I know, I know; not only am I a horrible person for that last chapter and cliffhanger, but I'm also horrible for the monumental delay in getting this chapter out. The fact that it's short is also pretty horrible…
And I was on break too…
Anyway, school starts again on Wednesday, but since I seemed to be updating faster with it, that's hopefully a good thing.
Good news though: next chapter is Anna's first fight! Let's see how well I can write a boxing scene!
Chapter Eleven: Down for the Count?
Somehow I manage to compose myself enough to stumble my way to Kristoff's; who I've learned thankfully only lives a few blocks away from Elsa. I'm sure I look a mess, wobbling on weak knees down a New York street, face red from tears, teeth chattering from sobbing, and stopping every now and then to lean heavily against a wall every time Elsa's chilling scream that chased me from her place echoes in my mind.
Luckily, I find Kristoff's building and ascend the stoop before I all but crash into his door in an attempt to knock. My body won't respond to commands and literally all I want to do is drop from the face of the planet right now.
Kristoff must have heard my pathetic thump as the door is unlocked seconds later and I'm falling heavily into his surprised arms—Sven, the Rottweiler I mentioned, coming to sniff my form curiously.
"Anna!" he cries as I begin sobbing again. "Jesus, what happened?"
I open my mouth to answer him, but all that comes out are unintelligible hiccups and gasps. Burying my face in his hoodie both from embarrassment and shame, he's nice enough to not ask me again and instead scoop me into his arms and bring me inside.
He has me on his couch and underneath several layers of blankets, with a steaming cup of hot cocoa in my trembling hands before I can blink and then he's placing himself at the end of the couch away from me, gazing at me sadly.
Taking a cautious sip of the hot chocolate, I manage a small smile—'cause, I mean, it's hot chocolate—and I see Kristoff mimic my grin.
"I thought that would work," I hear him mumble.
"T-Thanks," I mutter, my voice scratchy and hoarse from tears.
Sitting on the arm of the couch, he leans forward a bit to engage me, Sven coming up to the couch and resting his head on my stomach.
"So," he begins almost hesitantly, "what happened?"
Staring down into my mug, I refuse to meet his eyes as I grind out, "I fucked up, Kristoff."
Had this situation been any different, I'm positive Kristoff's response would have been a smart quip such as "what else is new," but with the mess of a person on his couch before him, he realizes this isn't the time or place for jokes. Instead, he runs a hand through the mop of his unruly blond hair as he heaves a sigh.
"Want to be more specific?" he asks.
I set the mug of cocoa on the small table beside me and sit up to huddle further under the blankets.
"Remember Elsa?" I ask and see him nod quickly after. "Well, we had been becoming better friends. It was going so well, Kristoff, and now I've screwed everything up in a feeble, selfish attempt to help her."
"Help her with what?" he questions when I fall silent, choosing instead to pick at a loose thread before me.
Holding his gaze in a steady stare, I warn him silently that what he's about to hear, he can repeat to no one. His unwavering gaze back says he wouldn't dream of it.
"Elsa lost her right arm in a car accident," I whisper.
Kristoff's eyes bulge to the size of dinner plates before he seems to put everything together.
"So that's where she's been," he mumbles.
"Yeah," I mumble back. "She's been hiding the past fourteen months because of her loss. It's not just that, Kris; she lost both her parents in that accident as well."
"And she told you this?"
"We had come so far," I whine, my voice beginning to crack again as a rebel tear trails down my cheek. "She was helping me train for the boxing tournament, we were hanging out outside the gym, I got her to laugh and blush and crack jokes; it was all going so well."
I sniff before I close my eyes tight and grit my teeth. An image of Elsa the morning after the big reveal flashes in my mind's eye, dressed in that NYU shirt, a breath away from me, and seductive smirk plastered on her face.
"I think I was falling in love with her," I whisper before my head is on my knees and I'm crying again.
I feel more than hear Kristoff move from the arm of the couch to the cushion next to me before I'm pulled into his side.
"Hey," he whispers, lightly knocking his head against mine, "it's gonna be okay."
I sniff and look up at him. "Did you miss the part where I said I fucked everything up?"
He just smiles softly again and I have half a mind to smack that smile off his face.
"But I also heard the part where you said that you might be in love with her," he tells me.
"So?" I hiccup. "In love or not, I pissed her off. I fucked up, Kristoff; bad," I repeat, since he seems to be hard of hearing tonight. "I can't come back from this."
His smile falters for a bit as we both pet Sven.
"Well," he begins, "what did you do?"
"I don't know!" I cry, wrapping my arms around my knees and bringing them to my chest. "I mean, I do know, but I don't know why it upset it her so much! All I asked was why she didn't want any kind of prosthetic. It was simple curiosity and she just went off on me. Then, I was like, okay, let's start off with something smaller, so I brought up group therapy; you know, like they do in AA meetings? But that just set her off even more!"
Hiccupping once more, I take comfort in Kristoff's hand rubbing circles on my back before I continue.
"You should have seen her, Kristoff," I whisper. "She…she pushed me. She was backing me up and then she yelled at me to get out. She balled her good hand into a fist before I took off running. She was going to hit me, Kristoff!"
"I don't think she would have, Anna," he says. "It was probably more of a threat."
"How would you know?" I grumble.
He chuckles softly before answering, "Because she was scared. I bet when you left she was mad not only with you, but with herself for how she treated you."
"I don't think so, Kristoff," I mutter, choosing to leave it at that pathetic quip and not bring up her haunting scream in fear I would keep reliving it the rest of the night.
"Still, it sounds like you had her best interests in mind," he tells me. "Perhaps she's just not ready for help."
I couldn't refrain from rolling my eyes. He was sounding just like Milo. I sure as hell didn't need two psychologists grilling me on this.
"But why?!" I shout, evoking new tears. "She's been living like this for fourteen fucking months! And it's not like she's being very subtle about any of this at all! Every time we meet at the gym for training, she's watching me with this longing gaze because she can't box like that anymore. Every time I smile, I see her try to copy it, but it never reaches her eyes. God forbid I mention my parents by mistake, 'cause then it's like I personally shot her in the heart! She's dying inside Kristoff, but she won't let anyone in!"
We sit in silence for a moment while I continue to steam. Kristoff's hand has stilled on my back, and I shift it off me in order to curl into a tight ball against his side.
"Well," he trails off, "maybe tonight will help her realize she really does need help."
When I look up at him with what I'm sure is doubt and uncertainty, he grins goofily before explaining.
"Maybe no one has offered her help since all this happened. You said she lost her parents, maybe she doesn't have anyone else."
She doesn't, I interrupt in my mind.
"Maybe no one's told her she can be more," he continues.
Milo has when he mentioned a prosthetic.
"Even then, maybe it's never been anyone she thought cares enough about her to really mean it."
That causes me to think, no smart remark coming to my mind immediately. Somehow seeming to sense this, Kristoff looks down at me and smirks.
"Until you," he says.
I look away from him quickly as a blush takes over. I hear him chuckle before he ruffles my hair affectionately.
"I wouldn't worry about it, kiddo," he tells me. "To me, she just sounds scared. She's never had someone like you in her life beside her parents, who, for the past fourteen months, she's been trying to tell herself she has to live without now. She's having to adjust to a completely different way of life. You have to admit that can be pretty damn frightening."
"So what do I do?" I ask. "The tournament's in…" I stop to think, and immediately my stomach sinks in both dread and fear. "Two weeks, Kristoff! Shit, what am I going to do without her?"
"Anna!" he cries, his hands holding me down to prevent me from jumping up from the couch in what's sure to be a frantic pace. "One thing at a time!"
Great, as if I didn't have enough shit on my shoulders, the damn tournament is right around the corner?! How did I lose track of that? How did Elsa fail to mention that during our last meeting?
"This is no time to be calm, Kristoff!" I yelp at him, breaking free of his hold and springing out from under the blankets to stand upright, rigid with fear. "Not only was Elsa my friend, but she was my trainer too! Now I don't have anyone to help me prepare for the tournament!"
"I can help," he pipes up. "I may not know the technicalities of the sport, but you've used me as a punching bag enough in our childhood that I think I have the gist of it."
A smile flickers across my face at his jab, before I sit back down on his couch with a huff. My hands come up to rub at my face wearily.
"Even then, how do I fix this with Elsa?" I question more to myself, my voice muffled by my hands.
"You'll think of something," Kristoff tells me before he's standing and situating me so I'm laying down once more. "But right now, you need to sleep. You're exhausted and look horrible, and I'm not letting you get anywhere close to a subway station this time of night and in the state you're in."
I know I should have thanked him for looking out for me like he's always done, but at this moment, sleep sounds fantastic and I'm closing my eyes before I know it.
The last thing I see is Kristoff's warm smile, and the last thing I hear is his gentle voice.
"You'll be okay, Anna."