Reese remembered those days with a vivid sharpness that she hated. She hated it, hated them, but she can’t let herself forget them. She won’t let herself forget them. She remembered the days of eternal blackness, of a soul-sucking hate that were spent in a dark house, and in shrouded silences that screamed worry. But she couldn’t find it in herself to actually care. She hated that too, so all she did was spend her time, crashed in front of the television, reruns of Supernatural on, and empty tubs of ice cream next to her. She wasn’t proud of those days.
Infernal red and locked doors chased away those days, leaving her shrieking nonsensical words and throwing things across rooms. No one dared to come near her, then, though she fixed everything as soon as it broke. But only so she could break it, shatter it, tear it apart again. Voices and images haunted her, endless screams and wide-open eyes. Horror etched onto faces, and an absolute knowledge. Nothing could be worse than those days.
Then again, that could be arguable. The days of lavender walls, and tender touches were infinitely worse. The memories of the pain, the pain she was supposed to forget sat deep in her bones, to the point that she couldn’t move, couldn’t speak without aching. Blank stares accompanied her, and horribly beautiful blue eyes. She couldn’t make herself look away. Logan and Levi tried to reason with her, then, and she didn’t know which one was worse-the look of absolute desperation on Levi’s face, or the anger on Logan’s. She makes sure, now, that she never sees those particular expressions cross their faces again.
No, worse were the ones with the blues. Everything she’d see would be stained with blue-every book she read, every Sherlock episode she watched, blue. She absolutely hated it, with a burning passion, but there was nothing she could do about it. Levi would reassure her that it was normal, just the Glamours resettling themselves in her body, but she didn’t remember this part of the Glamours. The Glamours she remembered were light and happy, but she supposes with all that she’s done now, the Glamours would hurt, no matter how worthy she was of them. She didn’t feel like she deserved anything so good, so pure.
But the thing she hated most was the knowledge. The absolute knowledge that she was all of fourteen years old, and that this was death. It hurt like-well, it was best she doesn’t say what it hurt like. She felt every nerve in her body- freezing and burning, smashing, pushing, pulling at the same moment. She felt her eyes explode. It was something she never talks about. The memories would drive her crazy if she let herself dwell on it-on the pain, on the memory of waking up, on the ache in her skin, her bones, her muscles for months afterwards. On the panic of finding out that she had become something hated. The fact that she had to leave.
She was about to, when Levi came running in. His hands were alight with power, energy, and she could sense it. In fact, she could see it, his aura dancing under her eyelids, and sending energy thrumming underneath her skin. Her senses expanded in an instant, covering the little field their house rested on, and she could see colors, in a way she’d never seen before. She could see Logan, innocent little brother that he was, who paced across their kitchen. She could sense his fear. She could sense his apprehension. She was overwhelmed, exhausted, as her senses exploded, reaching out, out, out into their little Pocket City, and out of it, reaching the Other Beings. She could tell as they froze, as they stopped their relentless attacks against the North Wall, retreating back and back until she didn’t know where they were.
She opened her eyes, and could feel the burn of energy underneath them.