When they got to his house, the same house he grew up in, the same house his mother still lived in, the same house her aunt still lived in since she had a son and named him Gabriel. When Vivian weakly opened the door she fell out of it and curled into a fetal position. She was shaking. Gabriel was speaking. People were coming and going and Vivian just felt worse. She lay curled in a ball in the grass, shaking, covered in vomit and sweat and nearly every other kind of bodily fluid. She was disgusted. Thoroughly disgusted with herself. She knew it. She could so clearly taste the nightshade. But she had only taken a sip. Not enough to kill her. Yet anyway.
Some warm hands explored her face as she gripped her eyes shut. “Nightshade” she managed to whisper before she passed out. She awoke lying on a bed. Her bed. Her resident bed. The one she slept in as a child. She had her own bed of course. And her own flat, but she was rarely there. Not since Gabriel came back.
Gabriel sat in the window sill, facing her. His back was pressed against the large sill which every single window in the house had. He sighed. She was sleeping fitfully and the doctor had given them some medicine for her. He had managed to take her knives during the commotion so when she was bathe no one would worry or wonder. His cut was bandaged up. He had cut his hand when he had held her hair back. She had her knife stuck in her hair. A bloody one nonetheless. Why of all things?... Vivian stirred from her drug induced state that they had used on her. The medicine they had given also caused tiredness and hallucinations. It wasn’t goof but it was the best they had. She tossed her head from side to side. Gabriel was suddenly glad he had taken her knives. She was moaning. Saying things. Suddenly she opened her eyes and spotted Gabriel. “Your back.” She whispered before passing out again.
Four years ago, when Gabriel was 15 years old he had decided to go to the university. Vivian had already murdered over forty people in two years and he suspected that she wouldn’t miss him that much. He guessed wrong. She hadn’t written him as much as a letter, a sign that she was still alive. Five and a half months ago when he came back for good, she had literally attacked him. He had gotten off of the carriage which was crowded with six boys in his year(including him), in front of his house and as soon as the carriage door opened she had jumped on his and stayed. The boys behind him as laughed their silly heads off as Gabriel was being attacked by a girl. His trunks were set next to him and the carriage drove away, the laughter still audible. Vivian still hugged him. Tears in her eyes, he felt as they seeped into his shirt and she cried “You’ve been gone.” He had wrapped his arms around her, she was as tall as him by now but she was leaning over and hugging his torso. “You never even wrote.”
“You never even visited. I tried to write but…. I couldn’t. I missed you!” She had sobbed harder at that and he had promised her not to go to the university again. There was no possible way of him to go anyway, but it felt good to say. To get that stuffy place out of his head. After hours of that she stood up, wiped her puffy red eyes and pushed her long straight deep black hair behind her shoulders and put an arm around his shoulder, he realized how she wasn’t a little girl anymore. When he left she had hardly been 13 and now…Four years later she was 17 and she looked good.
Her hair had grown out to the middle of her back and somehow it seemed even darker, completely black like ink it was. She was so tall, and… he noticed that she had little thin knives stuck in her hair like pins.
“So its still going on?” he asked. Vivian nodded.
“And your going to help me.” She pulled out a letter which look exactly the same as the first one he saw and she told him her plan. He never stopped helping her get her family back. There was times, she said where she would receive blood, when she forgot or jewelry, and she always kept that. As far as Gabriel could tell, the memories of her mother were pretty small and she would keep anything that might be hers.
‘‘Do you still live here?” he had asked her
“I have a flat, but I like it here better.” Was her answer. She had taught him to throw and aim knives the next day. It was now a daily practice for him at the crack of dawn each morning. He would practice for an hour than go back to sleep.
It always amazed him how many weapons Vivian had. She had bought none of them with her own money of course- they were all gifts from her blackmailer. No matter where she was she had weapons. What time of day. Her clothing situation. One day while she was at the beach on a mission she had managed to sneak a bow and arrow and use it on the beach wit out anyone noticing. One day a few days ago she finally showed him where she kept her weapons and there was many. At east twenty kinds of knives, swords, axes, a bow an arrow, and her lucky first pair of daggers.
Vivian moaned again in her sleep. Gideon looked down at the paper in his lap and the pen and ink next to him and began.
Vivian woke to a pink and red sunrise right outside of her window. Gabriel was there, dozing in the sill as he had when he was younger. She had thought he had outgrown that fetish. She was still to weak to walk- that she could tell that immediately. How her body felt sleepy? She stretched her sleeping arms as she yawned. She caught a glimpse of a puddle of spilled ink on the floor. Gabriel. Had had paper grasped in his hand and she knew from years of experience that he’d be disappointed in himself at the crumpled paper, but he’d still neaten it out and hang it on his wall. She felt her eyes go sleepy and they drifted shut.
Gabriel opened his eyes on the early side for him. He had fallen asleep on the window sill again. He felt something in his hand. He looked down at it and cursed. Than he tried to un-wrinkle the paper and he put it aside so he could hang it on his wall.
He looked over at the bed. Vivian slept with her pitch black hair bellowed out behind her on her pillow. A small faint smile was on her lips and her eyes were closed. He quietly got up and went to his room to hang up his paper.
When he came back into the room she was still asleep. He sat on his sill again and looked out of the window at the life around him that kept moving even as he didn’t. He looked over at her again. Slowly she opened her eyes. There was a light twinkle in her storm gray eyes from a good dream. Gabriel suddenly got up and sat at the foot of her bed looking at her. She rubbed her face of sleep and yawned.
So. How do you feel?” he whispered gently. She looked up as if she had just noticed him.
“I had a wonderful dream,” she said yawning again and stretching her arms out in front of her. “I was in a ball of sorts, and I was having a lovely time in one of those rose colored dresses and then I went to talk to….” She frowned. “It wasn’t a dream.” Gabriel shook his head. “Good. It wasn’t that wonderful.” She said and pulled her blankets up around her.
“So.” He asked gently. ‘’ What happened?”
“I was walking over there and… a drink came into my hand.” She said. Making an odd expression. It was a mix of confusion and bewilderment. Than she scrunched her face up and yawned again. Her eyes drifted shut and she let them fall than she opened them again and blinked a few times. She looked at him unfocused. “Must…not…fall…asleep…” she said as her eyes slowly drifted shut.