Hazelslut

Penny: how busy are you on a daily basis scale of 1-10

Liliana: the fuck kind of question is that?

Penny: the kind that comes with a job offer

that gives me pause for a long moment. i chew my nails while i think, and you bounce your knee on the other side of the screen impatiently. i type out my response in a rush and press send before i can think twice.

Liliana: 1. what's up?

Penny: Moss and i just landed a big job renovating a house and i need like five extra hands for the next few months. can you be two of them?

Liliana: fuck it, better than sitting on my ass. yeah, let's go.

>-<

i meet you at the work site at 7am, just like you told me. there's a dyke i don't recognize that, based on the hair color, is probably Moss. there's another bitch almost as big as me, maybe an inch or two shorter and a few pounds lighter with graying hair and visible wrinkles. rounding out our little group is a scrawny kid what feels like half my height and a quarter my weight. he looks like he can barely swing a hammer, but he's got a well-worn toolbelt and is paying keen attention to you as you break down what we're going to be doing for the next several months.

i tuck it all away as you talk, filing each room and what we're doing there away for later. i start to build a list in my head, one that you and Moss already have, of everything that's gonna be needed. working by myself for so long it's become habit, keeping these lists in my head as i go. there's not always time for me to stop and write down what i'll need, erasing and starting over and over and over. it's easier if i keep it in my head.

"Moss, take Leo in the truck and go pick up the lumber. i want him to see where we get it and watch you with the guy. you wanted to learn, kid, so we're gonna give you a crash course over the next few weeks. keep your eyes up and your ears out, don't be lookin' at your phone while Moss is showing you the ropes. they're not gonna slow down for you, okay? if you can keep up we'll keep you on until the end of the job."

the kid, Leo, nods intently. you hand out assignments like they're divine pronouncements, and you seem a little arrogant with it for a moment until i catch a glimpse of Moss mouthing along with you now and then, clearly going over the assignments even in the moments before you say the words. you're not taking charge, i realize. they feel like divine pronouncements because you didn't plan this out on your own.

you finish it all off with, "Lily, you're working with me today. we're gonna be gutting their living room. it's been cleaned out already, we just need to get to work."

i blink, sure that you were going to keep me at arms' length. it seems like the safe move, right? like what you should do. but you call me Lily and tell me what we're doing so casually like you paid it no further thought than any other work assignment, and without thinking i'm grabbing my bucket of tools and following you to the living room.

we get to work. it's mindless stuff, just ripping up flooring and taking down drywall. we're fucking gutting the place. mindless but satisfying work. we don't talk much while we go, masks and bandanas and goggles blocking most chance for it. after an hour or so of prying up floorboards you put down your prybar and pull your mask away. by the time i realize you've stopped working you've already grabbed two water bottles from the other room and brought them back. you hand one to me.

"thanks…" i say, somewhat incredulous but incredibly thankful. i take the bottle and twist it open, gratefully draining half of it in a couple of gulps. a satisfied noise escapes my lips, and you can't help but watch the little drop of water that trails down from the middle of my lip to my chin. you close your mouth and swallow thickly when i bring an arm up and wipe the water away.

"yeah, 'course."

i lean back against the windowsill and take a couple more sips of the water before asking "so am i allowed to talk to you or should i be awkwardly silent for the next few weeks?"

you scowl, i think good naturedly, and say "you're just as much of a dick as ever."

"okay so Sarah!" i start with a shit eating grin, your grumpiness all the permission i ever needed.

you actually laugh, a little bit startled that that's where i'm starting but not at all surprised. "Sarah… what about her?"

"was she bluffing or not?"

still laughing, you wonder "bluffing about what?"

"when i left," i say, brow furrowed a bit, "she threatened me with, like, legal action? she said she knew some very good lawyers. was she fucking bluffing??"

you pull your laugh back until it's just a chuckle, enough that you can say "i am so sorry to tell you this Lily, she really does know some very good lawyers. she's used them to help friends of ours all over town. she works at a marketing firm in downtown, they have their own legal team. and she went to school with like three or four lawyers that she's still friends with. it sounds like she's being edgy but i think most of her close friends are lawyers?"

i whistle low, appreciative. the spitfire wasn't just bluster. good.

"damn, okay. i mean, i knew she worked for that firm, but jesus she's really something. what are you two, exactly? her facebook page just had you in a bunch of pictures."

i'd done a little stalking on Sarah Fletcher's facebook page the day before i showed up, blazed out of my gourd on my bed just scrolling through all the pictures and ignoring the way my heart hurt a little bit every time i saw you in the pictures. before i even knew who you were and why it hurt.

you take a sip of water just to avoid talking for a few more seconds. then, deadly serious, "Lily, Mom and Dad can't know about Sarah."

i frown down at my water bottle. "i'm no snitch. besides, since when do i even talk to them? just- i won't say shit, okay?"

you sigh, a little abashed, then explain that "Sarah and i are partners. anything more than that is…" you pause. "probably not something sisters should talk about."

before i can think i blurt out "i don't give a fuck. talk to me." i stop myself from cringing, but barely.

that sounded kind of desperate, you think. you stop yourself from biting your lip, but barely.

stop, another part of you thinks, and it's such a stark contrast thought that it genuinely pulls you up short for a second. then another much more antagonistic thought, just tell her. don't make a big deal out of it.

“i'm her dog, she's my owner,” you blurt out before any part of you can second guess it.

what the fuck!

WHAT THE FUCK!?

i almost choke on my water. my recovery isn't very smooth, but you're too distracted blushing and looking away from me to notice. i don't really know what to say about it, so i don't say anything. i just finish off my water, crumple up the bottle, and get back to work. after another minute, so do you.

>-<

we have a bunch of moments like that, catching up little by little on the years we missed. i learn about your whole household, you learn about the last couple friends i have from school. i learn about your transition, you learn about boarding school.

you even tell me about Cleo, including what happened the night before i showed up. you avoid the dirty details about what you and Lena were doing, focusing on the terror of it. of the rattling doorknob and stomping feet. you're still avoiding talking about it, even though you know i know. the inference was easy enough, after the way Lena treated you, only given more credence every time i watched one of you talk about the other.

i grimace through the story and at the end of it say "jesus, girl. you did better than i would have. i mighta not stopped at pushing her. restraint is good."

"you say that almost like you're not restrained," you note doubtfully.

i hum for a moment. "maybe the last time you saw me… but… it's different now. i'm different, now. i…"

i trail off. you don't say anything, watching with distant fascination as my jaw works in thought, waiting for me to figure out how to say it.

"idunno, nowadays…" i scratch the side of my face and look away from you, uncharacteristically bashful, "i may have actually handled that better…? sometimes it doesn't feel like it. sometimes it feels like all that rage will come back at any moment. and it does. but i understand it better, so i can control it. i still would have rushed out there like an idiot to protect Lena, but… i don't know, i probably would have just shouted, nowadays."

"you really are different."

i look up, startled. "i- yeah. i am."

she is too… a familiar-unfamiliar voice whispers in my ear.

i shake my head, closing my eyes for a second. i'm not crazy. the devil isn't real.

i'm just as real as i always was… it whispers again. i clench my eyes shut a little harder. my chest gets tight. i thought i'd put this away for good. but a lot of things came free that night with Madeline. not everything fit back into the box.

"hey, you okay?" you ask, bringing me out of it a little bit.

"yeah, sorry," i gasp. when did i start holding my breath? i shake my head, "sorry. i'll be fine."

your head hurts and your voice changes pitch just a little bit when you say "let's get lunch."

"okay…" i say uncertainly. i hesitate for a moment, waiting to see if i hear it again.

it's quiet, for now. if the devil is still talking to me… i can't help but shake my head yet again, trying to dislodge those stupid old patterns instilled in me at St Michael's. the only thing i've never told any of my therapists since then is this:

i hear voices. one voice, in particular. the priest who pretended to be a psychologist told me it was the devil. when i was younger, when i was hiding this from Mom and Dad, it was the voice of my anger. every awful sick feeling, the black lake of tar constantly boiling over. at St Michael's, it protected me with careful practiced aggression. by the time i was out of school and on my own, the fire was smoldering but still burning. but now, ten years out from the worst night of my life, all the rage it embodied has burned out, leaving only ash.

leaving me… stop ignoring me… i can protect you.

shut up! you're not real! i demand, willing it to be true.

it goes quiet, at least for now. i don't hear anything more while we eat lunch, and you don't press.

>-<

for the first time in the two weeks that we've been working together, i watch as someone offers a break and you keep working. normally you are just as much of a tightass about breaks as Moss is, constantly insisting on them at frustratingly regular intervals. we almost fought during my first week because i was going to keep working through lunch and you insisted i put down the tools and eat with you.

and now today, Moss calls for lunch, i start to walk toward them, and you keep working. i don't even notice it for a couple minutes, already two bites into my sandwich i stop and look back down the hall where i can hear you still going.

"the hell?" i wonder faintly.

Moss supplies an explanation, "she gets like that now and then. especially around this point, when we start figuring out whether we're really ahead or behind on the job. it's looking like we're behind on this one and… she must be feeling it. she get all distant and quiet today, too?"

i take another bite of my sandwich, then nod.

"it'll come and go. she gets these moods, sometimes. Lace has some theories, but i don't like it when she psychoanalyzes our friends. Penny in particular."

"why's that?"

"why's what? i said a lot of stuff just now."

"why Penny in particular?"

"i… hm. maybe i shouldn't talk about that to her sister."

i scoff, "fucking whatever. i'm gonna go make her take a break."

"she won't like that~" Moss sing-songs behind me.

i take my sandwich with me, a couple more bites between the kitchen and the master bedroom you're currently at work in. i don't pay any attention to what you're doing past whether it's dangerous for me to interrupt. once i figure it's safe, no buzzing whirring power tools or swinging hammer, i call out, "hey Pen-Pen!"

you flinch. she shouldn't call us that.

my brow furrows at the reaction. "hey, you good?"

"don't call me that, please," you say, and your voice is strangely smaller, pitched slightly higher. you've shrunk into yourself just a bit, shoulders hunching up a little and face turned away from me, not blatantly, just… not aimed at me, aimed instead at the wall behind me to my right. i remember this.

"wh- okay. sorry, Penny."

"no! sorry. i- can you leave me alone? we need to get this room finished by the end of the week so that we can move on to the stairs so that we can take time off at the end of the month and that won't happen if i take my lunch break today, so i'm just going to keep working," you demand, uncommonly direct. you still don't match my gaze, faced firmly Not At Me, but i remember this. i remember when you used to be like this, at alternating times. usually when Mom was around. i thought it was some kind of mirroring. i'm not so sure now.

don't let her go. push.

so i push, because that's all i really know how to do, even if i hate listening to that voice, "no, come have lunch with me. we can work late today, Lee would kill me if she found out i let you skip lunch."

"i-"

"come on, Penny, i'll-"

"stop calling me that!"

"what?"

"sorry!" you flinch. "sorry, i just- sorry, i need to-" and you start to step past me but i hate the way you look scared of me and maybe it's a terrible idea but as you go i reach out and grab you, pulling you into the room. you're strong, but i'm what feels like twice your size and even though you protest with a shrieking laugh "Lily!!" i cackle too and pull you further into the room, doing my best to set you down gently despite your swinging legs.

"objective has changed: leave no survivors," i grin, grabbing at your sides. you shriek and try to pull away but i'm strong and big and maybe, even if i don't know it, you kind of want to be here, laughing in my arms.

you gasp and laugh hard, and you start to buckle in an attempt to get away but something overtakes me, some sort of impulse i can't explain away, so i switch from just tickling you to grabbing you around the middle and scooping you up almost like a cat, and you giggle a little harder and pull your knees up so you're dangling in the air and i breathe deeply, smelling faint traces of cucumber shampoo and itchy sawdust. for a moment i'm lost in the feeling of you pressed up against me as you are, we haven't hugged or been this close in so long, only the brief tear-filled contact upon our reunion, and we were never really very tactile before that, not the way either of us were with Lena, but now, with you in my arms, surprisingly small pressed up against my chest, i wonder why we weren't, and my head dips and i can't stop myself from practically nuzzling into your hair, but then you squirm again and i come back to myself. i can't help but start to let you go.

thankfully you notice and put your feet down, and i pull away. i don't fail to notice the way you trail after me for a split second before you seem to also come back to yourself. you clear your throat; then, voice changing once more, you say "sorry, yeah. let's. let's get lunch."

i tell myself i don't notice the way you adjust yourself when you think i'm not looking.

>-<

"we're gonna go to the zoo in a couple weekends. not this weekend, but the next. Lena's been begging to go and we got ahead of things on the job and i think we could all use a weekend off. you wanna come?" you ask me, near to the end of September.

yes. "no." fuck you! you want this!

i tried to put it away, back in the box, tried to silence the voice that tasted like ash every time it tried to speak for me. but it's only gotten louder. more insistent. she- fuck, it, it used to be so aggressive, the comparison to the devil was so clear, but now it's more insidious. a different kind of devil on my shoulder. now it's encouraging all those disgustingly indulgent impulses.

stop trying to shove me back in that fucking box, Liliana. i hate it in there.

i try to ignore your disappointed sigh and cringe internally, i can't do it. i can't spend a whole day with them.

you can. you want to. you're gonna say yes. i'll make you.

you can't, i think, my heart dropping into my stomach and the world beginning to tilt. the devil grins and my eyes start to buzz and my head hurts, and when i open my mouth i can taste the ash on my tongue, "sorry. yes. i'll go. text me the details."

and for a terrifying moment i'm not myself, until the devil lets go of me and i crash back into myself and the world rights itself just as you chirp "oh! awesome! Lena's gonna be pumped."

i breathe heavily. you don't notice. what the fuck was that? what just happened?? it felt like being possessed, like it wasn't me speaking, but it was still coming from my mouth, i opened my mouth and i spoke the words but i didn't say that! i wouldn't have said that, you and Lena are in too much danger around me-

do you know how stupid you sound?

i sit down heavily on the bench in the closet we were working on until a few minutes ago. you'd brought up the zoo trip on our lunch break the same way you brought me my lunch, so i have nothing to do but sit and reel.

what? i wonder numbly, trying not to think about the way it feels like casting thoughts into the void.

you sound like a fucking idiot, the devil sneers.

it's- it's not safe, i defend, somewhat weakly, not quite believing it myself. i feel small with the devil looming over me.

they're safer with us than with anyone else. we're the only person who can actually keep them safe, Liliana. you think i'd let you let Dad touch them like he did Mom?

i close my eyes against the memories. against what you never saw. what Lena never saw.

it's just me and the bedroom door and the way she screamed. it's just me and the bedroom door. it's just me. my breathing speeds up, but my hand finds the fidget in my pocket on instinct and pulls it out.

back and forth, my thumb rubs over it, focusing on the click and glide, back and forth, back and forth. me and the bedroom door. he can't hurt me. back and forth. he can't hurt me. me and the bedroom door. back and forth. me and the bedroom door. back and forth. he can't hurt me. back and forth. he won't hurt you. it's just me.

i close the bedroom door.

i open my eyes.

you look back at me with a worried furrow in your brow, and i flush bright red, not ashamed just… nobody's ever caught on to that before.

"Lily? you okay?"

"yeah," i say, honestly. "shit can't hurt me anymore. been through enough therapy to make sure of that."

"oh." you look away for a second.

my blush starts to settle. for lack of anything better to do, i take a sip of my water. talk to her about it. i bet she could use it, the devil whispers. i don't know why i listen. maybe i know she's right. maybe she's feeling less like the devil and more like…

"a few years ago i remembered some shit from home that i'd, like, locked away," i say plainly. it's just you and me in this room, we'd taken our lunch separately from the rest of the crew again. i continue, "i was already in therapy for some other shit, so i just… unloaded, one day."

i trail off for a moment, watching you watch me with careful eyes. it sounds unreal, what i'm saying, and you have a strange sense like it's a cosmic joke, like i'm about to say 'sike!'

but i don't. "went through some pretty fucking intense therapy about it. it's a good thing i had a friend who could keep an eye on me at the time, i kinda fell apart for a while. but i kept going to therapy, twice a week, for a full fucking year. and now… when i remember all that awful shit, it can't hurt me."

"how?" you ask, voice a little small. "how- do you r- it- it doesn't hurt forever?"

i look up at you in shock, finally taking you in. there's a glistening in your eyes and a flush on your cheeks and you're holding yourself around the middle in a way that i know means you're terrified. sitting up a bit straighter, paying more attention to you now, i tell you "no, it doesn't hurt forever. it doesn't have to."

"Lily," you gasp, moving from the doorway into the closet with me, "i- fuck, i- sorry, can i- tell you something?"

i greet you with open arms, pulling you to sit on the bench in the closet next to me. i wish there was a door i could close, but i'll have to trust that nobody will interrupt us.

"talk to me," i tell you.

and you do. i learn, through tears and hyperventilation, what happened to you. the details you hadn't admitted to anyone else. details neither of us could ever commit to page. i listen intently, pulling you until you're held safe in my arms enough that you can cry and i don't even think about the kind of position we're in, just filled with this desperate need to make sure you're safe.

"nobody will ever hurt you again," the Ash whispers.