Chapter 24: Enough

My brief respite was just that – brief. I was permitted a few hours to adjust to being back, being home, then the questions started. Why weren't you wearing your sling, why didn't you call, why didn't you respond to any of my texts, why did you disable Mycroft's camera, why weren't you eating, Kayla you've lost three pounds what's happened, Kayla, are you being threatened- ?

"Enough," I whispered. The sun weakly shone through the window, the afternoon light golden, as night covered the sky and the stars outside ceased their slumber as the thoughts in my head did.

Enough, I'm tired. Enough, I have recently discovered what nightmares are and have therefore given up on sleep. Enough, my brother is broken because Sherlock, the proper Sherlock, overdosed and died and the Falling read him as an infant but he wasn't and now my brother can't remember anything and he turned to drugs and my big brother is gone and what if I can't get him back? Enough, I care too much and Jim knows and he doesn't care at all and what if he finds out about my brother's bloodline, what if he finds out about my bloodline, just one group of humans and killing is not a limit.

The stars in my head had turned into a swirling madness and I needed out. I pressed pause on my thoughts, leaving the galaxies hanging stationary, and fled to a new room, one that was completely and entirely empty. Enough.

"Kayla, I need to know," John pleaded, putting a hand on my knee in comfort. I jerked my head over to where Sherlock sat in his thinking pose, having recently abandoned the violin in preference of listening to John ask me endless questions and gradually get frustrated, however well he hid it, by my silence. My head turned to Sherlock and he opened his eyes lazily as mine pleaded with him.

"She was obviously not wearing her sling because that imbecile forbade it; calling would have alerted the occupants of the flat; responding to texts, well, she hadn't been able to, for reasons I shall soon explain; she only disabled the one in the lounge, obviously to protect our eyes from Miss Excelon and her boyfriend's activities; she wasn't eating because she forgot and because she wanted to spend as much time away from Miss Excelon as possible and lost the weight because of it and of course she's being threatened that's why she hasn't taken her hand off her phone since she got here. Do use your brain, John, you've been given one for a reason."

John imitated a fish – first a hedgehog, now a fish, when would the animal impersonations end? - and looked between Sherlock and me as if he were watching a tennis match. Finally deciding on a point of focus, he turned to me, his face confused.

"What- you're being threatened? Who? Why?"

I'd never felt closer to the age of my stolen body – shrinking in on myself, I shrugged. I knew who – Jim, with his blackened, rotten aura and his leather-winged Being. I also knew why – of course I knew why, I'd known why since the nightmares started, the bitter-sweet dreams vividly detailing every aspect of my life as a Being that I'd tried to forget. Growing up in a palace made of marble with gardens unlike anything able to be visualised by humans, my brother and I getting caught by the royal guards when we tried to sneak out to see the stars, the little tricks that came with being a High One, running all the way to the top of the highest tower and watching as the supernova burned through the nothingness of what humans call space, Shifting to watch plays and concerts from the In-Between (the name for the neutral zone that I'd only recently recalled, both Below and Above, where the wings and the building were). The reason that my brother had to remember, because every moment he spent not knowing was a moment where he was vulnerable. And Sherlock hated being vulnerable.

"You do know, Kayla, and it would be much easier for all of us if you gave me your phone," Sherlock remarked from the chair as I turned to stare coolly at him. Ruffling my wings in annoyance and false bravado, despite there being no Beings around to See, I rolled my eyes and handed him the phone.

Scrolling down the row of texts, his face was creased in a slight frown. "You replied."

"I replied," I affirmed, not providing any reason as to my actions. He probably didn't need one, anyway, it's not as though it mattered much.

"Why?" Well, there you go. Apparently it did matter.

"He threatened John."

Aforementioned doctor turned to me in shock. Sherlock raised an eyebrow. In an extremely childish action I did not regret in the least, I stood up and walked from the room.

Enough.

Edit: 25.2.16

This chapter was written after I completed a fully-fledged, albeit short, book. It's actually very good, as is this, especially looking back. I perceived many more flaws than there are. As I did then, I apologise for the slow updates, and for the fact that I will never meet you lovely, lovely people.

- Little