One Foot In The Abyss || Solo
In all aspects of life, we take on a part and an appearance to seem to be what we wish to be–and thus the world is merely composed of actors. ― François de la Rochefoucauld
Blair swung at the bag, heavy fist meeting heavy surface with a thud, and another, and another. She had foregone gloves or pads, a subconscious kind of punishment for herself. The thin layer of athletic tape was all that protected her hands, and it was already starting to fray and rip. She swung until the chain holding the bag to the ceiling groaned and trembled, threatening to break. It was like a challenge; which one of them would break first.
“I hate you!” She grunted, picturing her father’s face as she beat the hell out of it. “You did this to me, to us. How could you?” Thud, thud, thud. The bag gave no answer. Right now, Blair wasn’t even sure if it was helping her feel better. “Ugh.” Blair turned, letting the bag swing away and then rock back and forth. She buried her head in her hands, flopping onto the mats. Don’t cry, she told herself. Don’t you dare freaking cry.
It was too late.
The fact she was crying only served to fill her with more frustration.
She was supposed to be tough. Wasn’t that what her dad had taught her? He raised her to be a soldier. But then what? He’d gone and changed the war. She sobbed, tears trickling down her cheeks. She didn’t have the energy to sit up for a good few minutes. When she did, she reached for her water bottle and her phone.
No new messages.
No missed calls.
No nothing.
“Of course not,” she muttered to herself, wiping both sweat and tears away with her towel. All it had taken was Lilian showing up and it was as if every one of her weaknesses had been exposed. Her appearance as that tough girl who wouldn’t let anything bother her was up. Sunlight, wooden stakes, beheading? Screw all that. Her real weakness was her sister. But she was also her greatest strength. That dichotomy was what made it all the more difficult.
She stared into her phone with vacant eyes. Did Lilian even have her number? Why would she expect her to call? Blair had been saving her sister’s number in every burner phone she’d got since her father had turned her. She’d never used it. She didn’t even know if Lil was still using the same number. She started typing, her fingers hitting the touch-screen with preternatural speed and yet also with an uncertain hesitance.
‘We have to talk about this. Please don’t hate me.’
Her finger hovered over the send button. She scoffed, shaking her head. “Nope.” She tried something else, more to the point.
‘Talk to me.’
No, not that one either. Blair ran a hand through her damp hair, letting out a frustrated groan.
‘I only did this for you. You know that right?’
Again, she deleted it. In the end, she sent nothing, simply because she didn’t know what to say. Blair turned her phone off in frustration. Even if Lil did try to contact her now, she’d get a voicemail or texts that would go unanswered for at least a few hours. Let her sweat, she thought, as if she wouldn’t be turning the thing on and checking it obsessively again in a few minutes. The tough take-no-shit hunter was battling with the vulnerable, over-emotional fledgling vampire and leaving Blair unsure who she even was any more, let alone what she should do.
She caught her reflection in the surface of her phone. Even if you ignored the unflattering angle, she looked like a mess, puffy eyed and red-faced, hair looking like she’d been dragged through a hedge. “Jesus Christ,” she sighed, brushing back her hair with her fingers and standing up again to reclaim some slither of feeling of control. “Get yourself together,” she told herself. Blair was in the middle of wiping her face with a moisturising wipe and trying to stop crying long enough to reapply enough make-up to make her look human when the door swung open.
Blair turned, raising her fist, instincts springing to life. She was coiled up like a spring, ready to unload. “What do you want?!” she blurted out without even stopping to think about it.
“Holy crap, B. You expecting someone to rush in here with a stake or something?” her colleague Jason snickered as he walked in, dropping his gym bag on the bench.
“That’s not funny,” she answered, lowering her fist, untensing, just a little. Not too long ago, she had been the one rushing in with the stake. But he didn’t know that.
“Yeah, yeah. My bad. I didn’t know the studio was booked. You mind if I do some floor work?” Before she could answer, he’d got close enough to get a decent look at her face. “Have you been crying?”
Blair stiffened, acting like she was just really, really interested in something in her bag and not like she was avoiding him. “No,” she scoffed. “Of course not.”
“Blair…” He stepped closer to her still, a newfound concern in his voice.
She clenched her fist. She felt like a cornered animal, but what was she going to do? Fight him off? Now that he’d called attention to the fact she was crying, it was like she couldn’t stop herself, the embarrassment of someone catching her in a vulnerable situation only adding to the dizzying cocktail of emotions.
“I’m fine,” she insisted, not very convincingly.
“Okay. Do you want me to leave you alone?”
“Yes,” she snapped, and then, once Jason had nodded and started apologetically picking up his bags, she uttered hesitant words that surprised even herself. “Maybe… No. Fuck.”
He came back, apparently recognizing that she needed him to make an executive decision for her. “It’s okay. C’mere.” God, he was going to hug her, and Blair didn’t even have the fight in her to stop him. In fact, she kind of wanted it. She exhaled, just leaning into him and sobbing into his shoulder like a damn wreck. Jason held her, patiently soothing her and stroking her hair. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen you so much flinch at a stubbed toe, let alone cry.”
“Yeah,” she huffed. “Don’t get used to it.” She clung to him loosely, tears leaving a wet patch on his shirt. “Sorry,” she muttered. “I hate this. I can’t… people can’t know.”
“I know.” He smiled soothingly, not knowing the full meaning behind her words. It wasn’t just that she didn’t want people to know she could cry. There was another secret that put her at even greater risk. “I won’t tell,” Jason answered, and Blair found herself wondering if he really meant it. He kept soothing her, being a better friend than she deserved while she calmed down. “What happened?” he asked, sounding almost afraid of the answer.
For the longest time, she was just quiet, apart from the low sobs. She wondered if she should answer him, tempted to simply say it was none of his business. Something made her decide against it though. “My sister’s here.” Blair lifted her head from his shoulder, giving a small nod to tell him she was okay now, or at least as close as she could be. “She knows I’m a vampire. And…” Blair struggled to get the next words out of her mouth. They hung there, like a guillotine. She looked at him, practically begging him with her gaze. Please be trustworthy. Please. “It’s complicated. I… I don’t do it any more, obviously…”
“What?” he asked, continuing to look at her. “What is it?”
The room got colder as she managed to say the words. “My family… We used to be hunters.”
Jason’s jaw dropped a little and Blair simply stared at him. She wouldn’t really blame him for rushing out and warning every werewolf or vampire he knew. She wouldn’t blame him for hating her. Why had she even said anything? After what felt like ages, he let out a low whistle. “Damn, maybe I shouldn’t have let you get too close to me,” the werewolf teased. “You got a silver bullet up your sleeve?”
“Shut up.” Blair lightly smacked him with her towel, but in spite of herself, she managed to crack a smile.
“Nah. If I shut up, life would be boring.” He picked up his stuff. “I was gonna get a workout in, but I think I should take you drinking instead.” He gave her a wink. “Hit the showers and clean up, okay? I’ll meet you outside.”
It was weird, something so simple could stun her into almost silence. Blair nodded, barely able to answer. “Okay.” She showered, drying her hair and applying her make-up. She didn’t wear much of it. Just enough to make her feel like a person and not a monster. Just enough to make her feel – and look – like her old self. Her heart was still pounding, her emotions were still heavy, and her body was still pumping with adrenaline. But she had opened up, even if only a little. And the world hadn’t ended. At least not yet.
