various storms and saints / chapter 4
summary: allie pressman knows it’s a betrayal to have a crush on harry bingham, but she can’t help it
word count: 4.6k
read on ao3 HERE
she falls asleep crying for harry and wakes up crying for cassandra, and she isn’t even sure if she’s said a word but her throat is raw from her screams and sobs.
they didn’t even have to tell her, not really, her gut feeling telling her something was wrong the minute she saw gordie crying in cassandra’s room. all he had to do was look in her eyes and she knew, she knew what had happened and from there it’s all black.
she thinks she screamed, that she collapsed on the floor and woke everyone up. or at least will, because she thinks he’s the one who picked her up and carried her to bed and brought her food and water when she wouldn’t stop crying until she fell asleep once more.
and when she wakes up again it’s like a switched flipped inside of her, because now she’s silent. she sits still and stares at the blank wall ahead of her and doesn’t make a noise, and the tears flow down her cheeks and she doesn’t even realize she’s still crying until she feels one tear drop onto her hand. all her friends are crying around her and telling her it’s okay, that they’re there for her, and holding her hand and bringing her soup but she can’t even move.
she’s choosing to feel numb because if she doesn’t she’ll feel like a monster, and she’ll scream once more but not for her sisters death but for how she treated her the last few days she was alive. at that point they weren’t allie and cassandra, they were strangers because of some ridiculous shit she let herself get hurt over, and she can’t believe that their first major fight did not end in a resolution but her planning her sisters eulogy.
all she can think about is things she would’ve done differently had she known. she would have forgiven her sooner, she would have talked to her, she would have told her what she was hiding and who it was she really liked. she would rather take her disappointed glare than her dead eyes any day.
she has no part in the funeral planning, they try to get her to help but she can’t do it, she can’t take charge and help them decide how to say goodbye. she isn’t ready to say goodbye, and she’s pushing it as far back as she has to until goodbye is all she can say.
becca helps get her ready for the funeral, she picks out her clothes and lays them on allie’s bed and starts a shower for her. she tells her it’s what they have to do, and she’ll be waiting downstairs to take her.
she can’t believe that with everything else this is her life now.
sitting in the front pew at her sisters funeral alone, her parents aren’t there, and she’s the only one in her immediate family now. the only pressman, she has family, she has sam and campbell but it isn’t the same. none of this is the same.
and when she hears will yelling she doesn’t need to turn around to know who it is towards, she doesn’t want to turn around. she knows it’s him, and her heart aches and she blames herself even more because that night she was with him and not her sister. the only person she is mad at is herself, none of her pain goes towards him, not today.
“let them stay.” her monotone voice echoes through the church as she says it, her head staying forward but everyone knows what she means and who she is talking to. will moves back and sits next to her and she knows he has questions but he is smart enough to know not to ask.
her entire life she always had cassandra’s death in the back of her mind, always worrying that one day her heart would just give up and she’d be holding her hand in a hospital bed saying goodbye. she knew it would happen one day, she dreaded it but waited, prepared for it. she never could’ve prepared for this, and she thinks the cruelest part is that god made her worry about all that for nothing. worry about her heart when it would be a gun that took her out. she never saw that coming. she never thought she’d have to.
she didn’t prepare any words, she couldn’t bring herself to, and instead she cries out and begs. “who did this?” she screams. “who shot my sister?” her friends guide her away, and it feels like the tears never stop flowing and they never will. “i needed her.”
-
she hates going out, even going downstairs. there is no break, no release from what had happened. her friends don’t act like her friends, they act like business partners asking her about a job she doesn’t want. they tell her things she isn’t ready to hear, and she can’t go on a walk because the whispers are so loud and they all have to do with harry.
everyone thinks he did it, she can hear will talking to the guard when she sits on the stairs about it and when she goes to pick up her food that’s all anyone says.
she’s the only one who knows it isn’t true, but just hearing it hurts because it’s like they all know. they know what she has done and they want to hurt her for it, blame her, torture her with the fact that she was with the boy who hated her sister so much that people think he would kill her.
a part of her argues that they don’t know him at all, that he is gentle and kind and could never do that.
then she remembers she doesn’t really know him either, she doesn’t think anyone really does, not even himself.
so she stops going out, she can’t stand to hear their voices in her head anymore, and will brings back food from the cafeteria when he comes home and no one bothers her anymore. they’ve taken the hint, and they’re scared of how cold her grief is. they worry she is like a bomb, ticking until she bursts, or until she fizzles out into nothing.
the only chaos she knows is the one inside, pounding in her head and beating in her heart, completely unaware of the fact that her classmates are slowly losing their minds. the chaos outside of people going feral, their fear driving them mad, and it’s better she doesn’t know. she might give up.
the only person she can stand to talk to is gordie, he doesn’t pull back any punches. he doesn’t treat her like a child, like all she is is her emotions. he answers the questions she has and tells her the truth, and it motivates her to go on. she needs to know than be left in the dark, only then she can try to understand it all, only then she can try to move on.
and the only person that really helps is grizz, in his silent wisdom and support, the way he gently hands her a note and gives her a tea like he understands what she is going through and what she needs. he doesn’t push and he doesn’t pry, and she wishes the rest would take a note from him and do that to. not ask too much, not leave her completely alone, just be there if she needs in the way she needs.
but you can’t ask too much of people, she knows this, they are all as naive as her. they are all children thrust into a world they were not ready for, and soon enough they will all wield the age of those in war. that is what they will be, children of war, drafted without their consent into the battlefield. the only people they must fight is themselves and each other, because every enemy is human, and a part of that will always lie in yourself too.
and then they ask her the unthinkable. they ask her to take cassandras role, to take over, to be in charge. they ask the girl who wasn’t even on the committee of making decisions to now lead it. she can not believe it, it’s too soon, and she always preferred being backstage than in the light. she can’t understand why they would ask this of her, why they would torture her with even the thought of that.
she can’t understand that even her own friends see her as nothing but her sisters duplicate, the back up to use in case something happened to cassandra.
she can’t believe that no one really sees her for her.
“you realize how fucked up this is, right?”
she walks down the stairs anyway.
“if you’re gonna put this on my shoulders you better be there with me for every minute, every second, of every day by my side.” she is giving it all up for them, giving her identity up because no one else was willing to do that, and for that sacrifice they better fucking be there for her. support her, protect her, because they can’t give her the power then leave her when she needs them most. she won’t let that happen.
she looks at their solemn faces, and she knows they don’t really want her. they’re just scared, and she’s the best of the worst options they have. they’re scared and she’s numb, but she can’t have anyone else feeling the way she feels. so she’ll take that role, protect them from the metamorphosis she will go through, she’s already going through.
she’s already taking a bullet, one right in the heart of who she once was. this is another goodbye she has to say, because to do this she must become someone new entirely. not allie, not cassandra, someone else. and she can never go back to who she once was, not once she puts on that crown and becomes queen.
“fuck all of you, and i mean that.”
-
when she goes to stand in front of them all gordie and will stand behind her, the guard in front, and everyone in between. she must get used to this position, this is her throne now.
she is brief and to the point, and doesn’t speak in the voice of a leader. she isn’t one yet, but she’s learning.
and her eyes keep ghosting to harry, his head down as he looks to the floor.
he never looks back up to her.
she wonders what he’s thinking.
-
allie doesn’t think of harry once in the time that has passed, her mind always on haywire, always being used and abused. everyone comes to her with questions, wanting answers they know she doesn’t have, wanting something from her she can’t give. and she’s scared, scared they’ll do to her what they did cassandra, scared they’ll come against her as she sends the guard out to collect guns and raid peoples houses.
it only gets worse when they arrest dewey, and she can’t even give herself time to think why would harry know about this because they’re putting pressure on her to figure it all out. figure out where to put him, how to handle him, and if worse comes to worse how to punish him.
he’s locked in a wine cellar in another house but it feels like he’s in the same room with her at all times, her mind never off the boy who possibly killed her sister. she tries to work it out, how it could’ve been done, how he could be so evil. she sees it in gordie’s eyes, he’s trying to do the same thing. she doesn’t think either of them will ever get the answers they need.
even with him locked up things aren’t much better, because everyone has an agenda of their own and she feels like the only one without a plan. clark beats the crap out of him, she has no control even over her own people and she has to hide her hands behind her back every time she talks to someone so they don’t see the way they shake.
she doesn’t think of harry until he’s sitting next to her at the trial and it takes everything in her not to break down, not to start crying because she could fall for him and now he sits here apart of her sisters murder trial. he wished her sister dead and fucked her in the same night, and he can’t even look at her sitting in the judges chair and she can’t even look at herself in the mirror anymore either.
so little time has passed and yet she’s already starting to be unable to recognize herself, already feeling as if her dna was changing and creating a new version of herself that can handle this.
her dna isn’t evolving fast enough though, because she still isn’t ready.
on the outside she wonders what she looks like, what they all think. can they see the tears forming in her eyes, the way she tries to hold them back and not show any weakness? or do they only see how cold her face is, how stiff, how so little emotion peeks through it?
can he see past the wall she is putting up for everyone else, is harry even looking, even trying to see? a part of her hopes he sees it all, sees the pain bubbling inside of her partly because of something he said. that he is playing a part in her sorrow.
another part of her hopes he doesn’t see it at all, doesn’t see her weaknesses, doesn’t see how he affects her. she wants him to be cursed with the not knowing, the same way she is cursed with not knowing the full story of what happened to her sister.
she also pities him, because just like her she knows he will never be the same person he was before all this now. there is no going back from this, changing his words or being looked at the same way from their peers. they are both trapped in a change they want no part in, moving too quickly their hearts and souls can’t keep up.
she can’t keep walking on that yellow line in the middle of the street, trying to balance it all, trying to have it all. she has to make a choice of who she wants to be and where she wants to stand, and that choice has already been made for her.
allie is starting to see harry was walking that line with her, tied between the two worlds and the crippling options of who he wants to be. he has to make that choice all on his own though, where he will fall on the sides of those lines, or if he will follow that line until the street cuts out, and by then there is no going back. there is no choice, by then you are in a league of your own and left alone.
despite all he has done she hopes he chooses the right side to fall on, and she hopes he gets off that line.
stay on the good side of that line, stay innocent, stay pure and clean and the same boy you were before all of this. evolve to fit with what has changed but change for the better, because when you cross that line into the unknown ahead of you there is no going back.
she’s crossed that line.
she crossed that line when she decided to execute him. she crossed that line when she put that gun in her hand and against his head and felt it kick her back as she pulled the trigger.
there is blood on her hands and that blood equals power, but the price is not worth it because she can give up her power but she can never wash that blood off her hands. she can never forget what she has done, what they all did.
that’s not the part she hates the most, that she helped in killing a man, but that they made her and yet blame her for it all.
they all sat there, her friends, her family, her guard. they all sat there and chastised her for taking so long, rejected all her other ideas and pushed her into a corner where all that was left was death. they made her kill, they begged her to kill, but when the time came they were filled with disgust. they let go of the gun, they didn’t take any responsibility.
it’s easier to make decisions without the consequences, to have your way without worrying about what will come with it, without the guilt or the masses hating you.
she was the face for their shame, for their pain. she was their queen and their punching bag. she was their doll they could use for power plays and berate when she didn’t do what they wanted.
but that blood was power and they will never have the power she has, and they will never control her this way again.
part of her hopes they never make it home, because for her it will never be the same. everyone else will adjust after awhile, go back to normal, tell their parents the crazy stories and how they had to pick up trash for the entire town or serve meals.
she can’t do that, she can’t move on and change. she can’t walk down the hallways and be a teenager after the things she has done, she can’t tell her parents how she pulled a trigger and saw the blood drip from that boys head. she can’t go to the movies with her peers without them whispering about what she has done.
there is no adjusting for her, there is no going back. they have molded her into something she never wanted to be, and there is no going back.
none of them talk after that, they walk in silence back home and they don’t say a word. they eat in silence. they sit in silence. some can’t stomach it and go to bed, try to forget, try to hope the next day is better than this.
the rest wallow in it. they sit in their silence and none can speak because their thoughts are too loud. their silence says enough and one word could shatter them all.
they sit in the dark too. it’s like they are all invisible to each other, sitting in a different room in a different darkness, but apart of them shares it all none the less. they sit together in their silent darkness because it is better than sitting apart, and because no one will know that darkness better than each other.
then their bubble is broken. he breaks their bubble, and maybe this really is some shakespearean play because harry walks in like some tragic reminder of the idiocy of her own heart. he doesn’t even have to say anything and she feels like she’s been punched in the gut, like she’s choking on her shame and her pain and her broken heart, and none of that pain is real but her eyes tear up like it is.
“hey allie,” harry starts, and through the corner of her eye she can see him stalking closer, on edge, walking on eggshells as he nears her. “allie.”
“what do you want?” she has no time to pretend everything is normal, fine, for small talk. she needs to know what he has to say and he needs to say it quick before she screams in front of everybody. before they can hear the anguish of her broken heart in the way her screams echo at his voice and the death of her sister and all that has happened in just a few days.
“can we talk?” she’s never heard him so soft spoken. his voice once radiated the confidence and power he had in his past life. his voice was one that radiated pride, it echoed in the hallways for everyone to hear. it told you everything you needed to know about him. he was the king, he was in charge, he was the one you wanted to be.
now it was meek and it was weak, it was pathetic. it was the voice of someone with no friends, who sat alone at lunch and whispered in fear someone might actually hear them once and judge them. it was filled with shame, and possibly showed the most true thing about harry. it was the voice of someone who didn’t know who they were and didn’t know their place in the world.
allie once thought harry was everything, flawless, perfect, no worries in his life. he was unbothered, unfazed, that no one could touch him. campbell’s words ringed in her ears and while she never trusted him she knew he was right about this. harry was scared of everything, he was scared of the entire world. before he knew how to hide it, he was an actor after all, and at birth he was given his role and lines and he knew how to play it. it was all bullshit, because beneath it all this was who he truly was. with his role stripped away he is just a shell, just a boy. his crown is broken and his confidence shot, and yet she knows he is still someone she can fall for despite it all.
“not here i mean.” he struggles out in her silence. “just us.” and she knows for the both of them that has another meaning than anyone in the room could understand. they now share a bond just between them, and she almost laughs out loud at how this is what it takes for her to get that.
she doesn’t say anything as she gets up and walks outside, still not able to let her eyes meet his, not even able to look at his silhouette. she walks out in silence and if he’s smart he’ll follow her, because this is the only chance he’ll get.
allie stands on the porch and nods at grizz to go inside, to leave them alone. he can’t fight her, not after what happened today, so he leaves them alone.
her eyes are filled with tears she refuses to let fall, her vision blurry. she could look up at harry and still not see him at all, but even his blurry figure would be too much for her. she looks at her feet and she looks at the street, waiting for dewey to come out of the woods and get his revenge. she hopes he does, drags her with him to hell, in her guilt she wonders if that’s where she belongs.
“i’m sorry. i’m so sorry for what happened and for what i said. i never meant for...” she can’t even fully listen to his speech, too busy trying to keep in the tears and wonder if he wrote that himself. did kelly come and help him find the words? did campbell? or did he get it all on his own.
either way it didn’t matter. words wouldn’t do anything for her now, they wouldn’t bring back her sister or wipe the blood of her hands, and they surely wouldn’t make her the girl she once was. no matter how sweet or sad or pretty they were, the words disappeared with the wind and did nothing. they were vapor, they were dust.
her chin is trembling as she holds back the tears, but she forces herself to speak. she wants meaningless words too, even if her voice shakes and breaks and holds no real ground. she wants her pretty words to fly into the stars and mean nothing like his. cassandra was always the actress but for now she is the star in this cruel play they are acting in, and she’ll read her lines because there is nothing else for her to do.
“you remember how i said i was still trying to figure it out? if you were the bad guy. i think i did. i finally figured it out.” she starts, looking down at her foot as it shakes with all the feelings vibrating inside of her.
“yeah?” is all harry can choke out, and she thinks he might cry too.
she finally looks up, she finally forces herself to. “you’re not. you’re not the bad guy. you’re just an idiot. you had it all so good before, you could say and do whatever you wanted and not have to deal with anything for it. i can’t blame you for that, that everyone let you get away with that, that you never had to deal with any responsibility or consequences. you never learned how important your words can be. i don’t think you’re a bad guy, but i don’t think you’re a good guy either. and i think that might be even scarier. with a bad guy you know what to expect, and they know who they are. you, you don’t know anything. you don’t know what you want to be or what you mean to say. you don’t know how to be good or bad. you just know how to fuck up. but you can’t anymore, you have to decide who you’re going to be cuz you can’t just pretend anymore. not here. not now.”
he nods, and now he’s looking down at his feet and he’s feeling the shame and she wishes he could see the blood that makes her hands itch. she wishes he could see what his words did and she wishes he could see she isn’t the girl she once was.
she wishes he could’ve been better, because her heart still pounds in her chest just looking at him and she should hate him but she can’t. she can’t even blame him for this, he’s already blaming himself enough.
he is like a mirror to her pain, almost the same but not quite, switched, opposite. she is the trauma, he is the guilt. she is the result, he is the cause. she is the future, he is the past.
he walks away with his head down in shame and she watches till she can’t see him anymore. when she goes inside she goes straight to her room, doesn’t say a word to anyone. she locks the door too so will can’t get in.
the only person she lets in in grizz, she’s mad at him but she understands at the same time. he’s the only one in this new world who can make her feel at peace, who when he speaks she thinks it’s truly worth listening to. he’s the only one who doesn’t make her feel manipulated all the time, the only one who actually tries to comfort her.
she can’t even look at will the same anymore. what he did to her was so much worse than what anyone else could have. he was her best friend, the person she trusted most, and he made her kill someone and he made her do it with no regard for her feelings and no remorse for the pain she felt. she never realized how heartless he could be.
harry didn’t mean what he said, that was his problem.
will meant it all, even the bad, and that’s what’s wrong with him.
she shuts the door and closes them all out, for the first time in awhile wanting to truly be alone.
nothing can be the same anymore, she must embrace that.
