#vengeance.arc

[s-camie]

[s-camie]

A knock on the door. Outside of the room is a small envelope, sealed with bloodred wax. Inside it is a single feather, wintery white and half drenched in dried gore. Besides the feather, a note: "Vengeance is yours. ✨"

Camie has been on edge ever since she's been home. She's been avoiding everyone she can in fear of dragging them into her mess (also in fear of them finding out what she's been doing). She's sure her dad knows that something is wrong but she still hasn't told him anything. Nothing about the orientation, or the internship, or who she's been talking to.

But she's been vigilant (paranoid). Worried that someone unwelcome would visit unannounced. So maybe that's why her heart stops in her chest when she hears a knock at the door late into the night.

She calls out an "I'll get it!" in as cheerful a voice as she can muster, shoving a knife into her pocket before she goes to the door. She can't see anyone through the peephole, but she's still cautious as she swings the door open. An envelope. She takes a breath as she picks it up. Her stomach turns. She already knows who it's from.

She carefully pulls up the seal and watches, transfixed, eyes wide as a feather with an otherworldly looking sheen flutters down to the ground. It's pure color has been stained by blood that has hardened and stiffened the softness of it. Her breath stutters and stops.

She stares at it for far too long, taking it in before she even thinks about looking at the note. 'Vengeance is yours. ✨'

She chokes on something between a sob and laugh. Lips curling into an unstable smile. Should she feel guilty? Scared? Happy? This is what she had asked for, after all.

She quickly tucks the feather and note back into its envelope and shoves it into her pocket, heading back to her room as swiftly as she can.

"Camie? Who was it?" Kenshin calls from his spot in the living room.

"Oh, it was just Seiji! He accidentally grabbed something of mine when we were packing to head home. He just dropped it off."

"Oh, okay! I'm glad to hear you guys had a good time. It sounds like that the hero life is really working out for you, sweetheart." She can hear the fondness in his voice.

She closes her door and laughs, tears filling her eyes. Hero. That word feels foreign to her now.

[s-camie]

[TW!! implied self-harm]

She's sitting on the bathroom floor. It's silent. It would be peaceful in almost any other context. But right now...

She's staring at a razor blade. A jar next to it.

She had dismantled her shaving razor in an anxious fit, she had been shaking then, breath heaving. Now she's sitting calmly. She knows what she needs to do. She knows what she agreed to do.

She can't take her eyes off the shining piece of metal. It looks wrong against the pure white tile of the floor. Menacing. A dormant threat.

A breath, then another, then she's picking it up.

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

She's not quite sure how much time had passed between that moment and now, as she's finishing wrapping her arm. It stings, but she barely feels it. It's nothing compared to... to... (Flames. Screams. Begging. Red. Black. Blisters. Gunshots. Knives. Death. Death. Death. Death.)

She collects herself quickly, now only more sure of her decision.

She wanders out of the dorms, a jar full of dark viscous tucked into her jacket. It's dark now. Midnight, maybe. She barely steps out onto the sidewalk, placing the container onto the sidewalk. She thinks she sees a flash of a figure across the street but doesn't stick around long enough to find out. She turns around and walks right back to her room. It's done now.

Hopefully they come through.

They had promised, after all.