Capitulum XXIII

S till in fox form, my scream came out as a high-pitched yip.

As I scrambled away from him, my limbs stretched and contorted back to arms and legs.

The face was imperfect, lumpy, and wrong in spots, but his intention was clear. I didn't even need to see the wide, wicked smile on his face.

A primal whimper of fear scratched its way out of my throat. Suddenly, hands grasped me, scooping me up by the ribs and clutching me hard. It was jarring to feel so much of Professor Faun pressed against me while we were in public.

Tears were streaming out of my eyes like I was boiling over. I couldn't stop it, even as they soaked into Professor Faun's shirt.

As the confused voices began building on each other, I pushed off of Professor Faun and snatched my cane from where it'd clattered onto the floor.

No one stopped me as I hurried out of the building before collapsing into the snow, legs too weak to carry me any further.

The sob came out of me like sick — hot and acidic. I had to clutch my chest in an attempt to stifle the actual physical pain I was experiencing. Luckily, it was snowing heavily enough that everyone who wasn't actively in a class was tucked away inside.

I curled forward, pressing my face into the snow, feeling it crunch under the pressure. The jarring coldness felt nice, forcing me back into the moment as I fought against the memory desperately trying to push its way to the forefront of my brain.

Each breathless sob had me remembering the feel of the belt around my neck, the pressure of his body against my back, forcing me into the ground. It was relentless, chipping away at any mental fortitude I had left.

"Christ on a bike, girl, what's wrong?" Stacy's voice pulled me out of my crying, followed by her clomping footsteps as she hurried through the snow toward me.

I looked up, wiping soaked strands of hair from my wet skin.

She stopped in front of me, looking down in genuine bewilderment. "Are you okay?"

I sniffed. "I hate him."

"What? Hate who?"

"Rigel." I hiccupped. "I'm going to fucking kill him."

She shook her head. "You can explain it to me inside."

I allowed her to help me to my feet, and I managed to calm my crying down to silent hot tears as we crossed campus to her tree.

I didn't even realize how cold I'd gotten until I was by the fire, body shaking uncontrollably.

I trembled in silence, sniffling as I removed my jacket and sweater so the fire could dry them. She gave me a blanket I'd crocheted for her to cover my bare arms.

She pulled her chair before me and grunted as she flopped into it. "Now tell me, why do you want to kill Rigel?"

"He's an asshole."

"That's not new," she said matter-of-factly, pulling out a blazer with a partially mended sleeve. "It's certainly nothing worth crying over."

"He did something to embarrass me, something exceptionally cruel, even for him."

She frowned, looking up from the blazer in her lap. "Why would he do that?"

"Are you saying I deserved it?"

"No," she sighed. "I'm just trying to get a mental image of what's happening. I don't like when my kids fight."

"He did it because he's a fucking psycho."

"Yes, he's not very good at handling negative emotions. I will agree with you there."

"Stop defending him."

"I'm not, Agnes. If you just wanted someone to mindlessly agree with you, you'll have to save your complaints for your little blonde friend." She leaned back and crossed her scaly arms. "Give me a little credit at least. Trust me, the boy and I will have words."

"Fine, go on, then. Tell me about how complex and deep he is and how he's just allowed to fuck with everyone because he doesn't care about anyone who can't benefit him."

"Agnes," she said my name with a sigh.

"What, Stacy? Are you going to tell me he's some big victim, and I'm supposed to feel bad for him even though he does nothing but lie and turn on people the second they don't do exactly what he wants?"

"What has he lied about?"

"He pretends to give a shit about people."

"About you?" To my surprise, she chuckled. "Trust me, girl, he gives a shit."

"Well, he doesn't fucking act like it."

"There's a difference between wanting to be liked and being comfortable with the feeling of liking someone in return."

"That doesn't make any sense."

"It's a vulnerability, Agnes, whether you're aware of it or not. Some people can't deal with that well. I'm not saying it's good, but..."

"What are you trying to tell me? Turn the other cheek? Give him a big kiss and say it's all fine?"

"I'm telling you to try your best not to take it so personally and to look at the source of this behavior before you take it to heart."

"The source is that he's an entitled asshole who delights in cruelty."

"Perhaps." She sighed. "Though I don't believe he likes being this way."

"Is that some kind of excuse?"

"I'm just saying that you're treating him like someone he never got the option of being."

"I treated him like a friend ."

She shot me a sad smile. "That's what I mean." She patted me on the knee. "I am sorry, though. You don't deserve to be treated that way for any reason."

"Thanks, Stace." I sniffed. "Is my stuff dry? I should probably go get my bag. I have a lot of studying to do for midterms."

She helped me gather my stuff and gave me another shoulder pat. She meant well, but I wasn't going to let bygones be bygones as quickly as she clearly wanted me to. I didn't care about what his damage was.

Ambling back to Corporeality Hall, I was happy the snow flurry gave me an excuse to keep my eyes down as people passed. I didn't want to have to stop and talk to anyone about what happened.

The classroom was empty except for Professor Faun, who paced in front of the windows.

When the door opened, he turned, shoulders sagging. "Are you all right?"

"I'm dandy," I said, my voice pitifully nasal.

He approached me slowly, like he was afraid he would startle me. "Don't make me ask twice."

"I told you I'm fine," I said, trying to lower my voice back to a calm timbre. "He was just being a dick, and I wasn't expecting it. It doesn't matter."

After picking my bag up, I reached inside and fingered the small box still nestled at the bottom. I didn't trust my room to lock to him, so I'd figured it would be safer to have it to hand. Part of me assumed his stunt was designed to snatch it.

Surprisingly, I was disappointed. Part of me had wanted him to just have it so I would never have to talk to him again.

Professor Faun's hand glided against my back, and he pulled me close, pressing his forehead to my temple. "I'm sorry."

"It's fine. It was just... fine." He leaned in to kiss me, but I turned away. "I thought we needed to stop getting so used to touching each other."

"Agnes . . ."

"No. Did you not notice the way you grabbed me earlier? In front of everyone? You can't do shit like that."

My words were more acidic than I wanted them to be.

He'd done nothing wrong, but I wasn't in the mood to be comforted. Seeing Cass's face had brought back that awful sickness, the kind that made love feel poisonous.

He put his hands up and stepped away from me. "I'm proud of you."

"Don't be."

I turned and left without looking at him, afraid I would fold if I allowed myself to take him in.

All I wanted to do was collapse onto my bed, but as I stalked through the middle of campus, I suddenly realized it wouldn't be quite that easy.

Sitting on the plinth at the feet of the headless angel was a familiar shape, even in the thick white of the snow.

When he saw me, he rose to his full height, a devilish smirk appearing on his face as it came into view.

"Feeling better?" Rigel asked.

I pushed past him, not interested in amusing him with my display of emotion.

"You can't play it cool now. You already had a public freakout. There's no going back." Snow crunched under his feet as he pursued me. "It's your fault, you know. You thought you could beat me at my own game, but you're not strong enough."

I stopped, feeling an odd, miserable blanket of exhaustion fall over me.

When I turned to him, he had a victorious smile, clearly anticipating more tears. Instead, I dug around in my bag, grabbing the little box and pulling it free.

His eyes widened when he saw it, revealing all the snowflakes caught in his long lashes.

Then I chucked the box over his shoulder.

"There you go, Rigel. Congrats. You win." I shook my head. "I don't want your help. I don't have any interest in speaking with you ever again."

He laughed in my face. "How else will you map your way to Last Hope?"

"It's no matter of yours."

"But I'm the one who knows about everything that happened to you."

"No, you're not. I told Arlie everything."

He blinked at me, the first time I'd ever seen him seemingly at a loss for words.

"Bye, Rigel," I said, turning, only to feel his hand on my shoulder, spinning me back around.

"No, you can't do that."

"Do what? Not give a shit about you anymore? I think you'll find I'm capable."

"You just went on a whole long rant telling me that we weren't nothing."

"Yeah, and now we are nothing. It's not hard to grasp."

"You don't mean it. You need me."

"For what, Rigel?"

He scoffed, eyes scanning the empty space around me like he wasn't sure where to look. "You'll need my help eventually."

"Even if that were true, I wouldn't ask for it."

"No. That's not how this works."

"This is what happens when you punish people for caring about you. Now you know."

I spun on my heel and continued toward the dorm, but his footsteps followed me to the stairs.

"You're overreacting."

I ascended, not giving him the benefit of acknowledgment.

"Stop this."

Nothing.

" Please ."

I didn't even flinch.

~

Rigel didn't show up for class for the rest of the week. I only spotted him once, shoveling snow under Stacy's watchful eye. I wanted satisfaction from his punishment, but my mind went defensively blank.

On the fifth occasion of his disappearance from Transformation, I finally hung back to ask Professor Faun what was happening.

"He's no longer in this class," he said, not looking at me as he wiped off the names from the bracket on the chalkboard.

I dropped my voice. "What did you do?"

"He was being a disturbance to the... other students." He shot me a look over his shoulder. "You know he had no real business in this class, regardless. He tested out and happily accepted the extra free time."

"He's going to think I asked you to do it."

"You care what he thinks?"

I scoffed.

"Good," he said, stepping down off the ladder. "Then, everything's fine."

"Sure," I sighed, trying to sound resolute and failing miserably.

His arms came up like he wanted to hug me but stopped halfway before crossing tightly over his chest. "I know he was your friend, Agnes, but please take my word that it's for the best."

"I should go."

Unfortunately, I was on my way to the library to bury my head in the atlases. Hoping that, eventually, the assortment of numbers and letters would demystify before my eyes. I hadn't had the heart to tell everyone that I'd given up our only bargaining chip to get the route mapped. So, I would try my hand at it in hopes I could conjure something useful by the end of the year through brute force.

But after staring blankly at the atlases for a few hours, I found my brain wandering somewhere else in the library.

It felt like a violation to read Rigel's history. Regardless, part of me hoped that, deep down, knowing would finally grant me the sympathy he'd unlocked in others.

I had to check the directory first before delving into the archive. When I found his history, I tucked it in my bag and squirreled away to my room to read it. When I finally sat in my desk chair, I paused, staring at the red leather cover.

Rigel Dean Wight

Inside was the story of a real person, not just the posturing dickface I could never predict. It hadn't even occurred to me I might not want to understand him on any level outside casual acceptance of his strangeness.

But, with a long breath, I picked up the history, opened it, and began reading.

It didn't take long. None of our histories were terribly lengthy for obvious reasons.

When I was done, I flipped it closed, paused, then flung it into the fireplace.