calanthia sarasin } district two

well i ain't nobody's problem
but my own
said i ain't nobody's problem
but my own

( trigger warning )

Ocelots stared at her -- one, two, three, four of them.

They were the Sarasin family's name sake, exotic animals and felines, felines galore. Albino tigers, snow leopards, ocelots. ("They're like, fucking house cats.) And she didn't love them either, didn't treasure them like jewelry or anything more than care for them. One, two, three, four, three boys and one girl -- the liquor bottle in her hand swaying and all four of their emerald eyes watching. 

"Y'all want this shit, huh."

Calanthia took swigs on occasion, the four of them watching in a row from the bedside counter, from the mattress, from the floor and from on top of a pile of clothes on the floor. Matted sunlight taken in from the window beside her, lighting her face with the morning strokes while the rest of the room stayed just as dark as she kept it. Four heads, four sets of eyes swaying with the emerald tint of the bottle's swing as they watched her - Gape, Phileo, Storge and Eros. 

The glass pops against her mouth after she downs another shot -- "staring's fuckin' rude." Emerald shinning in the light as she slams her head back on the chair's arm, hitting her elbow against the pale blue velvet. She swallowed it down hard, bitter in her throat and felt it hit that of her stomach like cold air. She focused on this feeling, the cycle of air running down that of her throat like cold air and spinning like a vortex as she held her breath. The expand of her lungs and the burning in them, it was better than feeling had been these past few years. And she exhaled, hard, yawning and noting the feel of cold air leaving her. 

She downed another shot, imagining each sip like a pistol's aim as she popped the bottle from her mouth. Each hit in the back of her throat like a bullet, each cold exchange with the body she betrayed so often as the smoke. Her hand on the neck -- the trigger. Each sip she prayed it killed her almost because it was better than the boredom. It was better than waiting for her damn kidneys' to fail and it was better than wasting in this mountain top castle praying for somebody to finally poison her next bottle. It was better than hearing the rage sink in again, hearing the hallow of her stomach as the liquor hit it echo last breaths. 

It was better than a lot of things she could think of. 

And that's why she still wasted her time with it. 

One more sip, kisses on the chilled emerald glass and it hits once again. In its echo through her body she hears the clashing of teenage swords, the hilt cold in her hand as she closes her eyes. She was born for this, she remembers. The hot of the gym on her skin and his brown eyes meet her's and she would kill him again if she had the choice or the chance. 

Killer kids, black hair cut short, her hands trapped in his, "just watch me -- you know you did it anyways, Calanthia." The emerald hilt of the handle frosting in her hand, absorbing the heat of her palm; "it's Calan."

"Whatever." 

Calanthia opened her eyes, placing the bottle in her mouth and downing another throat full. "Fuck," it's something that haunts him. Her. Just some more suppression, drowning it in the sun's heat and reflection on her exposed skin -- it's who she has to be. It's who the four of them are, and who she never chose to be. Eros yawns, she yawns too. Pale fingers nearly letting the bottle slip, "shit." She scratches her forehead, fingernails bitten down to the bed smooth against her skin. Shit. The headache begins and she closes her eyes -- whatever.

"Oh fuck you, Jannik." 

He held his black hair in his fists, spit drying on the red of his lips and their breaths warm. Calan laughed and it echoed through the apartment -- they were roommates. Jannik didn't pay for anything and he didn't have to, perks of being paired with a rich boy. Calanthia bit on fog remembering, downing another shot as the headache began its bass. They were roommates, Calan took a swig, Jannick held his neck and pushed his mouth on his. 

"What, can't choose? Not the first time."

"Fuck off," Calanthia rubbed her eyes. It echoed in her mind like the reverberation of her mind trying to shut itself off. Jannik feel on him, the both of them falling to the floor, the carpet kissing Calan's exposed skin, rubbing his back raw as he smashed the bottle into the flesh of his skin -- "get off of me, jackass!"

Liquor mixed with blood, Jannik's mouth on his again, "or what?" He reached for the glass, left arm shaking with the stab wounds and stinging with the alcohol, "that's not how it fucking works; besides, this is what you fucking want, Calanthia? Right?"  Rough hands dug into Calan's short hair, he dug the glass into Jannik's smooth fucking face. The cuts unclean -- you were born for this. Jagged, blood running down the emerald glass as Calan worked it up and into his eye from his cheek; "I said get the fuck off of me," the headache deafening and Calanthia ran, smashing the emerald bottle in her hand on the white dresser -- "fuck." 

said i ain't nobody's issue
don't you come around babe
'cause i don't miss you at all
i ain't nobody's problem but my own

well i ain't nobody's problem
but my own
said i ain't nobody's problem
but my own

"Just watch me," Jannik's voice echoing in the back of her mind, echoing in the heat of the career center. 

Calanthia held her hand, hot and bleeding and she shut the sink off, thin steam fogging up her eyesight as she slid on the gym's wall. He held Calan's hand, the cut stinging like liquor as he held the shard in his hand, "just watch me," it played, over and over and Calanthia tucked her eyes in her knees - no, I can't. 

Four cats watched her sway her hand, "fuck off Jannick," the emerald bottle swinging and Calan hears it smash against the ground, tripping and slamming his hand into the pile -- fuck. She slices her hand on one of the shards, fuck, fuck, fuck. Calanthia approaches her mother, four cats watching her sway. 

"I want to live on my own." 

"Then you will be a career."

Whatever -- "perfect." 

The heat of the gym's steam warms her face, she's sweating and she can't realize if it's the heat or the liquor -- whatever. They came in four, Eros, Storge, Phileo, Gape, their emerald eyes watching her, swaying and swinging and swaying and swinging and swaying and swinging.

Fuck. 

And Calan ran from the room, ten p.m. moon light on his exposed skin and he shed it; she shed everything that resembled down to the short hair - whatever. Whatever, and she held her hand is her's and the cut stung, the shards removed and it burned like liquor still. Lucrezia fed his body to the leopards. Four eyes watched them sway, swing, sway, swing. 

Aellia, Euley, Lucrezia, Calanthia. 

said i ain't nobody's issue
don't you come around babe
'cause i don't miss you at all
i ain't nobody's problem but my own