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Gestalt
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Why did you do that?
Why did you do that?
[X] It was reflex. You've been taught your whole life not to snitch; it's gonna take time for you to unlearn that impulse.
Oh, really? Do you really believe that you can blame your family for this? That you can hide from responsibility by crying that you had no choice, because all you did was do what you'd been taught to do?
Why did you do that?
[X] It was family. If you'd helped Glory Girl, it wouldn't have ended with just your aunt behind bars; your brother would've been next, then your mother, if she didn't slit her wrists before that happened. You would've had no one.
Your family are antisemites at best, Neo-Nazis on average, and Evangeline at worst. You carry everything you need to bring down big pieces of Kaiser's little club inside your head, and the first time you had the chance to use it... you kept quiet. For what? Your own comfort?
Why did you-
You're interrupted from your meltdown by an embrace. It's Evangeline, hugging you from one side and snapping you back into the present. You are in the back seat of a sleek, black sedan, with your aunt seated next to you. Her bodyguards are seated in the front, separated from the two of you by a partition. The machine is rolling over the pavement, the sounds of the outside distant and muted.
"You did well," Eva tells you, "I'll admit that, when the feelers I have told me you might be having trouble in your new school, my first reaction was to panic. I was under the impression that I would be swooping in to save from that subhuman filth."
She chuckles. "Ah, I ought to have remembered what my own niece is like; you're not someone who needs to be saved from anything." A pause. A sheepish admission, "You must've had everything well in hand before I came along, hm?"
Answer her. Push
everything into the corner of your soul, and
answer. Her.
"Yes," you tell her. For a moment, that's all that comes out of your mouth, but the stress of the past few weeks suddenly
hits you.
"That all started because Madison bat her pretty little freaking eyes at their neanderthal of a leader," you blurt out, and the dam bursts, "And, thinking that she might let him stick his dick in her if he kicks the
oh-so-scary Nazi girl around, he gets a bunch of his dumbass friends together to do just that. It didn't end well for him, but his friends don't seem to get the
fucking message, so it keeps happening! And now-"
You clench your jaw shut, and force yourself to stop. Breathe deeply.
She sighs. "I'm sorry
."
The worst part is that you
know Evangeline means it, when she tells you that.
"I'll stay out of your way from now on
," she promises you. "But if there's anything I can do, just ask."
The words from her are gentle. Caring. Warm. There is an undercurrent of contrition to them, of someone who knows they made a mistake, and wishes to offset it.
It's genuine,
and that's the worst part.
[] "I will."
- [] There must be something your aunt can do for you. I mean, there's a lot she can do for you, but there must be something in that list that you won't lose sleep over the consequences of.
- [] You have no intention of taking any help from your aunt, but that doesn't mean she has to know.
[] Say nothing.
Evangeline accepts your response without even a pause, and you can almost
see her mentally slotting it into place in her mind. Your eyes are drawn towards the window, looking out at everything passing by. For a minute or so, there is silence, although all it does is allow your swirling thoughts to come to the fore again.
Why did you do that?
[X] It was pride. This is something you have to figure out for yourself, without someone with a cape and a tiara swooping in to save the day for you.
Another excuse. If the only thing keeping you from bringing evil to justice was pride, you had plenty of chances to do so before, on your own. Or are you not a Magical Girl?
Why did you do that?
[X] It was self-preservation. Or do you really believe you wouldn't be painted by the same brush when it all came crashing down?
Pathetic.
Why did you do that?
[X] It was spite. The moment she saw you, she'd immediately assumed you were a Nazi. She tried to make you walk into her fist because it would've been funny. Fuck her.
And what, exactly, were you doing that was meant to let her know you weren't a Nazi? Look around you.
"Rachel?"
Evangeline's voice startles you. Again, you swallow, and
force the maelstorm down below the surface, so that when you turn to face her, nothing is there to be seen.
"Yeah?"
"What did you show Glory Girl?" Your aunt asks. "It certainly seemed to change her mind." A
smile. "Much to her misfortune."
There is the briefest,
briefest moment of hesitation from you. Your aunt looks at you expectantly; curious, rather than accusing.
If you'd had a clearer mind, you could've made an excuse not to show. You could've just lied about what it is --some cheezy self-indulgent fiction, or a report you'd done on Glory Girl herself and capes like her. Or
anything. Anything at all. But at that moment, all that's in your mind is
guilt, and so you open your bag, pull out The Report, and hand it over.
Evangeline holds it with care. Her eyes --a pale gray, the same you see every time you look into a mirror-- scan over the home-made book. Noting the care you put into it. Reading the cover you chose.
She
chuckles.
The cover is flipped open. The contents pursued at speed and
thoroughly, her smile only widening with each paragraph. And then she says the words that chill your soul.
"
'The Holocaust was not only evil by any standard of ethics you can choose... but deeply destructive to the German economy and counter-productive to the war effort, to the point that it could be argued that the camps hastened the end through the resources they consumed, with little if any practical benefit... And yet, their hatred for Jews, Romani, the Slavic peoples, and so on was such, and the terror of going against the party line so extreme, that they went along with that horror anyways. In the end, the NSDAP lost through their own fanaticism as much as the efforts of the Allied powers,'" Evangeline read out, translating the english text you'd written into german with only a couple of pauses.
She leans back, pressing her head against the headrest. "
Ah... I remember when I told you that." she says, wistfully.
You do. You certainly do, now.
"
Sure, the wording is a little different, but... Well, we both must pretend to be something we're not, hmm?" Eva laughs, like someone who got
The Joke. The one that's there for everyone to see, but only
she can understand. She hands you The Report back. You're barely aware of taking it, and slipping it back into your bag.
"
Oh, if half of the degenerates I am forced to call equals had half your brains, we'd be so much closer to our goals..." She bemoans.
"But what else can you expect from watered-down Anglos and Half-Breeds --people who are content with only the most shallow of understanding? From people who never look further than skin-deep --literally-- and think that they know everything already? Who choose to be blind to the lessons of our past, when they're all there for them to see?"
Your aunt sighs. "
One day..."
There is something in her pale, gray eyes that speaks of death, far away in the future. Violent, horrible death, delivered with
glee.
A knock on the partition makes her glance forward. "Oh! Looks like we're here."
She turns, and those same eyes are
kind, as she leans to give you an embrace, kissing your forehead.
"Take care, meine Sonnenblümchen," whispers the monster who loves you with all her black heart.
==========
Why did you do that?
The door opens. You undo the seatbelt and hurry away with a wave.
You're confessing what you just learned to the one person who might understand you.
Why did you do that?
You're walking into Winslow. Your soul
hurts.
You're hugging her, still fresh from a revelation that nearly killed you. She is warm. Comforting.
Why did you do that?
You're stumbling into a bathroom. You can't remember how you got here. You don't know if the halls were empty or filled with students.
Your aunt speaks to you. Your face is buried into her shoulder. She can't see your horror, growing with each word from her mouth.
Why did you do that?
[X] You... you don't know.
You're leaning on the sink. The mirror is cracked and filthy. It cannot hide you from your reflection. Oh, there are differences there, but everyone who's seen the two of you together has remarked that your aunt looks very much like you do. The same eyes, the same shape to the face, the same shade of blonde, the same dimples on your cheeks when you smile...
You feel the chasm. You feel the cold.
[X] You do. It's because, deep down, you haven't changed at all.
And something inside you rebels.
[X]NO
The last light of your soul
ignites. And it
hurts. It hurts
so much. It hurts in ways that you can barely
describe; a white-hot flame burning inside, at a level deeper than the physical. It fills you with an idea that sears into every single synapse of your brain, into every fiber and sinew of your body.
You are a Magical Girl. One day, you will die, like every Magical Girl to come before you, and like every Magical Girl that will come after you.
But not today. You are not dying to this. You refuse.
You summon your Gem. Your soul was only a fifth full this morning, and the spiral of despair has quadrupled the inky blackness, leaving it bone-achingly cold in your hand. But that tiny sliver of light left glows as bright as the mid-day sun.
Your other hand plunges into your jacket's left pocket. Fingers find a single Grief Seed, and close around it tightly enough for the edges to cut, but the pain and blood are as distant as the moon as you pull it out. With a wordless snarl tearing out from your throat, you press the Seed against your Soul.
Your legs collapse from underneath you. You feel your arms shake, your heart beats like a rabbit's and hot tears pour from your eyes. Everything about your
burns as despair leaves your soul, and you clench your teeth and you what you've always done; power on through and out the other side.
It feels like an age. It might've lasted only a handful of minutes. But in the end, as you flick the eye-watering Grief Seed away for Kyuubey to take, as you're curled up on the filthy floor, in a disgusting bathroom, in a school that feels
cursed to never be anything more than a breeding ground for misery, and as you feel like waking up today was a
mistake, you reach for the hope that keeps you alive, and grab it with both hands.
The sink cracks audibly when you try to use it to pull yourself back up. Flex your hands. Try again, more gently. Carefully. Pull yourself up, onto your feet. Steady.
You lean forward, pressing your forehead against the glass of the mirror. You're alive. Remember to breathe. So long as you're alive, you can still change. So long as you can change, you can try to be better. It'll take long. It'll be hard. It'll
hurt. But you can do it.
Why did you do that?
Does it really matter?
You did what you did. It'll take time and some soul-searching for you to figure out if it was the right choice or the wrong one, the good one or the bad, but that'll be something to chip away at later.
You dust yourself off, and use water from the tap to wash some of the grime from your face. You straighten out your hair, breathe out, and check the time.
Stare at the numbers. You're five minutes early for World Issues, the first class of the day. Somehow. Then again, your aunt
did drive you part of the way here...
Now, what to do?
[] Lie in ambush. You will get your morning hug from Taylor, and any comments from Sarah are to be ignored.
[] Scout out the place. The Winslow alumni are not known for being studious, so you'll be alone until they start to trickle in. You could use that time to do... something, maybe? Jam all of The Trio's lockers? Fill Blackwell's drawers with spiders? Break the roof access lock like you should've done, ages ago?
[] Find an empty classroom you can stretch your legs in, and relax. You need it.
[] If this is how today started, maybe you ought to quit while you're ahead and find someplace else. Grab Taylor and bring her along because leaving her alone is out of the question.
-[] Go to The Clinic. You're not an alcoholic, but being drunk off your tits sounds like something that needs to happen, and it might as well be now.
-[] Brockton Bay, shockingly, still has malls. There might be some Normal Girl who is Skipping School things you can do, and you'll do all of them as soon as you can think of any.
)
.
