Chapter Nine: Cleansing
~Chapter Nine~
Saturday afternoon at approximately 1:20 pm, Victoria came home. When she heard silence in her home, she became simultaneously relieved and worried. The relief stemmed from the fact that if her daughter had hurt herself, Marcus would not be this quiet. The worry was the ingrained habit of a woman who had raised children: when kids become silent, wonder what they are getting into. So Victoria hung her coat, put her bag down, and crept silently through the house looking for her children.
Modest's room was devoid of life, but the mother breathed a sigh of relief when she discovered the two in Marcus's room. Modest was curled tightly in a ball under the blankets and Marcus embraced her protectively from behind. She smiled and closed the door; it was Saturday, let them sleep. She went to her bathroom to redress the wound in her shoulder.
Modest woke first. Something was strange, and she laid there quietly for a long time trying to understand what it was. After ten minutes of quiet contemplation, it struck her like a brick to the skull: the knife was gone. There remained a hollow ache in her chest where the cold razor edge once sat, but the blade itself had vanished into the ether. Marcus's arms, resting lightly around her waist, was a pleasant weight that added to the novelty of the absence of pain, and that delayed the second revelation a further five minutes. It was with another moment of startled wonder that she realized she could hear the raven that lived in the tree outside the house. The veil of numbness that had plagued her, preventing her from noticing anything not directly related to survival, was lifted.
When Marcus woke, he sensed something was different, but couldn't put his finger on it. He thought about it for a moment before deciding that Modest was relaxed. This was odd because he knew she was awake, and she hadn't relaxed while conscious in too long. He tightened his embrace, then rolled away to get dressed. She was looking at him when he turned back around toward her.
"Good morning," she said. She didn't smile, but the frown disappeared; it was close enough to bring a tentative smile to Marcus's face.
"Afternoon, actually," he said. "It's after two. I'm going to go make some food; you go get your shower. You forgot last night." She began to sit up, still relaxed, and Marcus went downstairs, looking first for his mother. She was dozing in her chair, tank top doing nothing to conceal the bandage that was prominent on her shoulder. He ignored the bandage, went to her, and touched her on the arm; it roused her at once.
"Modest almost smiled," he said to her, "and she's relaxed. I'm getting food, are you hungry?" Victoria smiled at her son and shook her head.
"No, you go ahead," she replied. "I had a long night, so I'm going to take a nap." With a nod, Marcus turned and went to the kitchen.
Modest laid in bed for a few minutes, reveling in the triple sensations of painlessness, perceptive awareness, and her brother's scent clinging to the bed and blankets. After too short a time though she decided she really did need a shower, so she got up and did so.
The hot water caressed every part of her, washing away the grime and sweat of the nightmare the night before. Her fur matted and clung to her skin, weighed down by water soaked up, and the steam swirling around her obscured the walls of the shower in a pleasant pattern of movement fueled by heat and her own actions. Even the act of soaping up and cleaning herself was somehow pleasant, as if she were washing away the depression that had held her captive. She knew that the depression would continue to cling to her for some time, but it was draining away like the dirty water streaming off of her body.
After Modest toweled off and dressed in her favorite lavender knee-length skirt and white tee, she went downstairs, saw her sleeping mother in the living room, and followed the scent of searing meat to the kitchen. Marcus was just finishing up a meal of sausage, bacon, eggs, and waffles. He smiled at her and handed her a plate, which she immediately began to consume like a starving person. Marcus sat and ate his own plate more slowly, not speaking but watching Modest with an attentive, gentle gaze.
He was happy she seemed to be better, but he was also somewhat confused. He had held Naomi before, but what he felt this morning with his sister in his arms was different, more right somehow. It was more comfortable. While he ate and watched his twin eat more in these few minutes than she had at one time in three days, he contemplated his feelings. He loved his sister more than anything, and had never questioned that; what he never thought to question, or even consciously considered in any way, was that his feelings could be anything but familial. This would complicate his relationship with Naomi, but he wouldn't worry about that now; for now, his sister was recovering and that was all that was important.
As they ate, an unconscious cue led them to reach across the table and hold hands. The meal was spent in silent contentment.
~~To Be Continued~~