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Malenia was tired.
She shouldn’t have been, of course. She should have been elated, overwhelmed with joy as she was greeted with praise and adoration from all sides. Her regional championship win that day, against the infamous Radahn “Red Lion” Carian, was immediately legendary, an incredible feat that was poised to go down in history and make co-ed fencing the most signed-up-for sport in the next semester. From the moment they left Raya Lucaria U to the evening party she now found herself at, Malenia was all that anyone could talk about. Everyone wanted to be her, or be with her.
And Malenia felt nothing. No triumph, no relief, no satisfaction. She didn’t even know if she could feel emotions any more, she certainly couldn’t name the last time she felt a single one. Life was just a slideshow of pain and effort, of waking up early every morning, doing the things she knew she had to do, and then crashing into bed for five or six hours of sleep before doing it all again. It paid off, technically; her grades were top of the class, and she hadn’t known a single defeat in a single bout of the whole tournament. To do this, as a chronically inflamed amputee? What an incredible feat, people said. Truly an inspiration.
But Malenia didn’t care. Her parents certainly didn’t care, forever caught up in their messy interpersonal and business squabbling. And her brothers didn’t care, not even her beloved Miquella, too busy being dragged around the Americas by their party-first-think-later brother Mohg.
But these people around her, her peers who treated her not as a peer but as some kind of demigod. Maybe they cared. And so Malenia performed as she should for them, posing for photos as people chanted, “Valkyrie! Valkyrie!” Giving speeches extolling the virtues of Haligtree U, drinking and smoking whatever she was offered at the frat house party thrown in her honor, though refusing anything harder out of a sense of responsibility and class. She was sooooooooo cool, she knew. Everyone wanted to be her or be with her. Except for Malenia herself. She wished she could be someone different, somewhere far away from herself and her wretched, exhausted body.
And so she did the next best thing she could, which was getting away from everyone else, stealing into the night in a rare moment where no eyes were on her. Drunk and high, she stumbled across the campus grounds, her floor-length dress catching at her feet, the red university flag that had been tied around her neck fluttering behind her like a cape. She walked and walked and walked, aimlessly wandering, avoiding everyone she saw. Her golden yellow ballcap, adorned with wing-shaped patches on the side, shielded her sensitive eyes from the sodium streetlights that dotted the university, which shone out aggressively against the starry evening sky. Eventually she found herself in the ravine behind the school, fumbling down the hill and onto the shore of the river.
She stared blankly at her reflection in the slowly moving water. And then she fell to her knees and vomited all over it.
As she coughed out the last of the sick, watching the half-digested mixture of cake, party snacks and colourful cocktail booze float gently down the current, Malenia took a deep breath in. Her nose and throat burned with a nauseating acidity. And… she loved it. The sensation cut sharply through the haze of booze and weed that clouded her mind, and the acute pain of it pushed through the weight of the chronic pain that sat perpetually upon her. She wanted more, and so she gave herself the pleasure, shoving a finger down her throat to make herself throw up again and again, until only a thin bile came out, and then until the muscles in her body would simply not allow her to anymore. She collapsed forward, curling into a shivering little ball, her long red hair caught in the river’s flow.
It felt good to feel like this. Weak, pitiful, pathetic, incapable. Here she was nobody’s hero, nobody’s model student, nobody’s perfect little girl. She wasn’t hot in her sheer hot girl dress that showed too much leg, she was just miserable, shaking and cold in the chill spring air. She was vaguely aware of her stupid hat falling off at some point, floating away in the water. Here, the only thing that took from her was the river, and it took from her graciously, without expectation or judgement. She wanted to give it more of herself, let it wash away all the parts of her that she no longer wanted.
Unsteadily, she rose to her knees, and withdrew from her purse a pure gold pocket knife, a gift from her brother Miquella. Once he was the person closest to her, who cared for her, who went to med school in the hopes of finding a cure for her pain. Then taken away by that same responsibility, and by the neediness of their youngest brother Mohg. Why couldn’t she be needy? Why must she always be this model of perfection for the benefit of everyone else’s joy? Without thinking, she opened the switchblade with a metallic click, placed the handle held firmly in the palm of her prosthetic hand and held the blade against her other. With a sharp breath she brought the sharp edge swiftly across her flesh.
She watched the blood drip slowly down from the fresh wound into the placid waters, each scarlet drop briefly reflecting the starry midnight sky. This wasn’t enough, she figured, the river deserved more of her, so she cut again, and again. She stared in wonderment at the now stream of blood falling from her left hand. It hurt, a lot, but this pain was hers and hers alone, not pain that she gave for someone else’s benefit. Here it was just her and the river, alone, silent companions.
Slowly, she moved the tip of the knife down to the front of her wrist, holding it experimentally against the vein. She imagined all of it, all of her pain, all of her numbness, all of her sadness, all of her everything pouring out into the water, until she was left with nothing, until she didn’t have to be herself anymore. Newton by newton, she gradually pressed the blade harder and harder into her skin. Surely she wouldn’t actually do it? Unless-
“Malenia? Is that you?”
A young woman’s voice cut off whatever macabre thing Malenia was about to do next. Quickly, she shoved the knife, still slick with red, back in her purse, and shoved her hand against her thigh, because she couldn’t think of what else to do with it. Finlay Ridire, one of the members of the fencing team, came jogging awkwardly down the slope, stopping at the bottom to catch her breath. She grinned at Malenia, who tried her best to smile back.
“Hey!” Said Finlay, still grinning, “I found you!”
“Hi, Fin,” Malenia felt herself immediately slipping back into her normal self, that cool intensity, as if where she was and what she had just been doing didn’t matter, “What, uhm. What are you doing here?”
“What are you doing here, is the real question. You disappeared from the party suddenly, so I thought I’d go find you, make sure you’re good.”
“I’m fine,” answered Malenia, a little too quickly, “just… getting some air.” She was eternally grateful for the darkness of the evening, which hid her wet hair, her sallow complexion, and the red stain that was slowly spreading across her leg and dress.
“Sure thing, I get that. Well, I’ll just-” Finlay’s eyes went suddenly wide. “Oh my god, are you bleeding!?”
“No I-” Malenia lifted her hand defensively, instinctively, revealing her thrice-sliced palm to Finlay for an instant before she pulled it back into a fist, the fresh wounds stinging as her nails dug into them. “Look, it’s not-” She fumbled for what to say.
“M-Malenia,” Finlay stuttered, swallowing, trying to keep her composure, “Are you okay?”
It was a stupid question, obviously the answer was no, but she probably just didn’t know what to say. And Malenia honestly didn’t know how to answer. She opened and closed her mouth a few times, like a gaping fish, but the words never came. And then suddenly she just burst out crying, weeping into the dirt, all of her usual composure gone. Feeling weak, pitiful, pathetic, and incapable now felt awful, making a fool of herself in front of this woman who probably would be her friend if she was capable of making them. If she could find the physical strength to do so she would have thrown herself into the river right then and there, to save herself from the utter embarrassment of it all.
The sound of ripping fabric suddenly filled the air, and she looked up to find that Finlay had taken off her school logo-emblazoned t-shirt, and was tearing at it with her hands, until she managed to get a single long strip of fabric out of it. Unceremoniously tossing the ruined shirt aside, she knelt down, taking Malenia hand gently by the wrist and uncurling the fingers. Carefully, but efficiently, she wrapped the strip of fabric around Malenia’s hand, securing it with a tight little knot. Malenia didn’t know what to think of this gesture, so she said nothing, just lay there, inert.
“So, uhm…” Finlay began awkwardly, “do you… want to go to the hospital?” Malenia shook her head. The public embarrassment that would inflict upon her was a fate worse than death. “Okay… do you want to go home?” Malenia shrugged. It wasn’t the worst option.
“Alright,” said Finlay, rising to her feet. She waited a moment, and then when Malenia showed no intent of moving, said, “uhm… can I help you up?”
Malenia didn’t respond. She tried to, tried so hard to say or do anything, to move herself off the ground. But she just couldn’t. The crushing weight of months and months of exhaustion and pain were suddenly pinning her to the ground. Every part of her, prosthesis or no, suddenly felt immovably heavy, as if her body had been turned to gold. As if she was already dead, and was just an unmoving corpse. Finlay stood there waiting for her for a good while, before eventually giving a heavy sigh.
“...okay. Forgive me for this, captain.”
And then Malenia found herself swept off the ground, brought up against Finlay’s chest in a dramatic bridal carry. Her whole body tensed in response to the sudden movement, and then slowly relaxed as Finlay began to trudge up the hill and across campus towards Malenia’s apartment. What a Finlay thing to do, thought Malenia idly, as she closed her eyes and rested her cheek against the rough cotton undershirt, feeling the bulk of two layered sports bras beneath it. Finlay had joined the team with little prior experience, and a physical bulk and inelegance that made her more suited for rugby then fencing. But she had proved herself through sheer dedication, not just to the sport but to the team, always willing to pick up overflow administrative work, which Malenia was silently grateful for.
The exhausted Malenia was only vaguely aware of her surroundings as they made the trek, of people stopping Finlay, and of her reassuring them that Malenia had just drank too much and had asked to be brought home. She was grateful for the tact deception. She had drank too much, of course, she always did, hoping that it would numb the pain and bring some sort of emotion out of her, which it never did. Eventually they found themselves at the base of Malenia’s apartment building, and Finlay rifled around in Malenia’s purse for her keys, swearing quietly as she did, presumably at the discovery of the bloodied knife.
Once they had made their way into the apartment, a swanky condominium paid for by her parents in lieu of care and affection, Finlay laid her gently down upon the couch. As she listened to the sounds of the woman busying herself about the kitchen, Malenia stared up at the yellowed leaves of her stupid indoor tree looming over her. It had been a gift from her brother, and she had just let it die. Idiot.
The clatter of glass on wood made her turn her head, to find that Finlay had gotten each of them a glass of water and a steaming bowl of canned soup. Sitting down in an armchair across from her, Finlay began to eat hers while looking at Malenia with an expectant stare. She willed herself to sit up and take a few halfhearted sips from the cup and the bowl, if only to make Finlay less worried. Though it was probably too late for that, she thought, as she observed the darkly stained strip of red fabric wrapped around her hand. The two of them ate silently, until Finlay’s bowl was empty and Malenia’s was half so. She was starving, but she could still barely eat.
“What are you up to tomorrow?” Asked Finlay. Her voice was soft, calming.
“Two interviews, a study group, and class,” answered Malenia reactively, “oh, and a meeting with Loretta to plan the team debrief.” It was so much, she knew. But she could still do it, and she would.
“Give me your phone.” The demand was firm, but her tone was still gentle.
Without really thinking about it, Malenia took off her purse and tossed it to Finlay, who caught it and fished out the cellphone.
“Passcode?”
“MQLA- uh, 6752.” Why did she tell her that?
Finlay typed in the code, and then for a while, just typed into Malenia’s phone, doing who-knows-what. Malenia couldn’t really bring herself to care.
“Okay, I cancelled all of that.”
“Wh-what!?”
“Actually, hang on, your calendar’s on here, I’m just gonna cancel your whole week.”
Malenia tried to say something, to stop her, but she couldn’t bring herself to do so. Instead she just sat there, watching as her fencing teammate completely destroyed all of her carefully built plans. Everyone would be so upset with her, she thought. Now she really wanted to die. But there was also a sense of relief, if a small one. Finlay finished with her task, dropping the phone back in the purse and the purse on the table. After a moment, she grabbed it again, took out the switchblade, folded it up, and tossed it unceremoniously across the apartment. Malenia almost protested that the blade would rust if they didn’t clean it, but decided it wasn’t the time.
“You look like you’re out of food, so I’ll do some groceries for you tomorrow.” Malenia didn’t have the heart to tell her that she was pretty much always out of food; cooking and shopping was too much for her, so she ate almost exclusively takeout.
“I want to go to bed,” Malenia whimpered, putting her head in her hands. She was so exhausted in every possible way, covered in blood and dirt, and her whole body ached like hell.
“Okay,” replied Finlay. A beat, and then, with a hint of amusement, “do you want me to carry you?”
Malenia nodded, feeling pathetic. Finlay scooped her up again, carrying her the short distance to the bedroom and placing her gently down onto the messy, unmade sheets. Without really caring about the presence of the other woman- they had changed and showered together many times, after all, and her dress didn’t leave much to the imagination anyways- malenia stripped herself down to her panties, tossing her clothes unceremoniously aside. The cool, smooth sheets felt good against her skin, and she pulled the duvet over herself eagerly.
“I’ll go sleep on the couch,” said Finlay, who had turned her back to the changing Malenia.
“No, wait,” quietly pleaded Malenia, “don’t go.”
Finlay turned to her with a somewhat puzzled expression. “Okay, uhm… I’ll… sleep here?”
Malenia nodded. Loneliness was unfathomable and frightening to her. Finlay nodded back, and then turned again, taking off her undershirt and sports bras, putting the undershirt back on, and then taking off her jeans to reveal a pair of plain grey boxers. She slipped into bed next to her, very consciously giving her space in a way that Malenia found vaguely amusing. What a funny person. She suddenly realized that she knew almost nothing about her, though they talked several times a week.
“Why are you doing all this?” She should probably say thank you at some point, though that’s all she could say for now.
Finlay smiled awkwardly. “Is dedication to my team captain not reason enough?” Malenia shrugged, and then, after a pause, Finlay asked, “do you know why I joined the fencing team?”
“Why?”
“Because, uh,” she laughed nervously, “I wanted to get closer to you, honestly. You’re just… you’re just great. You’re kinda a hard person to get to know, though. No offense. So… maybe right now I’m just being a bit selfish. Sorry about that.” She laughed again.
“You’re forgiven,” said Malenia with a hint of irony. “I’m sorry too.”
“It’s all good. You should get some sleep, you look exhausted.”
Malenia nodded, took off her arm prosthesis, and closed her eyes. Before she knew it she was deeply dreaming of endlessly fighting across a great battlefield of sand beneath a scarlet sky. Her blood was rotted and her flesh was dull gold, and she left corpse after corpse in her wake.
—
When she awoke, the sun was streaming in through the curtained windows. She could hear the sound of the TV coming from the other room, overlapping Finlay’s voice complaining at some action game. For a while she just lay there and listened, quietly wrestling with the anxiety that she was late for something she knew had been canceled.
“Finlay?” She said blearily, as loud as she could. The noises stopped, and then a moment later Finlay appeared, still wearing just boxers and an undershirt.
“Oh, hey, you’re up.” She leaned casually against the doorframe. “You slept for so long, but I didn’t wanna wake you. I still haven’t gone shopping, but I did order a pizza if you want some.”
“Come here,” requested Malenia quietly, pulling aside the blanket.
Finlay raised an eyebrow, but nonetheless did as requested, sliding into bed next to her. And then the two of them kissed. And for the first time in longer than she could remember, Malenia felt something.