I look up from the comfortable pile of pillows I'm resting on as Blake walks in. It's my 15th week pregnant, and Blake's 21st. When she takes the charm to hide her belly off, which she rarely does, you can see her baby bump has popped. Mine's a bit bigger than my belly was before, but nothing close to hers. "Hey Blake-y," I smile at her, "whats up?" I wonder why she's here, usually she hangs out with Michael or sleeps in her own Cabin, not that I'm complaining about her visit. I get seriously lonely in here, and the door is just… too far. Pregnancy has caused me to become extremely lethargic.
I'm slightly worried by Blake's nervous frown, put it can't possibly be worse than I'm pregnant. And I've already heard that. "You're not going to like this…" she starts slowly, as if she's scared of me. I don't know why, it should be me scared of her. Scared of the news she brings. Instead of balking in fear, which I want to do, I straighten up.
"You know you can tell me anything." I reassure. That's always been my job, hasn't it? To make Blake feel like her mistakes weren't that bad, even when they were life-falteringly awful.
"I…maybe told Michael." Her voice was small and gentle, as if she expected me to be hurt by them. I laughed; I knew that she'd told Michael.
"Hasn't Michael known about your pregnancy all along?" I asked, "I thought you told him weeks ago." I smiled at her, "He's your boyfriend, and I think you can trust him not to spill your secret." I finished, patting her on the back. I wasn't sure why she was so worried about Michael knowing, but I was there to reassure her. I always was. Blake looked away, her eyes downcast.
"He knows you're pregnant." She replied, her voice barely audible. Suddenly, everything made sense; from her nervous frown to her overly-sensitive voice. There are moments when your heart quite literally skips a beat. When everything falls out of context and you forget how to breathe. This was one of those moments.
"What?" My voice was a soft whisper, low and dangerous. My eyes bore holes in her head, and she looks away again, unwilling to take my glare. I said before, it's my job to reassure her. But I can't reassure her on this, because it's not ok. It's not even remotely ok. I feel as though my deepest privacy has been violated, because it has. She's placed Michael above me. She's told him my secrets.
"I'm really sorry I told him. I know I wasn't supposed to but we were discussing names and I brought your name up and then I had to explain. I'm sorry." Her voice is still quiet, and I want to laugh, or scream. I wonder what she's thinking; maybe if Rylie can't hear me she won't get mad? If she's thinking that, I only have one message. I am mad.
The silence lengthens as my eyes flutter shut. This is my baby sister here. If she can't keep my secrets, secrets that I only carry to protect her, how in Tartarus can anyone trust her with a child? "And what did he say?" I ask at long last, opening my eyes slowly. I keep my voice low, trying to keep the raw feelings she exposed out of my voice. I watch her as she replied, scrunching in on herself and wincing as she opens her mouth.
"He wants you to tell Warner." She lets out a breath, obviously relieved that she finally said it. I'm not. I wish she'd kept her mouth shut, and never came in.
"And who's going to make me tell him?" I ask in a voice that is certainly not my own. I don't get mad. I don't hold grudges, and I don't threaten. But I'm not feeling myself right now, and maybe that's a good thing. I let the fire fill me, glaring at Blake. I may have originally blamed Michael, but Blake was an equal participant, I'm assuming, in how the baby was made. And now Blake is telling him my secrets, getting him involved, and making everything much worse than it ever was.
"Michael will…He said if you don't tell Warner, he will. Tonight." At least this time she met my eyes as she told me. I could look into the eyes of my killer as she plunged the blade in. But a blade can't kill a beast of fire.
"Oh really?" I ask in that scary voice that is not my own, my eyebrows climbing. I can't even register what's happening to me. Half of my heart wants to be the bigger sister, to hold Blake and tell her it's ok. The other half wants to slap her silly, and then kill Michael. Well… maybe not kill him… "And what makes you think I'll ever talk to you again if you let him?" She shrugs slowly, and the act of nonchalance digs her blade a little deeper.
"Nothing? I begged him not to, I'll as him again.. But.. Warner kinda does deserve to know." Maybe blades can't kill a beast of fire, but I'm not exactly made of fire, now am I? I'm a daughter of Poseidon. I should've known better than to trust a flame. If you play with fire, you will get burned... And sometimes, burns can kill.
My eyebrows fall and my anger shatters. "You don't think I know that? You think that doesn't haunt me every day? But your my sister, you're supposed to be on my side.. Just go. I don't want to see you." My voice cracks and I point to the door, my fire burned out and my voice a drizzle. "I can't believe I ever did this for you." I lie, because I still love her. I know in my heart, if she asked, I'd do it again.