there's still no reason to rush. Move to the music; sway and rock, get a feel for the mood of the place. Who's here? Where's a face I've never seen before? No one looks interesting. Well, fuck.

Move further into the throng of people, as close to the center as possible. Feel your body and find your rhythm, and wait for your prey to come to you. Glance at the eyes on you, feel the want and the intimidation. Let it fill you. Turn away from the first girl brave enough to try to join in. Not interesting in blondes, tonight.

Well, this is interesting. And a first. Tall, dark, and handsome on my right, and a fellow redhead on my left. Catch the challenge between them as they lock eyes. Alright, we'll play. Acknowledge both of them as they move in closer and dance with me. Tall, dark, and handsome finds my hands and twirls me, catching me in her arms. Conquering this one would be interesting. And a challenge I just may be up for, because she has no idea what's really in store for her if she wins.

But the redhead's behind me, and in a very creative move, manages to get her arms under tall, dark, and handsome's, and her hold on me's broken. The redhead's hands are on my hips, guiding them to patterns and places that would make my mother blush. Turn my head to catch a glimpse of her eyes. Must be a trick of the light. No way they can actually be electric green.

Tall, dark, and handsome is quickly forgotten and discarded, as this redhead makes you feel things you haven't felt in months. Despite the day I had, I know tonight's going to be fantastic. "I'm Sam." Her breath is hot and moist against my ear. Oh god, I genuinely want her. Thought I'd lost the ability to do that.

But I don't really care what your name is, honey. And good luck getting mine from me. This is just about tonight.

When did it start raining? Why don't I care, as I push my hand through the redhead's rain soaked clothes to find her stomach? It's heavy, and sounds like the blood rushing through my veins. She steps forward, backing me against the wall, hands on either side of me. No doubt about it, she must have contacts. Not quite as bright as I thought they were, but just this side of unnatural.

Oh, I see. You think I'm one of those girls. The look on your face is going to be amazing when you find out I'm not. Glad you're just as challenging as the other one. Didn't lose anything. You don't see it coming. You don't expect it, because I'm little, but you're pressed against the wall on the other side of the alley, my knee digging into the brick between your legs. "Take me back to your place." Not a question. Not a request. A demand.

And she does. Of course she does. What other choice does she have? She chuckles, and thinks it's cute when I pin her hands above her head. But she doesn't know, yet. I've told her, but she doesn't believe me; tries to take control of the situation, but a hard scratch and a bite just hard enough to draw blood tells her she's not getting her way.

I take from her, and she gives to me, and I think she understands my frenzy. It's never been like this before, didn't know it was possible; this primal act that is both rough and cleansing. Maybe it's the act of wanting and enjoying another person. When was the last time I let myself do that? Not since Naomi, when things were good.

Lay tangled in a mass of flesh and limbs, and I register that this is the part where I find my clothes and leave. Except I've had a hell of a day, and I'm drained, and I'm satisfied and sleepy. What harm could it do? She still doesn't know my name. Already forgotten hers. I'll leave in the morning. Before breakfast. Hopefully, before she wakes up.

Warmth. That feels good. What time is it? Where am I? Oh, that's right. Stayed at that girl's place last night. Fuck, where is she? Sheets are cold. Must have left a while ago. Should probably leave, too, but the sun's beating down on my back. Few minutes won't hurt. Not if I've been here this long.

Alright, that's enough laying around in a stranger's bed. Time to get up and out of here before she comes back. Knickers, bra, and trousers seem to be here, so where the fuck's my shirt? Search for several minutes before finding it in the living room.

She doesn't seem to be here. Could take the time to snoop. Won't. Don't care enough. Never setting foot in this place again, so I don't care about who lives here. Note on the door. Something about class, coffee, and locking the door on the way out. Ignoring the first two parts of that, and the last is common courtesy.

Double check your stuff, make sure you're not forgetting anything. Flip the latch and secure the door. Spliff sounds good right now. Fag'll have to do until I get home. Alright, now think. Where are you in relation to the club and where is the club in relation to home? Should be in that general direction. Guess we'll find out.

Took getting lost a few times, and a couple of miscalculated turns, but things start looking more familiar after several blocks, and after that, it's autopilot. Can hear Jazz as I turn the key and open the door.

"Okay, do you live here, or not?"

"I live here, I live here. Sorry."

"You're in a good mood." Why the hesitation, Jazz? Shrug. Guess I am. "So where were you, last night?"

Flop down on the couch. Sigh. Where's the weed? There it is. Start rolling a spliff. "Spent the night at some girl's place." Lick it. Stick it. Yeah. Light this fucker up. Jazz's silence tells me everything about her astonishment. Please, it's not that big of a deal.

"Oh." Finally. A response. Only took me waving a spliff in your face. Use the smoking time to collect yourself. "Are you going to see her again?"

Jesus, don't sound so interested. Head shake. Violent one. "No. It was just a one off. We both knew that. I was just exhausted."

"Hmm. Okay." Fake compliancy is not compliancy. Eh, oh well. At least we're not talking about it.

"So what's up with this talent show fuckery?" Take the offered spliff. Hit it. Sip on it. No hurry. The idea of a talent show is even worse than a battle of the bands. And one at the university, no less? The only reason we're allowed entry is because Jess goes there part time. "Why can't we have an actual paying gig? Why does it have to hinge on whether or not we out perform someone else?" Hand her back the spliff.

Shrug. "There's just not anything going on right now. It happens now and then. Usually see it around mid-term and finals week." Break to toke. "Everyone's preoccupied. It'll pick back up."

"You do know we don't have a chance in hell of winning this thing, right?" Oh, spliff again. Cool.

Why do you look mischievous, Jazz? What do you know? "Why would you think that?"

"It's going to be a popularity contest. The only one of us that even goes there is Jess."

"Ah, but you're forgetting how long Jessica's been around here. And the fact that she knows and gets along with pretty much everyone. That, coupled with the fact that we have a hot new, gay, foreign singer, and I'd say we're a shoo in."

Why had I never noticed it before? Knew it happened with me, so why did I never think about it? "You're very methodical about the way you choose your band mates, aren't you?" Hand back the spliff. Indicate you're finished with it.

That's a crazy look. "You're just not figuring this out?"

"It's not about the music at all, is it?"

Uh-oh. That's your serious face. I've seen it before, I know what it means. "Oh no, it's very much about the music, we wouldn't practice as much as we do if it wasn't. We're all very good at what we do. Even you. You've morphed into quite the performer. I've just noticed that if we have certain roles filled, we don't have to work so hard to get attention. It's just given."

"Alright, so explain Ange." Dare you. Because nothing can explain Ange. So go on. I'd like to hear this.

Another shrug. "Angela's the dark, quiet, mysterious one. I've seen many a tortured English major fall over themselves trying to impress her with their extensive vocabularies."

"So in other words, you don't know anything about her."

"Not a fucking clue. But she's the best damn drummer I've ever heard." This is true. "Girl knows what she's doing." This is unarguable. Never heard anything like the creative shit she comes up with.

This is nice. This is good. When was the last time I just sat on the couch with Jazz and hung out? Everything's been happening so fast, one thing after another. Feels like I've been running on fumes. Guess I have. Has it really only been three days since the party? Seems surreal. But I feel calmer than I have in a while. Must make a note to do this more often.

But of course it can't last. Because I like it. I like it, so it must be destroyed. "So are we going to talk about it, or just pretend it never happened?" Just don't know when to leave well enough alone, do you, Jazz? Ask what she's talking about, because that's just what you do. Didn't need to, of course. Knew the answer already. "Whatever happened with Naomi last night. What's going on?"

Bite your tongue. Don't get prickly. You just had a conversation about how you need to stop pushing her away. She's your friend, and she cares. "She's mad at me because I slept with Andrew." Shocked silence. Awesome.

"When did that happen?" Why do you sound so careful? What are you tiptoeing around? Not like the outcome of this situation affects you at all.

What the hell. "Yesterday, before rehearsal."

"Well, that explains a lot." Think if you had a newspaper, you'd snap it open and start reading it randomly. As it is, you're stuck with pretending your nails are terribly interesting. I don't believe you. You can't make me.

"Go ahead and say it."

"Say what?" Please, that didn't even sound like confusion. And what's the point in playing this game, anyway?

"Whatever it is you want to say."

Looks like she's going to try to play innocent again, but I think my face tells her no. "I just don't know what you're doing. And I don't think you do, either."

You'd be wrong on that count. "I know what I'm doing."

"Okay, and what is that? Because from where I'm standing, you're spiraling out of control."

"I know. I know it looks that way. Sometimes, it feels that way." Things always look differently from the outside, and I know how my lashing out looks. "I'm hurting her. Because I've told her, and that doesn't work. Nothing I tried worked. It was kind of the only thing left to me, and I think it finally did the trick."

"Don't you think you're doing it the wrong way?"

"I don't know what other way to go about it."

Silence. "Maybe you should see last night's girl again."