 Orion wasn’t sure how to reply to Willa’s question. It was a habit, an instinct, practically a vow she had made to herself to never abandon someone who was hurt. Whether it was someone innocent or something who had just tried to rob her of her own innocence. Sometimes it was hard for her to distinguish her morals from her own needs. Because she hadn’t felt sorry for him while Willa was unleashing her powers on him, hadn’t felt regret about getting out of the car without checking if he was okay. Honestly, she felt like he did deserve to be hurt and to be stopped from ever trying such a thing again. But not that violently, not that severely.
“He’s still a person.” She eventually spoke, but her voice sounded alien to her, like she wasn’t completely there. She didn’t want to think about what just happened. She’d been tired and stressed enough before all of this and was mostly traumatized by the fact that she had been betrayed by someone she had put her trust in. Trusting people was something she valued, she didn’t like it when others warned her about strangers. Because wasn’t she a stranger to those people as well? And she wouldn’t like it if someone brushed her off because they thought they couldn’t trust her.
Of course, Orion was a special case with quite a childlike mindset, who would rather spend a day sitting on a swing set than think about the future. Her belief in the world and everyone in it was probably her best asset and her worst flaw. Living in a fictional world she made up in her own mind was what guided her through life. No matter how often her brother tried to wake her up, she remained stubborn – too afraid to face reality and fall back into the darkness of depression.
She had her arms wrapped tightly around herself, while she ignored the pain in her tired legs and kept walking, just wanting to get home. The rain was still soaking her clothes and hair, but it actually helped her to feel less dirty. Her jaw was clenched and she was glad she wasn’t wearing heels or else she would have tripped over her own feet. She tried hard to keep herself together, tried really hard not to cry. She couldn’t tell if she’d rather take a shower or just curl up on her bed as soon as she got home. Maybe she’d curl up in the shower.
Then someone grabbed her sleeve and she nearly gave in to her instinct to almost aggressively pull away, realizing just in time it was Willa who had taken a hold of her. She forced herself to stay still, though she really wanted to keep on walking. The hug was unexpected and Orion could feel herself freeze in the embrace. Seconds ago she had thought a hug was what she needed most, but now that someone was actually hugging her, she realized it really wasn’t.
Willa’s question didn’t make much sense, but Orion managed to force her arms to wrap themselves around her friend. She swallowed thickly, her voice sounding strained as she still tried to hold back the inevitable breakdown that was building up inside of her, making her chest ache. “Thank you for– If you hadn’t shown up, I don’t– Thank you..”
“So was Chairman Mao Zedong,” Willa answered, and she was being callous, but she wasn’t wrong. When a person hurt more lives than they helped, and in such an grave and unforgivable manner, they didn’t deserve the help Orion could provide. Practically, you could consider Orion’s ability to be a limited resource; any decent human being would want that resource to be used on the ailing innocent and not on any bleeding criminal Orion happened upon. Besides, suppose that man went on to rape a dozen (hell, even just one or two) women. If Orion discovered that, she would feel awful. It seemed her gift was a double-edged sword, in this scenario. “He killed about sixty million people, who were still people. Would you have saved him, too?”
It wasn’t the time for an ethical debate, certainly. However, Willa was even less equipped to deal with emotional trauma than usual. She would feel guilty for that, after a minute or two. In that moment, it seemed most useful to reform a manner of thinking that was far too idealistic for the world in which those two peculiar and empowered women lived. Each decision had to be carefully measured, to the best of a person’s ability. It made no difference, what sort of power you had. If you could kill, or if you could save lives, you ought to do it with discretion. At least, that was Willa’s view, no matter what kind of mind she was in.
She released Orion, sensing the discomfort and strain. All at once, Willa understood that Orion didn’t want to be touched, and why, and that she wasn’t helping much at all anymore. She looked down at the dark pavement, arms rigidly at her sides, and gave an unhappily minor, glissando hum. The rain was still coming, but Willa hardly registered it. She hardly registered Orion’s thanks, either. Something was eating at her mind, distracting her with spots of colour and smell. A memory. Now also wasn’t the time for remembering something, and especially not something foul. As it came, it felt foul, like acid rising up her throat.
She didn’t feel at all well. Orion didn’t, either, and Willa wanted nothing more than to know what was the right thing to do to best help her. Getting home would be a start, she knew, but then what? Would Orion need to speak with someone? Someone who was a little more capable of understanding and responding than Willa was? There was that friend of hers, the one Willa had met only briefly... Or would she prefer to be alone? Even if she did prefer that, would it be best to leave her alone? Once there was someone, then what? Food? Would Orion eat or drink anything? Would Willa be able to make anything for her to eat or drink? Then what? Did Orion get to forget this, after a while? After a day? After a week? After a month? Did she have to remember it, and be frightened, and sad, and taken, and hurt, and unsafe, forever? Is that how people work? Their worst memories sneak up on them over and over, and they’re never rid of them for good?
All of these questions, along with a few more, occurred to Willa near simultaneously. The order was much more screwy and less sensible than the way I wrote it out for you. Her thoughts were a blurry mess all the time, but even more so when her adrenaline was pumping as furiously as it was now. She wouldn’t calm down until sleep found her, hours and hours from that moment. “I d-do ... I do not know what to do, Orion. I am sorry.”
