DN - Bookcase

There it is. That perfect still moment. Me, bursting through the wall of books, paper falling from me in shredded waves. Graywytch, her eyes locking on me in sudden fear. This is something I’ve dreamed of for months. Maybe not this way, and not this fight, but this moment, this moment when she realizes that there are some people she shouldn’t push, some fights she shouldn’t have picked, has danced in front of me, a golden hypothetical begging to be made real.

The frozen moment ends, and I crash upon her, bone-to-bone, flesh-to-flesh, and we keep going, through the next bookcase, shattered wood and a blizzard of destroyed manuscripts. There are four distinct snaps, wet and satisfying.

We tumble apart against the floor. She skids one way, and I end up spilling the other. The world is jumping, spinning away from me. This time, I really do vomit. But I’ve hurt her.

One hand over the other, I crawl to where Graywytch is still gawping at the sheer amount of pain a human body can experience. My stomach roils, and the world spins about me; I don’t think I could call on the lattice right now even if I wanted to.

But I don’t have to, not for this. She makes a puppy-like effort to shove me off her and away, but I bat her arms aside and fasten my hands around her neck.

And squeeze, squeeze, squeeze.

We make eye contact, and right at that moment there’s an instant of quailing, a mote of hesitation in my fingers. Is this right—yes! Yes goddamnit! She deserves this! I deserve this!

So I squeeze, squeeze, squeeze.

No. I deserved so much more than this. I deserved so much more from you. But you treat me like shit, you tell me I’m worthless. Make me hate myself, make me a coward. Make me weak.

Squeeze, squeeze, squeeze.

You hold me down and torture me. For years! And nobody stops you. Nobody cares. And all I can do is run, run, run, until I’m small in everyone’s eyes. In my eyes.

(Someone’s calling my other name; I don’t pay attention.)

Squeeze, squeeze, squeeze.

Well, not anymore! Not today! Today you get what you deserve. I’m not running anymore. Never again. You made me weak! YOU MADE ME WEAK—

Something tugging at my cape, hauling me back. “Dreadnought, that’s enough!” Calamity is shouting.

“No!” The lattice squishes away from me when I try to grab it, a new cloud of nausea slipping in from the edges. Graywytch’s face is crimson shading to purple, and with a shaking hand, she twists a ring and disappears—air rushing in with a thump to fill the vacated space.

“I had him!” I shout twisting away from Calamity. “I fucking had him!”

She looks confused. “Who?”

“Graywytch! I almost—Goddamnit, Calamity! I was this close to ending it!”

“I’ll run ’er down for you,” she says in an even voice. “Get on upstairs and start working on those bars across the door. We need an exit in case she gets a second wind.”

- Sovereign, Chapter 21