OVER A WEEK HAD PASSED, AND MADISON REMAINED dull-complexioned and scarred. She kept herself hidden from the rest of the coven. It was a change in pace but much needed for her personal recovery process. She wasn't used to not leaving the academy, let alone her own room. However, it was where she had felt safe for the time being; holed up in Corey's bedroom with Ophelia practically superglued to her side.
She enjoyed the silence, deciding not to turn her phone back on. Before she died, she always made sure that the device was in her hand, or her pocket, or her purse. It was an extension of herself. She maintained a consistent need to scroll through an illuminated screen and interact with people she may never meet face to face.
Madison had read more books in the last week than she'd felt she had ever read in her entire 21 years of life. She had a newfound appreciation for Corey's taste in literature. Before death, she hadn't understood the redhead's need to always keep a book on her. Now she hungered for the stories that filled the musician's bookshelves. Though they didn't help make her feel any less empty inside, they kept her occupied while Corey was hidden away in the greenhouse.
What was worse than the absence of emotion within her was the small, subtle, quiet reactions her body had to Corey's presence. She only ever felt anything when the redhead was around and, even then, it was a simple ripple through her skin; or a tingling in her chest; or a vibration in her bones; or a warmth that pulsed from her core.
Before death, Madison would have done anything she could to not feel, to avoid her emotions. What was once a numbness to the world, an indifference to suffering, was now a complete absence of feeling. She would give anything to feel hurt again; to feel pain; to feel the gravitational pull she had once felt just by locking eyes with Corey.
Nothing that the musician had brought up from the greenhouse managed to have any effect. Madison had forced herself to try every eye of newt and wing of fly but she still couldn't feel anything. No matter what she did, she couldn't fill the hole inside of her. She was starting to lose herself, unable to take the eternal silence that came from within her any longer.
The blonde knew that the other witch would be upset, but she couldn't spend another day locked in their bedroom. She slipped into one of Corey's smaller black dresses that hung in the walk in closet. The long sleeves covered the scar that ran deep into her shoulder. She rubbed it sympathetically as she looked through the drawer of chokers in the redhead's jewelry box. She found a thick black ribbon to cover the scar across her throat and tied it around her neck.
On her way out, after finding her own black stilettos, she made sure that Ophelia stayed put, closing the bedroom door behind her. It wasn't enough that the door clicked in place, but it kept the others from being able to peer inside.
Madison made her way through the academy, a light hum leaving her lips as she moved. She was confused to see an extra car out front. It was a rental, parked directly in front of the gate that led to the property. She furrowed her brow for a moment before shrugging and continuing on her way. She assumed it was Fiona, or a gentleman caller that the Supreme had snuck in overnight.
She moved quietly, her high heels clicking against broken cobblestone as she neared the greenhouse. When she peered in, she could see that the redhead wasn't looking in her direction. It didn't take long for the overpowering scent of cigar to make its way to her.
Madison swallowed back the foul words she had for the man who held her girlfriend's attention. She didn't want to make herself known. Instead, she waited just outside, within earshot of the conversation they shared.
"You have been so sloppy in covering your tracks. So distracted by a bitch in heels that you've forgotten how to stay hidden and who to keep close." Her face flinched at Felix's words. He was loud, and angry, yet overly confident in himself.
"I told you the moment you two met that this was a disaster waiting to happen. It's almost as if you want to destroy both of your careers." She waited for Corey to speak up, to say anything in her defense, but the redhead remained silent. Madison let her tongue press against her bottom lip as she tried to understand what could have been going on.
"Samuel Anderson sold photos of you and that slut to any tabloid that would take them." It was then that the blonde decided that she'd had enough. She hurried away, the tears welling in her eyes. The man would never say the words to her face, the demeaning 'bitch' and 'slut' and 'skank' that she knew he used specifically about her when he thought she wasn't listening.
Madison didn't need to be around for the beginning of their conversation to know that Felix had been talking about her. She also didn't need to stick around for the end of it if Corey wouldn't so much as stand up for her. How could the woman who had brought her back from her cold empty death be so silent? How often did Felix call her these things and Corey just let it happen, like water rolling off her back?
She only had one person that she could talk to. One person that she could seek out that maybe had any idea how she felt. She wiped her cheeks with the palms of her hand but they came back dry. Right, the emptiness, she thought.
She had found herself standing in the doorway of the bedroom she had been assigned to share with Zoe. She wasn't sure how she had managed to travel up the stairs and through the large home so quickly. She stood with her hands shaking as she moved through the room, looking for the brunette.
She wasn't sure where the girl was, but it definitely wasn't their bedroom. She wanted to unravel. To spew what was on her mind like word vomit and go back to her day as if nothing had happened. The guttural yell as she walked past the gap between the twin-sized mattresses caught her off guard. She jumped, her hand clenching her dress against her chest in nothing more than an instinctual impulse.
"Kyle," she sighed. She pursed her lips together, trying to find the words to say to the boy who couldn't articulate himself. She sat down on the edge of her mattress, her brow furrowed in thought.
"You were dead," she looked down at her hands as his eyes scanned her face. "So was I." Kyle looked down at the floor as Madison furrowed her brows. "I didn't see a light, did you?" She wanted a yes or a no. A grunt of approval or an angry scream. Anything that could be a response to the questions she so desperately needed answers for.
"Mine was cold, and dark," she felt her bottom lip quiver as he looked back up at her. His mouth hung open slightly. "And then nothing." This time, she felt the tears roll down her cheeks as she let out a soft whimper. Kyle pulled himself up into the bed next to Madison, his eyes moving frantically as he tried to understand.
"But we both came back," Madison shrugged. She pulled her sad lips back into a forced smile. They both came back, Kyle a soldier of death and Madison an empty shell of the socialite she once was. "To this." Her voice was deeper, angrier, as she thought about Felix and his words. About Corey and her lack of a rebuttal to them.
"Somehow, it feels more empty here." The blonde's lip trembled uncontrollably as she held in the sob that wanted to push itself through her chest and out of her throat. Kyle nodded, silently, as he looked down at the floor.
"You know exactly how I feel," she reached out a hand, resting it against the boy's knee. She sniffled, watching his lip quiver as he tried to form the words he wanted so badly to say. Madison could tell that they were on the tip of his tongue, locked behind his teeth and lips.
"You've been wondering if it was worth the trouble." This time the sob snuck itself into her words. She squeezed his knee reassuringly as she watched a single tear roll down Kyle's cheek. "And I've been wondering that same thing," she nodded. Her tongue darted out to wet her lips as her eyes locked against the hem of the dress that she was wearing. The lace barely covered her knees, a modest attempt at hiding the bruises and discoloration that her death had left behind.
Kyle's nose twitched as he pulled himself closer to Madison, shuffling against the comforter on the mattress she never slept on. She placed a single hand on his chest as he leaned in close. She assumed that he would pull her in for a hug. It was something Corey always did when she was moments away from breaking, something she always found comfort in.
Instead, his hands latched against her cheeks as he yanked her towards him. His lips crashed against her own, chapped and rough compared to Corey's soft, pouty, peach ones. His tongue forced its way between her lips, tasting like cheap beer and Jägermeister. She wondered if he knew that she tasted like strawberry bubblegum and menthol cigarettes.
For a moment, she wished he'd tasted like black coffee and toasted tobacco instead. That he'd smelled like cinnamon and charred cedar instead of morgue and gasoline. That his hands were soft like clouds pressed against her cheeks instead of two forced bricks squishing her face against his own. Her hands drifted away from him, hovering in the air as she tried to find a way to break from Kyle's grip without unintentionally injuring herself.
She was reminded of the amalgamation of faces that flashed over her at the frat party. It was the night she had finally lost all faith. The night that she wanted nothing more than to let herself drown in alcohol and whatever prescription drugs she could find. She would have done anything to numb the pain that lingered from that night. To keep herself from ever being able to remember what had been done to her. To keep herself from remembering that she had been naïve enough to trust a complete stranger in a foreign environment on a night that she had just wished to be spiteful.
The jarring echo of shattering glass rang out from the doorway. No, no, no, no, no. Her internal monologue repeated itself in a panic. Her hands fluttered, but the rest of her body was unable to move. She was trapped under the grasp of the zombie frat boy, forced to remember what she had to endure the night that she killed him.
Madison tried to wiggle away from his grasp. She wondered if biting down against his unwanted tongue, which forcefully canvased her mouth, would get him to let her go. She feared his strength; his lack of a grasp on reality; his complete unawareness when it came to his surroundings.
She pounded the palm of her hand against his chest, batting him away. He remained, tongue pressed against her cheek, as she protested. Finally, she managed push him away. She shot up, completely disgusted over the floppy haired boy that looked up at her with sad eyes. Madison's head turned towards the door. She watched the redhead take off in a blur and coughed out another sob.
"What the fuck is wrong with you, Kyle?" She spat. Her nose twitched involuntarily as she stomped away. She heard Corey's bedroom door slam as Kyle screamed angrily. She shook her head, mad at herself for thinking that the boy she had pieced back together would have any concept of complex human emotions. Any concept of trauma and what came with it. Any concept of the bond between two people that seemed to be stronger without the emotional tether that lingered in her humanity. The tears streamed down her cheeks faster as she felt the invisible string that tugged her towards the closed bedroom door.
Madison used her telekinesis to throw the door open. The sound rippled out as it slammed against the wall behind it. She scanned the room, her eyes searching for Corey as she moved. Her heels echoed, a quick click, click, click, as she stomped. She found the redhead curled in their bed, wrapped around Ophelia as she stared at her hands.