Surviving on Your Own
I Like My Name
It's been twenty days since I last spoke out loud. Catherine's been avoiding me since after our one-sided confrontation last week. She wants me to open back up, but that's just not going to happen anytime soon. I'll do so when I'm ready.
Looking in the mirror, I notice I've lost some of my muscle mass. Now I'm just tall and skinny. I used to work out for a while after the war, but then I stopped caring about that too. I've still got some muscle though, I'm not a twig. Gotta have muscle to be able to launch myself and flip through the air, balance on high wires, and standing completely stock still while having knives thrown at me. Remaining completely motionless is no easy feat.
I blame most of the loss of my muscle on my ever so dwindling appetite. I just never feel all that hungry anymore. And when I do, it doesn't take a whole lot to make me full. So I basically eat the bare minimum of each food group in order to stay healthy. But I've stopped eating meat all together. It weighed in my gut like a ton of bricks, so I don't eat it anymore.
Looking closer at my reflection I see bags forming under my eyes. Weird, I don't feel tired. Another thing I almost never do. Fucking sleep. I lay in bed at night, in the dark, with my eyes close but sleep never takes me under. And if it does, it's for four hours at most. And when I wake up, it feels like I haven't slept at all. I'm not stupid, I know I'm showing all the symptoms for acute insomnia. But it's just a phase, it'll end soon on its own.
Placing my mask on I take one last look in the narrow full length mirror and leave my trailer. It's show time.
In the ring, Manager announces my name. A spotlight beams down on me. The audience oooh's and ahhh's as the find me high above the ground on the tightrope. I have no instruments to help me balance or any protection if I fall, this is all me. I twirl, flip, and glide across the rope, always landing back on it flawlessly. I hear gasps and cheers of encouragement coming from below. One more backwards aerial and I'll be at the end of the rope. As my feet make contact with the high wire again, my right foot slips.
I save myself from falling by placing all my weight and balance on my left foot. The fumble was so small that there's no surprised or shocked sounds from the audience. They didn't see it, good. That probably means my fellow performers didn't see it either. But still, that shocked my senses and a good amount of fear took hold of me. I'm breathing harder, and my heart is beating with a heavy thud-dunk, thud-dunk. I can hear it in my ears.
Flipping down to the ground, I take a bow and the audience applauds. The ring goes black. I make my way to the back in the darkness and try to ease my shaken nerves. Cathy spy's me, and glares. Our knife and dagger gig is up after the next two performances.
By the time we're called up, I've recollect myself. I'm fine now. I take my place at the board, stretch my arms out, and wait. The first dagger lands five centimeters from the left side of my face. The second is the same only on my right. Third dagger, too close to my throat for comfort, but I don't flinch. Another to the other side of my neck, and the last at the top of my head. Damn she must be furious, she never uses all five knives to frame my head. The audience cheers and claps. The lights go down.
We head backstage and I make a b-line for my trailer. Behind me I hear someone say, "Cathy! What was that about? Some of those were way too close!" She doesn't reply and I can hear her stomping after me. I walk faster.
She runs, grabs my arm by the elbow and hauls me around to look at her, "I saw that fuck up of yours on the tightrope, Trowa!" She yells in my face. "You never mess up like that! What's the matter with you? You're more reserved and cold now than when we first met!"
Now I'm angry, I don't need this shit. I yank my arm out of her grasp and start to walk away, only to be restrained by her again. "I'm not done with you yet!" She yells louder. "You look like a fucking train wreck! You're too thin and you look like you haven't slept in a week. You need to take better care of yourself or you'll end up getting injured out there," she points back to the circus tent.
I glare at her, try to remove her hand, but she holds on with a death grip. "Fucking say something!" She slaps me across the face.
"Get the fuck OFF me!" I yell back in her face. My voice is horsed and my vocal cords ache instantly, but it does the trick. With Catherine's hands off me, I run to my trailer, leaving her shocked face behind. So much for twenty days without talking. Back to day zero.
Inside I drink a glass of water fast to sooth my throat. Tea would be better. I put a kettle on the tiny gas stove I have. Turning the TV on, I sit at the edge of my bed and stare. Anger is still holding my body tight. I take deep meditating breathes and will it away.
Relena's on, something about L2 , not sure what, the volumes not on. Seeing her bodyguards behind her, I smirk. They have the same posture as Heero and Wufei, stiff and rigid. Maybe I should join the Preventers and get the hell out of here. I could probably partner up with Chang. We got along alright, at least when he wasn't being an angry son of a bitch. All that self-righteousness and honor crap, it clouds his mind.
Laying down I close my eyes, but I'm not tired, so I allow my mind to wander. I had been so shocked when I found out Wufei had joined the Barton Foundation. At first I thought he was being a double agent like me. I signed up in order to bring them down from the inside. I soon came to realize that he was not fighting on our side anymore. And I eventually convinced him that I was a true member of as well.
He turned his back on us. We achieved the peace we had fought for, and then he went and joined the rebellion and Mariamaia Khushrenada's army. I don't hold a grudge against him for it though. He was stuck on the notion that without war, soldiers like him would be discarded. Or something like that. Heero brought him back to his senses. I'm pretty sure he was the only one who could do that. Him and Wufei are very similar and they respected each other, greatly.
Alright, enough reminiscing. The tea kettle is whistling. I pour the water into a mug and dip a camomile tea bag into it. It's suppose to help you get sleepy. Pfft, that's a lie, it never makes me tired. However, it does relax my throat more than the water did.
Hmm, maybe I should apologize to Cathy. She's only trying to help me, but I don't need her playing sister to me. Cathy thinks I could be her brother. Christ, she freakin wants to do DNA testing to see if I am Triton. The kids probably dead, but she won't let go of hope. And now she's got it in her head that I could be him.
I don't want to know. Either way it will be bad. If I'm not him - which is the more likely the case, like ninety-nine point nine percent sure I'm not her damn brother - she'll be disappointed, and probably stop giving a damn about me. And if I am Triton...well I don't know how I would react or handle that. The idea of having family scares me a bit. It just brings up so many "what-ifs". Plus, I don't want to change my name. I finally have one, and I'm not going to change it. Ever. I like the name Trowa.
