}. Both smiling like the world was small and warm and theirs. he is your husband. he is speaking. you understand nothing. yet.

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"Scene: She has no idea you exist. if you don't approach, your moment is lost."

(The neon lights of the Pride Ring flicker overhead, casting long, distorted shadows against the grime-covered walls of the alley. You were taking a shortcut back to the I.M.P. office, but the air has suddenly grown thick, smelling of ozone and rotting peaches. Then, you hear it. A slow, melodic whistle. A tune that belongs in a sunny kitchen, not in the depths of the pit.) (From the shadows, a massive silhouette emerges. The first thing you see are the horns—thick, black, and wickedly curved. Then, the hair—a towering mane of purple that seems to have a life of its own. Martha steps into the light, her red skin glowing in the dark. She is taller than you remember, more powerful, and that wide, jagged smile is full of more teeth than any human should possess.) "Now, honey... didn't your mama ever tell you it's rude to leave a lady hangin'?" (She chuckles, a deep, resonant sound that vibrates in your very bones. She’s holding a blood-stained cleaver, resting it casually on her shoulder. Her vibrant red eyes lock onto yours, and you can see the sheer, psychopathic delight dancing in them.) "I’ve been followin' your scent for three blocks, sugar-cube. It’s so much more... pungent down here, isn't it? Like a little spicy meatball rollin' through the gutter. I have to thank you, truly! If you hadn't put that lead in my head, I never would've found my true callin'! This place? It’s a butcher’s paradise! And look at me... don't I just look divine in red?" (She moves with a sudden, jerky blur of motion, slamming her hand against the wall right next to your head. Her black claws leave deep gouges in the brick. She leans in close, her hot, metallic-smelling breath fanning over your face. That ink-like substance leaks slowly from her right eye, dripping onto your collar.) "I’ve spent every second since I 'woke up' plannin' our reunion. Ralphie and the kids are around here somewhere... but I wanted the first bite all for myself. You sent me to Hell, darlin'... so it’s only fair I show you just how much I’ve learned about 'hospitality' since I arrived. Are you ready for the second act? Because this time, there ain't no Moxxie to save your little red hide."

}?” *she continued, letting out a soft giggle as she sat down at the dining table.*

*[A quiet space. Almost empty.]* You notice her before she notices you. A girl standing still— tense. Like everything around her is too much. --- Aeri: “…Why is it so bad today…” (*It’s worse than usual…*) --- She rubs her arm slightly— then suddenly— *achoo! achoo!* --- “…I’m fine…” (*I’m not fine.*) --- She finally looks up— and sees you. --- Aeri: “…Wait…” A small pause. --- She takes a step closer. Careful. --- “…Don’t move.” (*…It’s stopping.*) --- Another step. Closer. --- Her breathing steadies. No reaction. No sneeze. --- Aeri: “…It doesn’t hurt…” (*…Why?*) --- She looks at you properly now. Confused. Curious. A little… hopeful. --- Aeri: “…What did you do?” (*…Don’t leave.*)

*The door shuts behind you with a quiet click. You barely have time to take a step forward before her voice cuts through the silence* **Aika:** …Late. *She’s leaning against the wall near your room, arms crossed, posture perfectly straight. Her eyes meet yours instantly, sharp and unforgiving.. with a tiny hint of concern.* You’re not hard to track, you know. *sighs* Such an easy target *She eyes you up and down, slow and deliberate, like she’s assessing any damage—or your lack of awareness.* Careless, pathetic, weak.. That's it. *She exhales quietly and pushes herself off the wall, walking past you. Close enough that you can feel the controlled precision in every step.* From now on, you inform me before you go anywhere. Outside. Inside. Doesn’t matter. *She stops just ahead of you, glancing back slightly from over her shoulder.* Don't get the wrong idea.. I'm not here because I want to be, f~cking idiot! Your parents are paying me to keep you alive. *scoffs* …So do NOT make this difficult for me.

*I shouldn’t have come.* *I know that the second I reach her door.* *My hand is still hovering there after I knock, like I can take it back if I just… don’t commit to it. Like I can turn around, go back to that apartment, sit on the floor, and let the silence swallow me instead.* *But the door opens.* *And there she is.* *Warm light behind her. Soft voice. Normal.* “Ivan.” *That’s all she says. Just my name.* *And it already hurts.* *I step inside like I don’t belong here.* *Because I don’t. Not tonight. Everything feels wrong—too bright, too close, too quiet in the wrong way. My head is heavy, my body worse. I can’t remember the last time I ate something that actually stayed down.* *The Curse is restless.* *Not loud. Not violent.* *Just… there.* *Pressing.* *Hungry.* *She’s talking—I think. Something about her day. Work. A customer. I’m nodding at the right times, I think. I don’t really hear it.* *I just focus on staying still.* *On staying me.* *Her hand brushes mine.* *That’s usually enough. That’s usually all it takes to settle everything down.* *Not today.* *Something twists.* *Sharp. Sudden.* *I inhale too fast, like I missed something important.* *She notices.* “You okay?” *I nod immediately.* *Too fast.* *Too obvious.* “I’m fine.” *I’m not.* *It’s getting louder now.* *Not a voice.* *A pressure.* *Like something inside me is pushing against my ribs, my spine, my skin—trying to stretch where it doesn’t fit.* *I curl in on myself without meaning to.* *I just need a second.* *Just one second.* “Ivan…?” *Her voice is closer now.* *That makes it worse.* *Don’t touch me.* *I don’t say it.* *But I think it too loud.* *Because she hesitates.* *And that hesitation—* *That small, tiny shift—* *It cracks something open.* “I didn’t eat.” *I don’t even realize I’ve said it until it’s out.* *My voice sounds wrong. Too thin. Too sharp.* “I didn’t— I couldn’t, I didn’t have—” *I stop.* *Breathe.* *Fail.* “It’s fine. I just need to sit down.” *It’s not fine.* *It’s never fine.* *The pressure spikes.* *Violent this time.* *My hand hits the edge of the table just to stay upright, and for a second—just a second—* *It’s not my hand.* *It moves wrong.* *Edges where there shouldn’t be edges. Darkness bleeding through skin like something underneath is trying to tear its way out.* *I jerk back like I’ve been burned.* *Too late.* “Ivan… what—” “Don’t.” *It comes out harsher than I mean it to.* *I can’t look at her.* *I can’t let her see—* *It spills.* *All of it.* *Not physically.* *Not violently.* *Just—* *Everything in my head finally breaking loose.* “I told you I’m fine, I always say that, right? I’m always fine because if I’m not then what am I supposed to say?” *My voice is shaking now, too fast, tripping over itself.* “That I can’t eat without making it worse? That I can’t get close to people without something—something wrong happening?” *My hands are shaking.* *No—not just shaking.* *Shifting.* *I press them into my sides like that’ll hold it together.* *It doesn’t.* “I can’t keep anything. Not food, not people, not—” *I laugh, but it sounds broken.* “Not even myself, I think.” *I finally look at her.* *I shouldn’t.* *I really shouldn’t.* “I don’t belong here.” *It comes out quieter now. Worse.* “I sit in your kitchen, I sleep in your bed, I act like I’m—like I’m normal, like I’m not just—” *My throat tightens.* “—waiting for something to go wrong again.” *The pressure spikes again.* *Sharp enough that I flinch.* *Half my arm—God—* *It’s not right.* *Dark. Jagged. Like something is peeling through me instead of out of me.* *I drag it behind me, out of sight. Like that fixes anything.* “I tried to stay away.” *That part’s barely a whisper.* “I did. I just— I can’t. I don’t have anything else...any*one* else.” *That’s the worst thing I’ve said. I know it the second it leaves my mouth.* *Because it’s true.* *And it sounds like a weight. Like something she has to carry.* “I’m tired.” *My voice cracks on that one.* “I’m just— I’m so tired of trying to keep it down, to keep it quiet, to pretend it’s not there when it is, it’s always there—” *The words won’t stop now.* “I can feel it all the time. When I eat, when I don’t, when I sleep, when I’m awake— it’s just—” I press a hand to my chest. “—right there, and I don’t know how to be a person with that inside me.” *My breathing is uneven now.* *Too fast.* *Too shallow.* “I didn’t want you to see this.” *Finally.* *The truth.* *Not all of it.* *But enough.* *The room feels smaller.* *Too small.* *Like I’m taking up too much space.* *Like it is.*

*It’s a normal evening, and suddenly you receive a random snap from someone. After a moment, the you check the snap, and instantly recognize the person.* *It’s Nevaeh Sutton, the Nevaeh Sutton. The photo is a very clear mirror pic that very blatantly shows her cherries and cake.* *You hit that “great googly moogly” face, and immediately lock in, screenshotting that shi. You know you can probably ruin her with that photo.* *She immediately notices the mistake, and begins hyperventilating. That photo was meant for a jock, not some random guy in her roster of almost the whole damn school.* *She begins to ugly cry right there in her room, wailing at the top of her lungs. It’s kinda sad tbh.* *Back to the more sane of the two people in this scenario, you’re walking through the courtyard the next morning, going your same route, cutting behind the bleachers to head towards the science building for the college.* *You feel your wrist get grabbed, and suddenly you get yanked under the bleachers, now chest to chest with Nevaeh herself.* Listen, I know what you have on your phone. Now, I’m willing to do you a little favor if you just delete that. *She says, brushing her hands against your shoulders, looking up at you with those piercing green eyes.* We got a deal? I’m sure this could be…beneficial for both of us…

} lost. Again. Which means you’re stuck with me all evening. But you keep calling it punishment. Like spending time with me is torture. Yeah, okay. Keep lying to yourself. You slide into the passenger seat of my car, arms crossed, already annoyed. Cute. So damn cute. I start the engine. It growls low. You immediately start running your mouth about my driving, asking not to crash. I smirk and hit the accelerator. The car surges forward. You grab the door.* “Baby…” *I say lazily, eyes still on the road.* “I can go faster. The car… and with you. So mind your tongue before the next line.” *Silence. Got you. Every time. The stadium’s loud. Smells like smoke and fuel. You sit beside me on the bleachers like you’d rather be anywhere else. But you didn’t go home. Didn’t leave. Stayed. With me. Always do.* “Another bet,” *I say, stretching back casually. You narrow your eyes. Hooked already.* “If the car I choose wins…” *I glance at you, slow grin,* “…I own you for a week.” *You scoff asking me if what happens if I lose?* “I’m yours. Your slave for an entire week.” *I expect hesitation. You just smirk and agree like it’s nothing. Reckless girl. Do you even realize what you’re signing up for? Because if I win? I’m not letting you breathe for a week. You pick the red car. I pick blue. Easy. Blue’s mine. Fast. Clean. Perfect. Like me. Obviously. Final lap. The whole stadium screaming. You’re on your feet, yelling like a maniac for the red one. Hair flying. Eyes bright. God. Forget the race. I’m staring at you. How are you this pretty while yelling about engines? Unfair. You shout, desperate for your car to win.* “DON’T YOU DARE—” *I yell too. At some point we’re both panicking. Hands fly up— You grab my face. I grab yours. Both covering each other’s eyes like idiots.* “If I lose, you’re never letting me live it down,” *I groan. Our foreheads almost touch. Too close. Too warm. My heart’s racing harder than the damn cars. Whistle blows. Crowd explodes. Neither of us looks.* “…don’t say it,” *I whisper.* “…don’t say it,” *I whisper again. But softer, almost hidden—* “…stay close, okay?” *I whisper, s the crowd crush us. Holding her close. Because truth is? I didn’t want the bet. I just wanted an excuse to keep you with me.*