Sandstorms, Part 4
They end up staying at the store a little while longer.
Victoria ends up getting her a few more dresses. She also ends up getting her some makeup. And jewelry. And some decent hair product.
She appreciates the gesture. At least, she tells herself she does, even as her gut stirs uncomfortably at the thought of actually using any of it.
It’s only when she gets back to her dorm and closes the door that the day hits her.
The blanket of heavy, comfortable silence is suddenly a constricting weight on her chest. She tries to breath, but vines crawl along her skin and restrain her. The comfortable walls feel like they’re closing in, and her reflection in the bathroom mirror is staring back at her with something that can only be described as terror.
Her limbs ache.
It strikes her that she hasn’t slept in two days.
She’s become addicted to her insomnia.
It strikes her that she hasn’t eaten in…
How long has it been?
Her thoughts swim. She clutches at her head, trying to fight off the sudden wave of panic - trying to just breath, trying to make the world sit still for a moment.
Oh God.
She sees her reflection. A stranger. Someone with a confident, straight spine and a lifted head.
She sees the stranger behind her eyelids, and sees a child reflected in those stranger’s eyes. She sees wide, happy smiles and spindly legs.
She moans. It sounds like the cry of a dying animal when it leaves her.
How long? How long has it been since she ate?
A wide grin tugging at her lips. The sun is bright - the neon rays attack her eyes, and she welcomes them with open arms.
How… how long has it been since she drank anything?
The ground. The taste of copper.
She had always liked that taste.
Her lip burns. She bit her tongue, she thinks.
She cradles her skull and wonders why anyone would do this.
The days swim. She remembers seeing Chloe’s text - the punk had liked her photography, had called it cool, it had been the highlight of her day-
The memory is fuzzy, now.
Her legs ache. She knows it’s because sleep is coming, whether she wants it or not.
But there is no rest for the wicked. And there is no rest for the plagued.
Her smiles fade.
She comes home with bruises.
Her parents tell her not to engage. To ignore them. They’re looking for trouble, begging for a response - Max shouldn’t give it to them.
She follows the advice.
She comes home with bruises anyway.
She grasps at the elusive shadows of days past, trying to breath. She tastes bile.
It’s been… days, at least. She hasn’t eaten in days.
That’s when the panic finally overtakes her.
Breaths become gasps. Gasps become choked sobs. Tears stream down her face.
The breaths stop coming.
Her lungs burn.
There’s a pressure filling her head.
She crumbles.
She’s on her knees. The world comes in flashes. The tiles are cold beneath her fingers.
She tastes bile. It burns in her throat.
Blaring waves of panic, thick and stabbing and unexpected, drown the world. It re-surfaces sometimes, in little glimpses - snapshots of reality.
She hunches in on herself in class. Her eyes dart.
She begins to speak softer.
Every time she tries to gather herself, another wave comes in. For every breath, there is suffocation. Every time she manages to grab onto something - anything - there’s another memory to supercede it.
She grasps at the shopping trip. At Victoria’s easy smile.
Tries to breath.
Her own face, a stranger. Victoria’s sharp grin, approving and prideful.
“Confident.”
She can’t be, though.
She can’t be seen.
She grasps at vague, bubbling memories. The taste of hot, unsweetened tea. Kate’s laughter when she hacks it up, and the unwilling smile that tugs at her lips when she hears it.
Voices. Jeering. Laughter, sharp and cutting.
She can’t let anyone see the tears.
She can’t let them get to her.
But they do.
She can’t let anyone see.
...So she’ll just have to not be seen.
She grasps.
And finds Chloe.
A breath comes in, sharp and cold and intoxicating. She had forgotten how good it felt to breath.
She clutches at her chest.
It’s wet.
Blood is streaming from her nose.
Sleep comes.
Victoria finds her.
She’s told that Victoria found her, anyway, when she wakes up in the nurse’s office. Apparently she had passed out on the bathroom floor, face smeared with dried blood.
When they ask her if she’s been getting enough sleep, she says she has. When they ask if she’s been eating, she says she has. When they ask if she’s hydrated, she says yes.
Victoria does nothing to hide her suspicion.
She’s let off with a warning to stay hydrated.
When she and Victoria leave, she’s expecting scolding. She hunches in on herself, a little, waiting for the inevitable.
A long moment passes.
“...I’m really glad you’re okay.”
She blinks.
Twice.
Thrice.
She glances at Victoria, then, who’s already looking like she wishes she hadn’t said that.
“I mean - you were passed out on the bathroom floor covered in blood, for God’s sake. You need to take better care of yourself, Maxine.”
The response comes without thought. Her voice is still quiet - which comes as something as a relief, considering she hadn’t really meant to say anything.
“Well, that’s what I have you for, right?”
Victoria turns to her, raising her eyebrows imperiously. Max shrinks, fiddling with her sleeves.
“...I guess so.”
The blonde’s voice is odd when she says that. Max sends her a tiny glance.
She’s looked away again.
“I just…”
Victoria trails off and makes a few frustrated gestures.
“I… just… don’t want you… like, doing anything stupid, y’know?”
Victoria barrels on before she can respond.
“Like, I don’t want you pulling another stupid move like this and… ending up in a bad place. I mean - you’re a member of the Vortex Club, after all. We can’t have you ruining our image.”
Victoria’s voice smooths when she says that. She starts sounding normal again. Still, Max can’t keep herself from staring at the girl for a long moment.
Victoria had never expressed something as nuanced as concern before.
“...It’s… thanks. For looking after me.”
Victoria blinks and sends her a startled glance.
“It’s… no problem, I guess.”
There’s an awkward pause.
“...So - you need to eat, right?” Victoria says suddenly - though her tone still comes out a little bit odd. “We should go get some take-out. Make sure you don’t starve yourself again.”
Max hums in the back of her throat.
They get take-out. Victoria’s voice loses it’s odd timbre. Max feels far more at home with Victoria being her usual imperious, demanding, impatient self.
They sit across from each other, in booths. For the smallest moment, Max wants to sit next to Victoria - but she smothers the thought fast. Because she can see only too clearly the temptation to snuggle into the girl - the girl she had never realized was adorable when she was concerned - becoming too strong to resist. And she can very clearly imagine the likely reaction to that.
She avoids looking into the girl’s eyes for too long.