You want to laugh because this- this isn't happening. Elsa's playing a really, really bad joke on you.
Except she isn't. You know she isn't and you hate how everything all makes sense. Everything's fallen into place. It was the last puzzle piece, and it wasn't until you got it that you realised you didn't like the picture it was creating.
"N-no," you say, shaking your head. Elsa's still got her eyes shut. "No, my p-parents... it was a car accident. You didn't... didn't..." You can't finish your sentence. Everything's numb, a stark contrast to Elsa, who is sitting as tense as you've ever seen her. Her hands are clenched and trembling. You don't want to say it out loud, to make it real, but it's like you aren't in control of your own voice. "You... you were the other driver..."
She's nodding now, and it's stupid but you actually... don't know much about the accident. Almost nothing. They – the adults who had remained behind; the adults you met afterward – tried to shelter you from it. Truthfully, you hadn't wanted to know the details. Maybe you should have made an effort.
Finally, after what feels like hours of silence, Elsa looks at you. Her eyes are red and swollen, tears leaking out over her cheeks. For the first time, you don't have that flush of sympathy. You don't feel anything, not even anger.
"Please forgive me, Anna," she says. She reaches for your hand, and you can't help the way you recoil. You don't want her to touch you. The marks she left burn still, but this time, it doesn't feel good. You want to throw up.
"You- you kept this from me?" Your voice is barely louder than a whisper.
She doesn't speak.
"I l-let you touch me, but you... you're the reason my parents aren't here? That I'm stuck in a wheelchair?" You have to get out of here; you have to get away. Grabbing your chair, you try to move across, but you're shaking so much that you don't make it. You topple off the sofa, and Elsa springs up to help. Of course.
"Don't." The word is snapped, and now it's Elsa's turn to recoil. She looks like you've slapped her, and maybe she'd deserve that, too. "Don't fucking touch me."
Elsa's forced to stand to the side as you struggle back into your chair. She's watching, and weeping, and you want to cry, too. You want to shout and scream at her, but you don't even know where you'd start, and it's not like you actually have any room to feel the anger and betrayal you know you should. Your heart is too full of this aching swelling pressure that has no name.
She doesn't deserve to cry, not after this. God, you let her touch you, let her get closer than anyone ever had before – both physically... and emotionally.
And then another unpleasant thought strikes, just as you're finally back in your chair. You look up at Elsa, and she hasn't taken her eyes off you. Her whole face is red and puffy, not just her eyes, and she looks like she wants to throw up.
"My job. I got that because... because of the accident. It wasn't my skills, or what I could do. It was just because it was me. Wasn't it? Wasn't it?!"
Elsa doesn't respond with anything other than a wet hiccup, and you know you're right. Huffing, you turn around and make your way down the hall to the guest room. You grab your bag, haphazardly tossing everything back in. When you turn back, you realise Elsa has followed you, and suddenly the anger you wanted to feel earlier is here. It roars to life, and your breath catches for a second at the intensity.
"Get out of my way."
She moves to the side, letting you leave, but she still follows you to the elevator.
"Anna- Anna, wait—"
"What?!" you scream at her. And you've never raised your voice to Elsa, not ever, and maybe that's what has her actually falling silent, harsh – but silent – sobs wracking her frame. There's no room to be sensitive or kind now. "What could you possibly say that could make this any better? I came here last night because I wanted to see a friendly face, and it turns out that my best friend is the same person who put my parents in the ground."
She looks absolutely stricken, but you're right. There's nothing she can say. She takes a breath, enough to offer a, "I'm... I'm sorry, Anna. I'm so sorry," that means nothing to you now.
It's not enough.
You press the button to call the elevator and when it arrives, you get in. The doors start closing and you lean forward to halt their progress.
"I quit."
The doors shut on the sound of a sob. It's not yours.
You manage to make it all the way home before you break. It takes more and more effort to hold onto the anger, because it's the only thing holding you together. The only thing stopping you from just falling apart on the bus in front of everyone is the fury you feel that Elsa... Elsa lied. She lied and she kept it a secret, and for what?
Was it all an act? The friendship, the job, the... sex?
What else has she lied about?
What else is fake?
It's obvious now that everything she's done, it's been because she felt like she had to. To make up for what happened ten years ago. It only makes sense. You're a nobody, barely graduated high school. You hadn't even had your first kiss before this year! You're nothing special and Elsa made you feel important. But you're not.
Only important for her to assuage her guilt, and nothing more.
Joan meets you at the door, mewling, and you push right past her because you... can't deal with her at the moment. You grab some fresh underwear from your bedroom and go to the bathroom and it's only when you're under the hot stream that you find you can't hold onto the anger anymore. Your tears mix with the spray and you close your eyes and just... weep.
You cry for the things you had, the things you lost. You weep for the past, and a future that no longer exists.
Finally, you think you're finished crying. You're ready to wash your hair and your body and face the day properly. Except you make the mistake of looking down, not at your useless legs, but the marks left on them. Elsa's sucked bruises into your hipbones, your thighs, and you remember. You remember everything, from the way she looked to the way she sounded; the way you tasted on her lips.
You throw up.
When you finally manage to leave the shower, you toss on an old pair of pyjamas and crawl into bed. You look over to the bedside table and remember that your photo – the one of you and your parents – is sitting on your desk at work. Elsa must have been in your office a thousand times, must have seen it.
Where the strength to actually go back into your office and collect your things will come from, you have no idea.
Joan jumps up on the bed and mewls plaintively at you, and you probably should have fed her before getting in. The idea of getting up again isn't something you can really deal with.
You feel so... fragile. Like anything could break you. Joan's face, eyes wide as she looks at you, pawing at your face as she begs for food... that might just do it, too.
Sighing, you sit up. Move to the kitchen and get a tin of food for her and it all just feels so mechanical. It has to be because you're not sure if you can cope with it. If you can cope with feeling anything.
Once the food is on the floor with Joan, you make your way back to bed. You're not tired, but you just... you just want to sleep. Escape the world for a little while. Maybe that will make you feel better.
You doubt it.
AN: First of a few chapters without Elsa. Sorry guys! ;_; If you have any questions or concerns, feel free to message me over on tumblr!
Also, I've created an Elsanna interactive fanfic that you can play! The link is on my tumblr sidebar – same name! :)