all i :: [paige/(blitz)/saffron] :: never wanted

It's not downcast eyes that bark back at me, not a turning of her face and a trudging out of the door. Saffron Lowe charges into my room, and I want her out. I want her gone, away from me. She broke me, once. Not again. Never again. It's all her fault. All of this is her fucking fault.

“It's my mouth. I can say whatever the Hell I want, to whoever the Hell I want,” I bark back, pushing a few strands of hair out of my face. Honestly? It's moments like this that make me realize how much I've grown. That I can stare her in the eyes now, if not even stare down. (Mother says we look alike, more than ever; I pray the cigarettes ruin my face someday.) Saffron Lowe is not a guardian, now. Not someone I idolise, looking up to with bright eyes and a warm smile.
– Saffron Lowe is not my sister.

“Don't you have better shit to be doing?” I ask, rummaging through my drawers for some basic clothing. I'd be damned if I was going to be forced into some frilly little dress. “Or, wait, did you run out of friends to kill?” I add with false sincerity, knowing that going for the jugular as soon as possible was always her best defense.

I'm not frail anymore. Not a little child, blinking and locking fingers. I am the dragon in all of the stories Saffron told me growing up, ferocious and breathing fire when I could be singing songs and dancing. Fuck that shit. Fuck it all. Life's not a fairy-tale, a little land inside of a glass ball that snows whenever you Ripred-damn want it to.

Life's a fucking wasteland, and I'm smart enough to know it.

I shove past her and into the hallway, not caring if my words hurt her –
honestly? I hope it burnt.

“Let me give it to you straight,” I start, turning on my heels and facing Saffron. She's killed before, and that should terrify me. The fact that she's killed someone who loved her back. (What could she do with someone who hates her?) But I don't flinch. I only roll my shoulders, and tilt my head.“If I could leave this house, dear Ripred I would. I hate it here. I hate everything in this house. I hate you, I hate the fucking fanciness of all this prissy as fuck shit, I-... The last time I ran away and was gone for over a week, Mom got sick from it. She was scared for me, which is bullshit. I don't want people to be scared for me. I can handle myself.” I groan, running my fingers through my hair once more –
am I doing it out of impulse? Or to rid myself of the locks that are so similar to hers?

“Mom's the only reason I stay here. So don't get so uppity with yourself. If I could get out of here without hurting her, I would. Honestly, I wish you would kick me out. Then she couldn't do anything -- except maybe hate you, too.” I cross my arms, relaxing my stance.

“Don't ask me what you did to make me hate you. That's pathetic. Suitable for you, but pathetic. Just own yourself, Saffron. Own how much of a worthless bitch you are.” I spread my arms, smiling with a cockiness of sorts. “I sure as Hell do.”

I turn, tossing my hair over my shoulder. (Walk. Walk faster. Get away from this. You need safety, y'know you do.) I start walking away from her, peering over my shoulder. “That's the difference between us, Saff.” (Saff? That-... That's old.) “I'm not afraid of myself. Not afraid of how awful of a person I am. Honestly, I should give less of a shit about Mom, I-... I should do a lot of things, but-... Just, not talk to you. I don't need this. So, please, fuck off. You had your fun, now walk away.”

(Walk, Paige, walk. You're afraid, you feel cornered. Get out!)

“Leaving's your speciality, anyway.”
– Don't leave me. Not again. Please.

When she slaps me, I can feel the fire within my lungs become lodged within the confides of my throat. Every harsh comment I've ever wished to release unto her form threatens to erupt from my lips, but all that I can muster is a slight quiver. She's crying, heaving, telling me to leave, and I'm fighting back tears myself.

Fuck.

It's not as if I've never been hit before. It's not like a chick hasn't ever got the wrong idea at the bar, accusing me of talking to her man and decking me right then and there. I could handle myself, it's what I prided myself on, but-... It doesn't break me knowing that my sister just struck me, telling me to leave.

What breaks me is that I can't bring myself to fight back.

My shoulders rise and fall, my chest following suit, and I don't know what to do. I've never been out of words, never found myself stumped, and it's killing me. I clutch at my hair, backing away. All I have now is my strength, my ability to turn my face away without giving a flying fuck, and she just took that away from me. She's weak, pathetic; but she's still ruining me. She's nothing to me, but-...

It hurts knowing she hates me, too.

'Cause she does, doesn't she? I'm ungrateful, harsh, bratty, and-... I need to go. I start gasping by the time I snap back into reality, realizing the fact that everything in my life is nothing but a handful of shards. Each one a different fragment of my innocence, and now I'm getting pierced to death, and I-... I-...

I turn, trying to get away as fast as I can. I'm desperate to find somewhere to go, someplace to be. Anywhere other than here, with anyone other than her to wreck me. I swore I'd never break again, and now look at me. I'm worthless. I'm still the same ol' Paige, and I-...

I slip.

I stumble, and I find myself tumbling down the stairs in my attempt of escaping. My head eventually finds solace in banging against the wall near the bottom. My world goes fuzzy, both my mind and my body screaming, and before long my mouth finally begins to work. I scream in anger, sadness, pity for myself, and-...

I scream for her –
'cause like it or not, I need her.