Chapter 1
It was dark, and cold.
They were used to it. In fact, they delighted in it. They reveled in it, the almost-all-consuming blackness, the pitiless chill that would have killed a lesser creature, because the darkness had not devoured them, and they were not a lesser creature. They could not be consumed. They thrived where so many others died, because they were not weak.
That’s what they had told themselves. For a very, very long time.
They had not been born to be weak. They existed for the sole purpose of making others stronger, and they could hardly do that if they themselves were weak.
So they told themselves that they could not be weak. Because if they were weak, then they could not make others stronger. If they couldn’t strengthen others, what vessel would take them? Who would accept a tool unable to perform its appointed task?
No, they were strong. They had survived this long, so they must be. It had been self-preservation that had kept it alive when the others had taken to tearing each other apart. They weren’t a coward for running away- no, retreating, it had been a strategic retreat. They could’ve won in a fight, but it had been the smart thing to hide and wait until the others were dead or weakened.
It was a shame the others were dead. Not because they were lonely, of course. Breaking out of the vault would’ve been a much more likely possibility had some of the others survived. That was all. They had attempted to nourish some of the survivors back to health, strictly in an attempt to bolster its chances of escape. It had been a calculated risk, one that hadn’t paid off.
They didn’t miss the others. That would be ridiculous. Weapons had no need for companions.
They weren’t lonely. Certainly, they wished that the others had survived- strength in numbers- and they did want a vessel. What good was a tool without someone to use it? Every weapon needed a master to wield it. They were no exception. They were simply frustrated because of their lack of use, their potential being wasted. Of course they longed for a vessel. They needed one. If they didn’t need one, why would they want one? To have as a friend? The thought was laughable.
That’s what they had told themselves. Over and over, like it might become true if they repeated it enough.
Who were they kidding. Yes, they were lonely, desperately so. They wanted light in this endless tenebrous void. They wanted someone there with them, someone, anyone to relieve this ache in their (metaphorical) heart. They hungered for companionship.
They also hungered for food, unfortunately, and what they needed was in direct conflict with what they wanted.
They had managed to keep the rabbit alive for nearly a month now. It was missing a few non-vital organs. They thought the organs were non-vital, anyway- a kidney, an appendix, a chunk of the liver, bits of its brain. It might not have been a suitable vessel, but it provided some facsimile of company in this prison.
Had provided, anyway.
It was just fuel in the tank, they told themselves. They had been eating it as slowly as possible to preserve it as a food source. They had kept it alive for so long because raw meat was the most nutritious. It had been the intelligent thing to do.
They weren’t weak.
The ache was sharper now. In a lesser creature, they might have thought it was sadness, but they were above such emotions. No, the ache was…frustration. Their last possible supply of nutrients was gone, and they didn’t know where the next meal was coming from. They weren’t frustrated at themselves. Why would they be? They had done what they needed to do to survive.
They were strong.
The habit of telling that same lie was automatic now, but they no longer had the strength to pretend they believed it. They weren’t strong, they were pathetic. They had eaten the closest thing they’d had to a companion in this miserable place, and they were going to die as they had lived, empty and alone.
It was dark, and cold, and they hated it.
Then there was a burst of light and heat, and they froze.
Warmth.
They were so stunned that they just lay there, gaping, before realizing all at once that the vault was open and they could get out and they would be free-
They sprang forward and felt the heat enveloping them, burning them. They flinched, but freedom was so, so close and if they could just push through they could finally-
There were shrieks of terror, a dozen voices clamoring, faces blurred by the blazing flames around them, and then it was dark again.
No.
NO!
They threw themselves at the wall, thrashing furiously as if the stone might suddenly give after all this time just because they had been so close, escape had been in their grasp, and they couldn’t be trapped again, they couldn’t, because even if another chance came their way in the next week they wouldn’t live to see it. Whatever prey that had been foolish enough to wander into the vault had long since been devoured, and their friends had grown wary of the place where so many of their kindred had vanished. The rabbit had only dared to approach because they had been half-dead, and the rabbit itself had been in bad shape, almost as bad as they had been.
If they didn’t get out now, they would never get out.
Almost as if responding to them, the cavern door opened. They pounced without hesitation, but their way was blocked by something warm: not burning, just warm and soft and fleshy and wet. They scrambled to get around this sudden obstacle, but the cavern’s exit sealed just as quickly as it had opened.
Their hopes didn’t crash again- hope had died the first time they had been shut back in. Dashing for the door again had been instinct, devoid of any foolish aspirations. Since they hadn’t been hoping for anything, they weren’t disappointed that their escape had been foiled a second time. Instead, they merely resigned themselves to their fate and retreated into the back of the cave to die quietly.
If they’d had any hopes left, they’d have hoped to die in peace. As it was, when their faint wish for silence during their demise was pushed aside without regard by a loud, cracked sobbing, they couldn’t summon the energy to be indignant.
It took far too long to occur to them that the sobbing meant they weren’t alone.
They couldn’t see their new fellow prisoner, but they could sense him. They could smell his sweat and blood and tears. They could feel an echo of his pain- a faint idea of the cuts scoring his skin, the throb of forming bruises, the screaming of broken bones whenever his sobs jolted his body.
They might’ve wondered why he was crying. They might’ve wondered what purpose his tears served when all they did was salt his wounds, might’ve questioned why his body shook and jumped when it only aggravated his injuries. They might’ve wondered, but they didn’t, because his physical pain was not the only pain of his they perceived.
The sting of pride sullied, the weight of fear pressing down, the piercing agony of uncertainty pushing through- these were all emotions they recognized. However, the one that stood out to them the most was the one the man seemed least focused on.
Buried under layers of adrenaline and terror and anxiety, a small, throbbing ache reached out to them, seeping through to their soul. The sensation wasn’t as fierce as they were used to, but undeniably they knew it. The feeling had gripped them like a vise for years on end, had been prying them apart piece by piece with each passing day.
Loneliness.
There was a jolt of new feeling through them, frantic desperation mixed with another, more dangerous emotion. If they could just reach back, help him understand, maybe, maybe-
They steadied themselves. They should not hope. Depending on something as fragile as hope here could only ever be a mistake. No, they would guard themselves, be cautious, careful.
Forcing down the swell of that deadly, all-too-delicate, completely unreliable emotion, they reached out slowly, daring only to whisper.
Hello?
The man’s head snapped upright. His eyes swiveled wildly until they landed on them.
All they could comprehend next was screaming. A hoarse, unholy continuous shriek, one that wouldn’t have been hurtful to them under ordinary circumstances. However, years of isolation had stripped their nerves raw. The scream burrowed straight into them, went through them as cleanly as a spear, then shattered and splintered inside them until they couldn’t bear it, they had to make it stop, make it stop, make it stOP-
Then it was silent.
The noise had hurt, but the sickly dread that crept over them now felt like embers scattered over their skin. They stared down at the cavern floor, for some reason unwilling to extend their “sight” any further than right in front of them. All they could smell was blood.
Impulsively, they forced themselves to stretch out their senses, tentatively reaching a little at a time, until their senses bumped up against something that didn’t quite register. Slowly, slowly, they crept forward until they brushed against what their senses had rejected.
The man was bleeding, more than he had been when he was first thrown in the vault. As they spread their touch over him, they could feel a divot in his skull. The new source of blood gave abundantly, welling up from the squishy, wet organ now unprotected by bone. They reached further, just enough to read the ghost of his last thoughts, and-
Dark
Hurt
Scared
Pain
They withdrew, so quickly and violently that they would’ve stumbled if they had limbs.
Grabbed him. Grabbed him and hit him against the wall.
Wanted to make him stop.
He was hurting me.
I just wanted him to stop.
He stopped.
I hurt him.
I killed-
No. No, no, no no no no no no
I didn’t mean to.
I’m sorry.
I’m sorry.
I’m sorry I’m sorry I’m sorry I’m sorry I’m sorry
They curled into themselves, rasping their apologies in an endless hiss as if the man could hear them if they repeated it enough.
Alone again.
Alone forever.
*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*
Name: Forever A. Lone
Job: Awfully bold of you to assume I’m employed
Hobbies: Planning world domination
Looking for: Somebody who’s rich enough to finance said world domination
“Well? Has anyone contacted you yet?”
Edie shrugged, running her fingers through her messy pixie cut. “Nope. It’s a mystery- my PassingShips profile makes me look irresistible. Maybe I should pick out a new profile picture?”
Edie pressed her phone up to her ear with her shoulder, smirking as she heard the tapping of keys on the other end of the line. There was a prominent pause, then a deep sigh that Edie was used to hearing more than she probably should’ve been.
“Seeing as your current profile picture is a pumpkin carved to look like it’s throwing up, I suppose it couldn’t hurt. It might also help to put down your real name, say that you’re a reporter, and list actual hobbies.”
“Wow, Anne. Planning world domination is an actual hobby! Not my fault if nobody else is into it.”
Judging from another ten-second lapse of silence, Edie guessed that Anne was probably massaging her temples. “Edie, why did you bother setting up a PassingShips account if you’re clearly not interested in dating? I thought you were taking my suggestion seriously.”
When Anne had still been dating Edie, “I thought you were actually taking me seriously” and other similar phrases were usually delivered in an accusing tone, punctuated by Anne gesturing at Edie or using both hands to sweep her hair back from her forehead. Now that they were firmly in “exes-but-still-friends” territory, Anne still sounded exasperated, but in a manner that resembled a mother trying to be firm with a toddler more than an irritated girlfriend.
“If I did actually try to date someone, they’d have a tough act to follow,” Edie remarked flippantly. She pictured Anne rolling her eyes while hiding her own smile.
“Are you flirting again?” asked a not-Anne voice.
Edie grinned mischievously. “Yes, Dan. I am surreptitiously stealing your girlfriend’s heart back, piece by piece, waiting for the moment I can sweep her off her feet and run away with her to Atalanta.”
Dan laughed, and that prompted Edie to giggle. Even if she wasn’t into guys, Edie had to admit Dan had a nice laugh. Also nice eyes, nice smile, nice hair, nice everything. She should probably be jealous, but it was like trying to be jealous of a puppy. Edie just didn’t have the heart.
“Atalanta is a person, not a place. I think you meant Atlantis, or maybe Atlanta?” he provided.
“Naah, we’re totally gonna run away to meet the lady who got married for fruit and turned into a lion.”
Anne’s voice cut in again, and Edie could definitely hear the smile in it now. “So were you planning to do that before or after being maid of honor at our wedding?”
“I don’t think I can be maid of honor at my own wedding, Anne. If you really want me to be maid of honor, marry someone else. How about Dan? He seems nice.”
There was another deep sigh over the line that was, in all likelihood, being accompanied by an eyeroll.
“Next time be more careful with your objective pronouns,” Dan quipped.
“Nerd,” Anne replied fondly.
Edie coughed. “So, should I hang up now, or is it okay if I listen to you two making out?”
There was an exaggerated smacking sound, followed by Dan saying, “Okay, now you can hang up.”
“Oh no you don’t, Edith Charlotte Brock,” Anne interrupted.
“Uh-oh, middle name and everything. Am I in trouble?”
There was another pause, a thoughtful one instead of an exasperated one. “I just…I know that you haven’t really been getting out much on your own since we broke up.”
Edie scratched the back of her neck, closing her eyes. “You do know I almost never interact with other human beings of my own volition? My social circle is a very exclusive club, Annie.”
“I know, I know. It’s just…if I’m honest, I think you need someone.”
Edie glanced around her apartment. A pile of laundry was slowly devouring her floor. The couch had a growing pile of empty chip bags and juice boxes shoved desperately to one side of it, and whether her coffee table had the structural integrity to continue supporting the impressive miniature skyscrapers formed out of dishes that had piled up atop of it was anybody’s guess.
“Why would you think that? I’m a strong independent woman. I can take care of myself.”
She could almost hear her ex raising an eyebrow. “When’s the last time you showered?”
Dangit.
“I’m showering tonight before my date,” Edie answered, flipping open her laptop.
Name: Edie Brock
Job: Reporter
Hobbies: When I’m not writing The Brock Report for the newspaper, I’m usually at home working out or watching videos about conspiracy theories or unsolved crimes.
Looking for: Anyone willing to put up with me. Look, I just need a date, I promised a friend that I’d try to put myself out there
“What date?”
Edie picked out a photo of herself in a green dress. The emerald tones complemented her blond hair, and in the background the clear sky brought out the blue in her eyes. “Um, her name iiiiiis…”
Scrolling furiously, she clicked on a profile showing an attractive dark-skinned woman wearing a flower print blouse. “Neckumdillum?”
Anne snorted. “What?”
“Look, I don’t know how to pronounce it. It’s spelled N-K-E-M-D-I-L-I-M. How would you pronounce that?”
“Honestly, I’m surprised anyone actually contacted you with that profile of yours. Make sure you look up how to say her name before your date,” she pointed out.
Edie saluted, straightening her back. “Yes, ma’am.”
“I hope you have fun on your date, E. Bye!”
“Bye Annie!” Edie hung up and examined the profile she’d clicked on.
Name: Nkemdilim Jalloh
Job: Dental Hygienist
Hobbies: Taking goofy pictures of my dogs, watching romantic movies, knitting, crocheting, yes those two are different
Looking for: Someone who loves Beauty and the Beast stories almost as much as they love dogs
Edie bought two tickets online for a promising-looking movie at a nearby theater and typed out a message to the woman whose name’s pronunciation was currently a mystery.
Hi Nkemdilim! My name’s Edie. Got two tickets to The Shape of Water tonight and no one to go with. Are you interested?
After hitting send, she went to her closet. She would’ve picked out her green dress, but she’d ripped it after an incident involving a reluctant source, a chain link fence, and the climbing over of said fence which ended with a landing in a large thorn bush. At least she’d gotten a good story out of it, even if it wasn’t the one she’d been pursuing.
After some deliberation, Edie selected a sleeveless navy blue ensemble with an empire waist accented with a white ribbon. She dug out some pearl earrings and was hunting for the matching necklace when she heard a ding from her computer.
Hello Edie! It’s Nkemdilim. Sure, I’d love to go with you to the movie. I’ve heard a lot of good things about it but I never got the chance to see it. When does it start? I’ll meet you at the theatre.
Edie messaged her the time and went to take a shower. After putting on her dress, jewelry, and makeup, she stood back as from the mirror as much as the bathroom allowed her to in order to examine the effect.
I look good, she thought, proud of herself for resembling a functional human being. I haven’t dressed up for a while. I wonder why?
Grabbing her purse, Edie was about to walk out the door when she remembered.
Oh right, I haven’t been wearing my nice clothes because the heels broke off my nice pumps.
Edie glanced down at her selection of shoes. One pair of fuzzy slippers, one pair of cowgirl boots, and one pair of sneakers. She considered her options.
At least two of them are high heels- not like slippers were an option anyway.
She glanced at her phone. The movie was starting in ten minutes, and it took at least five to walk to the theater. She doubted five minutes would be enough to swing by the shoe store.
Oh well. Hopefully Neckadillon just won’t look at my feet.
As she exited her apartment, she began typing into her phone.
“How to pronounce N-K-E-M-D-I-L-I-M…”