Heightened Tensions- Chapter 19

Bubbles couldn't seem to sit still, and Blossom wasn't entirely sure why.

They both occupied their room, the two of them silent beyond any sort of conversation. Neither of them really knew what to say, and Bubbles didn't in the least look as if she was in the mood for chatting. Blossom desperately wanted to ask her what had happened, to get the facts straight and to calm her overly anxious mind, but by the look of her sister's pacing she was anywhere but in reality.

She paced back and forth quickly, constantly glancing out of Blossom's circular window like she was expecting something to be outside. Blossom watched her for a while, curious, at the same time trying to come up with something to say that was consoling. Altogether she seemed traumatized, and her expression, while just slightly panicked, held a far-off, haunting gaze in her eyes that made Blossom want to keep her mouth shut.

Blossom looked at the clock, and was surprised to see that it was already nearly three AM. It was a good thing it hadn't been a school night, or they would have all paid for it dearly in the morning, if they'd even bothered to go to school at all. After an ordeal such as the one nearly three hours ago, none of them were in the mood for learning, even Blossom.

Bubbles finally stopped pacing and stopped cold in front of the window. Her body stilled, and she watched silently as the moving lights of Townsville twinkled in the distance. A late-night traveler hummed by in a car, and for a second Bubbles's face was set on fire with lively white glow. The hot sapphires of her eyes, while just for a brief moment, were sparked to life as the headlights passed by the window, creating an unnatural radiance to her features. Her expression, while magnified by the sudden light, only became more intense with the added aid in visual, and Blossom finally felt it was time to break the ice between them.

"Look, Bubs… why don't you get some rest…" Blossom said coolly, standing from her bed and moving a few steps towards her sister. Bubbles turned to her just slightly, her expression very grim.

"I won't be able to sleep…"

"Well," Blossom said, sighing, feeling a tense tightening in her patience. "Why don't you at least lie down and try… Buttercup's fine… and she'll be better in the morning…"

"But, I'm not fine…" Bubbles said blankly, her eyes shifting into a surreal mechanical stare that reminded Blossom all to much of one of Mojo's robots. Blossom opened her mouth to say something in response, but Bubbles turned on her heels and swiftly disappeared behind the sheet that separated their room. Everything was silent after that, and instead of following her, Blossom decided to give her some privacy for the night, and figured she'd be okay in the morning.

Blossom sat back down on the edge of her bed and nervously drummed on her knees, thinking hard. She was trying her hardest to forget what had transpired between her and Him earlier, but was finding it difficult to drill it from her brain. Just thinking about it made a sickness well up in her stomach that she couldn't describe, and a hopeless regret battered around the insides of her skull to no avail. She should have said something to her sister's sooner. She should have told them about Him earlier. How could she have allowed something like this to linger on for so long? It was certainly too late now. She'd angered him, and had definitely shattered any sort of civility that had sprouted in such an irregular relationship. There was no telling what he'd come back and do to her, and the possibilities were endless and terrifying.

But she'd never cared for him, at least not in that way. Had he seriously been thinking that she'd developed those sort of intimate feelings for him? Surely he wasn't that naïve, for he had always seemed much more intelligent than about ninety-nine percent of the people she'd always come across. The thing that was bugging her the most was the idea that perhaps she had been sending him signals unintentionally, leading him to the conclusion that she'd been more interested than what was true. Or perhaps she hadn't at all, and he just didn't care. He had certainly always believed that he had the right to anything he wanted, and Blossom suspected that he made no exception when it came to potential intimate partners.

She shuddered, closing her eyes tight against the world around her. There was a tingling in her gut, an all to familiar region where a certain scar laid, one that she could never forget. He'd given her that scar, and he'd tried to end her life before. There was no guarantee that everything in the last few months hadn't all been a big scam to screw with her even further, ultimately ending in her destruction. She had to remember that, and she had to keep telling herself that she should have been more careful before. She should have told someone, and she needed to keep her mode in the right line of perspective so that she'd stay more alert. Now it was a time for caution, and she had to be ready for anything. Everything that had happened tonight, remembering the fear that had moved her to action, had only reinforced what she'd thought at the very beginning. She could not trust Him, under no circumstances whatsoever.

Blossom stood again, looking around her room for something to occupy herself with. As long as she wasn't alone, Him wouldn't come, at least she hoped.

But finding that there was nothing to keep her busy, she decided to go and see if the professor was still awake, for she had heard him stir less than an hour earlier. There was still the fact that he'd yelled at her, and anal as she was, she wanted some form of closure on the state of the mood between them. To put it simply she wanted to offer some sort of apology, because she could never relax if someone was upset with her.

Creeping out into the hallway, Blossom noted that the house was silent. Slightly disappointed, knowing that her father had probably fallen asleep for the night, she considered just for a moment trying to go to sleep herself. But, the prospect of slipping into a mode of unconsciousness, now that Him was very obviously displeased with her, didn't seem like a very desirable affair. She remembered how he'd slipped his way into their dreams before, very nearly killing them in their sleep through their nightmares. Now that he was pissed, she figured there was no limits to what he'd try. After all, he'd nearly succeeded that time, and if he wanted to ensure a place where they wouldn't be disturbed and he was guaranteed a kill, then Blossom figured that would be the first thing he'd do.

She was thinking on his level, the way she always had, and that was exactly what put her in this turmoil in the first place. She was an equal, and there was only room in this world for one of them. Him knew this too.

Blossom opened her door all the way and padded out into the hallway, straining her ears for any movement, any sound that would tell her the professor was awake. There was absolute silence, unsettling silence, and there was a tense energy in the air that made her feel as if terrible misfortune was about to befall them all. It felt like a disaster waiting to occur, one that would never be avoided, one that had been stewing for a long time.

About to? It already has.

Blossom breathed evenly, and stopped just short of the professor's door. It was cracked open, and the light was on, so Blossom decided to take a chance and peek inside.

She gripped the edges of the thick white door and slowly pushed, poking her head around the edge as it brushed the thick carpet beneath. She took in the room, and found the professor sitting on the edge of his bed, his back to her, staring out the open window with his elbows planted firmly against his knees. Blossom didn't say anything, afraid to disturb him in his thoughts, but didn't want to turn her body to leave. He had always been the last ounce of sanity in their house, and she needed that type of company now more than ever. But, judging by how he'd lost his temper earlier, she wondered if his thick outer shell of a sound mind was finally starting to crack at the pressure.

After a few moments of silence, sensing the change in atmosphere, the professor turned his body around and met Blossom's baleful stare. He studied her carefully for a second, drinking in her pained expression, before his own face fell in a deeply tortured frown. After another second of this, he held out a firm arm to her, an obvious beckon for her to come closer. She heeded the call instantly, and rushed into the room, her eyes spilling over with the tears of stress.

Blossom fell against him, trying to stifle her tears, but unable to calm herself despite the smooth warm arms around her. The professor held onto her tightly, burying his face into the softness of her hair, the sweet gesture of fatherly comfort she'd been craving all evening. There was something in the deepness of his breathes that told her, he wasn't angry anymore.

"Blossom… I'm sorry…" he said finally, a thickness in his voice that told her he was on the verge of his own tears. "I'm sorry I yelled at you…"

Blossom nodded, her head tight against his chest, listening intently to the swift bleating of his heart against his ribs. She wanted to say something, but couldn't think of a single word that was even appropriate. All she wanted to do was lie in his arms forever and never let go, because just as she had in her own hospital bed, tight in his arms, she felt protected. Not from physical harm, but from the emotional kind.

"I'm just frustrated… with your sisters… with everything… I'm tired of being in the dark like this… I'd always thought that you would tell me everything… and now I feel so secluded…"

Blossom sat up and clumsily rubbed at her face to wipe the sticky tears away.

"You think you're clueless? They don't tell me a damn thing either… they haven't been telling me anything, and its like they're both part of this secret moping society that we aren't members of…" Blossom said thickly, her voice heavy with her emotion, croaking like the frogs she always heard outside her window.

"And now Bubbles… she's pushing me away… my happy little girl… and Buttercup is collapsing… and they both walk in here beaten in the middle of the night… screaming… I didn't know how to react… I'm losing my mind and I never thought I would…" he said, his voice calm, but his face anything but. His brow was deeply set, showing the rarely seen lines of age on his angled face. For a second Blossom almost didn't recognize him, because his expression was the saddest she'd ever seen.

"Its okay professor, you don't have to apologize to me… I understand… I'm surprised you kept as calm as you did. I would have erupted ages ago…"

"That isn't the point Blossom… I feel as if I should have been doing more. I've been so caught up with work… I should have paid more attention to you three…"

Blossom sat up straight and looked out the window, peering into the darkened windows of the neighbors behind their house. The night seemed quiet, and the sky was clear, the stars blinking down at her with their own words of reassurance. She felt the professor's soft hand brush a thick chunk of her bangs from her eyes, and she turned to him with her eyes down, her cheeks blushing a soft pink.

"I'm really not very good at this fathering thing, am I?" he said quietly, continuing to his brushing swipes as if it was a task he'd been assigned to. Blossom looked up immediately, completely startled.

"No! That's a horrible thing to say… none of this… it has nothing to do with you… it has everything to do with me. I've always been… sorta' their internal caretaker, and I've just gotten so careless and reclusive. They've gone astray without me… and you… you've been the greatest father in Townsville…"

He looked at her blankly, almost embarrassed, his eyes wandering nervously to other points in the room.

"Think of all the nonsense you've had to put up with… because of us… now this… is the worst ever I suppose… but we've always made it through everything…" Blossom stopped and hugged the professor again, and he returned the gesture with much gusto, holding her tightly.

"I don't like yelling at you three…" he said quietly, kissing the crown of her head gingerly. "I love you honey, you know that if you ever need to talk… to tell me anything, I'm always here…"

"I know. I love you too professor."

"I just wish your sisters knew that."

They sat there for a good while, holding each other in the soft honeyed glow of his bedroom, watching the moon make a trail across the sky. The house remained silent, and the only noises that shattered the peace were the soft creaks of the walls and floors. After a while, Blossom heard someone enter the bathroom, and figuring it was Bubbles, she ignored it.

Then, she felt her body jump to high alert. There was a presence, a strange one, and she could feel its noxious waves moving through the very bones of the house. She perked up, sitting fully upright, jacking up her sensitive hearing to pick up any noise that was out of place. Was it a burglar (HA!), Mojo packing serious heat? A monster?

Was it Him?

The professor noticed her distress and went silent, watching Blossom carefully as if he'd become deeply interested in whatever she decided to do. Her gaze turned to the wall, a blank stare of concentration but her eyes saw nothing. The only sense she put into action was her sense of sound, and at that moment there was nothing.

Then as if an elephant had been airdropped onto their roof, there was a bellowing crunch from somewhere above. Both Blossom and the professor jerked spastically, surprised, their breathing speeding up simultaneously as thick, thudding footsteps moved above them.

Blossom stood quickly, her eyes trained upward, waiting for anything to come tearing through the drywall of the roof. She held the professor down with a solid hand, and pushed him to the ground for safety, just in case anything decided to come crashing through the large fragile window that stood before them.

Then all quieted, calmed, save for the thunderous rapping of her heart, her stress responses putting her body into fight mode. Finally she regained her vision, her eyes darting from corner to corner in the professor's room, but she saw nothing.

Then she remembered Bubbles, the vision slapping into her hard enough to bring her back to her senses. Bubbles was still healthy enough to fight. Blossom needed her help, because something was about to attack.

Blossom left the professor's side in a whirling flash of glowing pink, re-entering her room in record time, Bubbles's name rising to her lips in a pleading scream for help. She tore the curtain away, certain she would find Bubbles sleeping, but what she really saw came as quite a shock.

Bubbles's side of the room was empty. She was gone.

Blossom shivered, feeling cold air eat at her body almost instantly. Instinctively she looked to the window, and immediately put two and two together. The window was open…

Running to the window, she leaned out into the night sky, her eyes scanning the darkness for her sister, or for the attacker from the roof. She saw nothing, only inky blackness, broken by the occasional house light or street lamp. There was nothing on the street.

"BUBBLES!"

There was no response, and Blossom turned her body to look to the roof, to see if the strange visitor was still above. Everything was once again silent, the last remnants of her scream bouncing through the night air.

Confused, and slightly hysterical, Blossom brought herself back into the room, feeling her body shake with high adrenaline. She closed the window, her body overcome with a fit of tremors, both from cold and rage. Bubbles had ran away… that little brat ran out on us… while Buttercup is lying ill in her bed… that little bit-

"She isn't here Blossom…"

With a frantic yelp Blossom spun around, raising her arms in retaliation to a blow she was certain would come. Him stood behind her, his face devoid of emotion.

"She left."

"I NOTICED!!!"

"Blossom I really think you should calm down, because I come bearing a rather important message."

She stared at Him in disbelief, hardly fit to believe the words he was saying. Who did he think he was, barging in on her after he'd just nearly tried to take advantage of her? She was in no fit emotional state to entertain his nonsense, given her high state of panic and alarm. Bubbles was gone, and someone, or something had been on the roof, and now Him was standing before her, trying to act casual as if nothing had happened between them just hours before. The whole situation was positively revolting. Blossom was angry at Bubbles, she was angry at Him, she felt desperate for Buttercup, and she didn't have the faintest clue what had just decided to stomp around on the top of the house.

Whatever it had been, it was gone now. What had it been doing anyway?

"Were you on the roof?" Blossom asked Him through her gritted teeth. She could feel the tenseness of her jaw, the chords in her neck tightening with rage like a support wire ready to snap under intense weight. Him examined his claw leisurely just as a person would turn their gaze to their fingernails when bored. This pissed Blossom off even more.

"You seriously aren't very high on my list of favorite people right now…"

"Oh, I think I will be once you let me finish what I was… going to say," his voice shifted into the leisurely drawl that had always made her hair stand on end. It was strange to hear it now, after all the time they'd spent together he'd kept his voice low. Him was strange that way, changing the octaves of his voice whenever he felt like it, and during their evenings together, he'd always spoken in the deeper masculine tones. Now, he reverted back to the chirpy falsetto that had always made his character so unique, but Blossom only found it even more aggravating. It was almost like he was mocking her.

"Fine… then-WHAT?!"

"Well, I would think twice about leaving you're sister alone with sharp objects. She's liable to do something stupid… especially with her degree of strength and the right… persuasion…" his voice changed again, into something so thin it was like listening to air moving through a tunnel. He looked at her squarely, his green eyes very focused and glimmering, and Blossom though she saw the faintest inkling of a grin on his lips.

"W-what?!" She didn't quite understand what he was getting at, but at the same time her mind was quickly putting the pieces together. Alone… sharp objects… oh no… noooo…

Without giving Him a second glance Blossom ran towards him with the doorway to the hall as her goal. Instead of stepping aside Him disappeared, leaving a shadow trail of shimmering smoke in his wake, dispersing rapidly as Blossom ran through it. She shivered… so hot… like running through fire…

But that was the last thing on her mind at the moment. She ran straight for Buttercup's room, only to find with horror that her sister's door was wide open. Blossom skidded to a halt just outside the doorway, moaning with exasperated panic as she saw that Buttercup was nowhere in sight. She wasn't in her bed.

Turning frantically, Blossom went to the next door, the bathroom, and slammed against it. She rapped hard, hoping to god that Buttercup was just brushing her teeth and that everything would be fine.

"Buttercup?! Are you in there?!"

There was no answer. Blossom froze for a beat, not sure of how to react, and not understanding what was happening. She knocked again, harder. Still no answer.

"Buttercup?!"

She was in there alright. The light was on, and Blossom could see the golden sliver from beneath the crack under the door. She was in there… she's not responding… something's wrong…

Blossom didn't want to believe the truth, but she knew she was right. She was finally understanding exactly what Him had meant… He's the devil… he knows this… oh god, please let her be okay…

"BUTTERCUP! I'M GOING TO BREAK THIS DOOR DOWN UNLESS YOU OPEN UP!!!"

"Blossom, what in the world is going on?" the professor had emerged from his room, his face very anxious. He watched Blossom cautiously, unsure of what was going on and not wanting to get in the middle of it.

Blossom stepped back, preparing to kick the door down, not paying any attention to the professor who was standing a mere four feet away. She felt panicked, every piece of her overrun with the fear of knowing, of knowing what she would find. She was nearly in tears.

Then, as if someone had flipped a dial to slow motion, the door slid open, a choking cry emerging from the widening crack. Blossom screamed, and the professor cried out harshly as Buttercup fell through the doorway to the floor. In an instant Blossom was upon her, catching her in mid-fall as she mumbled a pathetic yelp of fear. Her body was flimsy and limp, her limbs shaking with fatigue. The two of them sunk to the floor, Buttercup's dead weight bringing Blossom down onto the ground.

Then Blossom saw blood, lots of it. It was everywhere; all over the floor, the bathroom, and it was covering her sister like a thick wrapping. The professor screamed again, crying loudly as he dropped to the floor next to her, latching instinctively onto both of Buttercup's wrists… her wrists… Blossom saw-

Buttercup had cut her wrists open, something Blossom hadn't seen right away, but the professor had zoned in on it instantly. She'd harmed herself… her purity…and now she was bleeding her life away on their hallway floor. For a second Blossom saw herself, back in the laboratories, lying on the cold stone, wasting away in a pool of gummy crimson. As if finally being shown the light, Blossom realized the terror her family must have felt on that night, because she was overflowing with it; it was slapping her hard in the face.

In mortal fear Blossom scooted away, gasping heavily for the air she was having trouble taking in. She stared dumbly at her sister's poor, closed in face, her fluttering eyes, her ashen skin… her whole body was shaking… she was going into shock.

"BLOSSOM GET HER A TOWEL!" The professor was screaming again, not out of anger, but this time out of fear. Blossom wasn't thinking straight, and through her jumbled state of mind she did the first thing that came to her mind.

"STOP YELLING AT ME!!!" she bellowed back, her voice jumping to the loudest she had ever managed. In her haste, she grabbed her sister's limp body, tearing Buttercup out of the professor's grasp. He fell back, completely affronted, his eyes widened with enraged horror. For just a brief instant, Blossom looked deep into Buttercup's darkening eyes, and saw her sister's last ounce of strength, pleading for help and forgiveness, but it was fading fast. The real Buttercup was deep inside of there, lost and confused, hurting, and losing touch fast. Buttercup must have managed to cut in deep, because the blood was thick, and she was losing at an alarming rate.

"Go now-" Blossom said very abruptly, before she lifted her sister from the floor, not caring as splashes of blood dotted her bare knees, sliding down the skin of her calves. She turned before the professor could say anything, and ran, not caring how she was going to get there, but knew where she wanted to be. She'd hoped she'd never have to see it again.

It was time to repay the favor her sister had granted her months ago.