It’s Not Hopeless

The air in the bedroom was suffocating.

It was taking everything Red had to keep herself together, to stop her shaking legs from fleeing the room to find some dark corner to curl up in and cry. And she really needed to vomit. To expel the bile that has built in her throat. To clear her lungs of the pervading smell of fresh sex and blood that ate at her with every shuddering breath — for John’s mother had not simply been ****. No. That would have been far too merciful on her father’s part, to leave the sweet mother untouched. But Red couldn’t bear to tell John that now. How could she? How could she possibly explain to John that his mother had just been **** by Red’s own father and then thrown to the pack to be passed around like a whore, all in her very bedroom.

Red couldn’t bear it. The guilt was killing her. It was her fault, after all. She had made the choice to run away, to follow John, a boy whom she’d met that very day, a boy who had barely known right from left in the Abyss. It was a selfish and cruel choice Red had made, and she had to atone for it. She had to go back to her father and face his wrath alone.

“Absolutely not. No fucking way,” her boyfriend hissed as she suggested it, taking her hand possessively in his own. “I can’t let you go back to that creep, even if it’s for my mom.”

A burst of affection blossomed in her chest but was quickly swallowed by guilt. “This is all my fault anyway,” she mumbled in response, her eyes downcast and blurring with tears. “You told me to wait for you, but I didn’t, I just ran away… and now you’re suffering the consequences of my selfish actions. I have to go back, it’s the only way to end this and get your mom back.”

“Don’t be so motherfucking naive,” Saccharine spat, flying up to Red to give her the strongest slap she could manage, which didn’t hurt much at all, save for a momentary sting. “As fucking-if Vulpis will be done once he gets you back. He’s sure as shit gonna hunt John into an early grave, and fuck knows whatever he’ll do to you won’t be PG!”

Perhaps she was right, but it did nothing to ease Red’s pain or free her from the guilty conscience that chained her. It was still her fault all of this was happening. The **** of those brave Knights… the abduction of John’s mother, it was all on her.

“The fae is right,” Lord Brighton continued. “This is not a situation that can be solved by bending to your father’s will. He is a wild beast that seeks only to spill blood. We must slay him.”

“But Father,” Moira interjected, her green eyes casting a sideways glance towards John. “Our first priority must be to save John’s mother. Who are we to call ourselves the shield of the innocent, failing that?”

“Of course,” her father agreed immediately, giving his daughter a brief but proud smile before his face regained its stern composure once more. “By the Lady, there has been enough tragedy already; let us end this ordeal with celerity so that more may not occur.”

On that, everybody could agree, the sentiment reflected in several determined nods around the room.

“Then let us reconvene at the manor,” Lord Brighton continued, “so that we may discuss our strategy moving forward. Leave the coroners to tend to the deceased.”

The group muttered their agreement before dispersing. Red was the first out the door, **** for fresh air to clean her lungs of blood and ****. She sat on the front lawn, looking up at the darkened sky as the cold early morning air crashed over her like a purifying wave. The sun would not rise for quite some time, and dark clouds drew the curtain on any light the moon might’ve shed.

“Red…” her boyfriend said softly and wrapped his arms tightly around her waist.

The vile act her father had committed weighed on her chest, but she was torn. She wanted to protect him from the painful truth, yet it felt just as painful to keep it from him. “I’m sorry,” was all she could manage before a lump caught in her throat.

“This isn’t your fault,” he said gently. “The only one to blame here is Vulpis, and don’t you dare let yourself think otherwise.”

“How can you possibly hold yourself together right now?” she asked, before John surprised her by laughing.

“Together?” he snorted. “I’m a fucking mess right now. You know I can still taste the vomit in my mouth?”

“Don’t you dare go kissing me then,” Red replied quickly, seconds before her boyfriend attempted that very thing. God, it was absurd to be making jokes and playing around now, yet it comforted her to no end.

“Aww,” John replied with mock disappointment as she successfully fended him off, before they both lapsed into silence, staring up at the empty sky.

The clink of mail and the slight buzz of faery wings sounded behind them as Moira and Saccha joined them on the lawn. The Paladin sat close enough to cuddle into them both, and the fae claimed a place on Red’s shoulder.

“I have not met your father,” Moira began after a long moment. “But I already know that this companionship is something he will never have. We will get through this, for the Lady watches over us.”

“Yeah, I mean, look at us god damn wankers, sitting here in the dark, moping,” the fae snorted. “I’m not a religious nutcase like the ranga, but she’s damn right we’re bloody getting through this shite,” she reaffirmed, her tiny hands clenched into determined fists. “I didn’t think much of humans before I met you, John, but your goofy powers are exactly the kind of wildcard we need right now… and I’m totally looking forward to the orgy we’re having once this is all over,” the fairy added, causing the group to burst into a round of laughter.

It took them a few precious moments to recover, but when they did everyone seemed to be in lighter spirits. “We’ll get her back,” John said perhaps unnecessarily. But he said it for all of them as much as himself.

Despite the strain of current circumstances, Red allowed herself a small flame of hope. They were right: martyring herself to save Brenda wouldn’t solve the problem. But as long as they were together, and played their cards right, then perhaps…