Hiding Out

[Deleted]

I watch briefly as Julian disappears down the hallway, and then cross over to where a goodly amount of split logs are stacked in front of the fire. I pick one up and throw it on the metal grate deep in the hearth, noting the spicy aroma it leaves in the air. Fresh pine. Good, it'll make the whole house smell nice. I stack a few more logs in the fireplace, grab some matches from the counter, and rip up my mother's note for kindling. I place the paper under the logs and light it, leaving my fledgling fire to grow while I go to my room and change.

I gently shut the door to my room behind me, sighing heavily as I grab a hairbrush from my dresser and pull it through the golden tangles falling down around my shoulder. My hair's damp, but the fire will dry it. My clothes, however, are soaked and freezing cold from my fall in the snow and my gallivanting around in the woods with Julian. After the dripping clothes are piled on the floor and I've acquired some dry undergarments, I allow myself exactly one glance in the mirror. I swallow the terror I feel when I see my reflection. Twenty-four easily countable ribs. Collar bones sticking out sharp as knife blades, broad shoulders far more angular than anyone's should be. I disgust myself when I think of the fact that I don't look this way because of fate, like some poor kids in this district, but because of choice. I have done this to myself. I have taken advantage of my family's relative wealth, wasted all that good food my mother cooks, just to try to be skinny like the other girls. And even when I vomited myself into this emaciated state, I wasn't "skinny" enough to stop the taunting, the insults. I'm simply too big-boned. The problem was, I noticed this to late. By the time I tried to stop, my body wouldn't let me. I haven't been able to keep a meal down for months.

I shake my head, glancing pointedly away from the mirror and picking up my brother's clothes from my bed. I've always preferred Liam's baggy garments, the soft flannel far more comforting than the clingy lace blouses my mother buys for me. I slide the worn-soft jeans over my protruding hip bones, pulling the belt as tight as it will go, pull on the socks and reach for the bright green and yellow plaid shirt. I've got it about three fourths of the way buttoned when the resounding crash echoes from the kitchen.

I tear out into the hallway, confused but ready for action. Have the Peacekeepers already beat down our door? Is Julian's dog trying to eat Flint. I burst through the hall and into the middle of the kitchen, adrenaline rushing through me, and look around frantically. Not Peacekeepers. Not a carnivorous dog eating my pets. No, because either of those, and just about anything else in the world, would be less embarrassing and awkward than this.

Julian Scott. Standing in my kitchen. Shirtless. I'm rooted to the spot for a second, paralyzed with horror. Oh, shit. Oh. Shit. How am I supposed to deal with this? I'm blank for a few seconds until I realize that I'm not exactly decent, either. No, I'm standing in front of a boy I've just met with my bra completely visible. With my ribs completely visible. Shit! I spring into action, drawing the flannel protectively across my exposed skin, clamping a hand over my eyes and stumbling blindly back towards my bedroom.

"Oh God, I am so sorry! I heard the crash, and I thought something was wrong and I just ran out and... Wah!"

In my quest to find the hallway while totally blind, I manage to trip over a kitchen chair. My balance goes, and suddenly, I'm falling. I reach out, arms flailing, trying to grab something, anything, to arrest my fall.

Unfortunately, that something is Julian's arm.

Shit.

[/blockquote]

[Eastern Orange]

My cheeks redden when I see that Aria had entered the room, but not because I'm half naked. It's because she caught me playing with Czar. But then I realized that she was basically half naked too. My face grew hotter, and I averted my eyes quickly, but not before I got a very clear view of just how emaciated she was.

"It's alright..." Is all I can say to her rushed explanation. I wasn't looking at her so I don't know how she managed to run into me, and pull me to the ground with her. I yelp in surprise as fall on top of her, feeling just how far her bones stick out. I'm pretty sure I impaled myself on her hip.

I rolled over quickly, so that I'm next to her instead of on her. There was an awkward silence. "Just can't keep your hands off of me." I say seriously. Then I burst out laughing. I hold my side and I curl up, I'm laughing so hard. Czar comes over to investigate, the shirt still dangling in his mouth. First he sniffs my face, then climbs over me, placing a rather large paw in my stomach, to sniff Aria.

But as the mirth runs its course, I have a thought. If she can afford medicine supplies, guests, this house, and spare clothes, then can't she afford food? The note form her mother said that there was plenty of food in the house...so why was Aria so bloody skinny?

[Deleted]

I feel the shock of my back hitting the floor, followed by a slight weight crashing down onto me from above. I look up into the storm-cloud gray of Julian's surprised eyes, his face probably an inch from mine. For a single, inexplicable moment, my breath refuses to come to me. We lie there and stare at each other for a few seconds before he abruptly rolls over, now laying next to me.

"Just can't keep your hands off of me."

His face is completely expressionless, deadpanned. But after a few moments, a smile begins blossoming onto his face, one that's much nicer than the creepy grin he wore in the woods. Julian's real smile is actually almost heartwarming. Close-lipped, a little lopsided, it makes him look much younger, more like just a cute guy than the cruelly beautiful creature I met hours ago. I find a grin blooming on my own lips, laughter bubbling somewhere deep in my stomach. Julian's smile grows a bit wider, and we both explode into hysterics, clutching our stomachs from laughing so hard. I laugh until tears run down my cheeks, my face flushed from both mirth and weaning embarrassment at being seen half-naked by someone I barely know. My last bit of laughter leaves me in a long sigh, and I look over at Julian, who seems to be staring at me oddly. I quickly remind myself that my shirt's still hanging open, and I draw the fabric closed and do up the buttons quickly. I smile at him, more genuinely than I think I've smiled at anyone in a long time.

"I guess you can't almost die a freezing death in the woods with someone and not bond with them somehow," I say, a smaller bit of laughter leaving my mouth. "That was so awkward it was hysterical."

My stomach gives another sharp rumble, reminding me again that I haven't eaten since breakfast. I jump to my feet, giving Julian a hand and helping him up as well. I'm reassured by the fact that his hand is now comfortably warm against my own. I've saved him from hypothermia, at least. "Hey, I'm starving. I'm going to make us some dinner. Is grilled cheese and soup all right? I'm afraid I'm not much of a cook."

I leave Julian to his own devices while I get the meal ready. I walk over to the pantry and pull out four slices of bread and a can of condensed soup. It's the last one we have, I'll have to make sure to stock up again when I go to the grocery. I mix the soup and some water quickly together in a pot which I set on the stove, then pull some cheese and butter out of the icebox. Within a few minutes, I've got hot chicken noodle soup and sizzling sandwiches in two plates and two bowls on the kitchen table. I grab two small bowls from the cupboard and put some raw venison from the icebox in each of them, setting one down for Flint and one for the big black dog, who licks my hand exuberantly when I present him with his meal.

I slide into a chair next to Julian, digging into my bowl of soup and sighing contentedly as it warms any still-chilly corner of my body. I take a few bites of my sandwich as well, finding it to be a delicious product coming from someone whose most advanced dish is usually oatmeal. I glance up at Julian, finding those unsettlingly beautiful gray eyes watching me again.

"What, is the food of the unwashed masses not refined enough for your sensitive palette?" It's a snarky statement, but it's delivered with a smile. There's a strange contentment I can't really explain when I realize that Julian and I have gone from completely loathing each other to playfully bantering with an easy kind of friendship in just a few hours. Maybe the kid's all right, but I'm still not sure that I like the funny swooping feeling in my stomach every time he stares at me like that. For now, though, I squelch my thoughts on the matter and go back to my sandwich.

[/blockquote]

[Eastern Orange]

I watch her cook with interest, following her movements with my eyes. I don't know shit about cooking. At all. I can't even boil water. We have live-in servants that cook all our meals and such. But I'm also watching her because I'm still trying to figure out how she can be so skinny.

When she is half way through, I realize that I'm still shirtless. I look over a Czar who is laying in the corner, with the shirt between his paws, and was shredding it to bits. The little fox was curled up between Czar's shoulder blades. I smiled at the sight.

I looked back at Aria who was sitting now and eating. I looked at my plate, and back at Aria. I smiled at her dig. So it was back to the bantering? I make a disgusted noise in my throat. "Soup? Please, we eat liquid gold at my house." I scoff, using my best pompous voice. I turn my nose up at the grilled cheese. "Is this bread?" I say with horror. "We eat our cheese between the flesh of a unicorn. But I'll guess this will have to do." I pick up the grilled cheese with both hands, and both pinkies straight out. I take a delicate bite. "Oh, my poor spoiled self! I can't take another bite!" I place an arm over my forehead dramatically.

My theatrics were interrupted by a loud knock from the front door. I feel the cold hands of dread grip my entire body. I don't know why. It could be Aria's family, but for some reason I'm certain it's not. I feel a very familiar presence radiating through the door. I hear a horse whiny and my fear is confirmed. I'd know that whiny anywhere. It was my horse, whom I left at the house. And only one person would dare ride her without my permission. My entire mood turns black, and a feel my face harden. I look at Aria coldly. "I know this may be difficult for you, but it is imperative that you let me do the talking. Please."

I stalk towards the door and throw it open. A shiver runs down my spine, and it's not because I'm standing in the doorway without a shirt on. It's because on the other side of the door, smirking at me with more evil on his face then I could ever manage, was my big brother by just three minutes. My twin. "Adrian..."

Adrian's smile widens into menacing, I've-got-you-now smile. "Hello, little brother. What ever are you doing here?"

ooc: DUN DUN DA! This is turning into a soap opera. Next I'll be playing Julian in the hospital with brain cancer. But, I've always planed on Julian having a twin. Mostly because I like the Julian/Adrian thing. ^^ Hope you don't mind, and don't worry he won't stay, and I've already work out how he found Julian.

[Deleted]

Julian's switch from lighthearted joking to stone-faced seriousness shocks me. Why is he so worried about a knock on the door? It might just be my family coming back. But then I hear the sharp whinny of a horse outside, and I know that there's something more involved here that Julian's not telling me. A little shiver of fear snakes its way down my spine, and I push myself up out of my chair as Julian heads for the door.

"Wha-" I begin to ask, but he silences me with a grave look. I stand there, stunned and sppechless, as Julian flings open the door.

Standing outside in the cold, directly across form Julian is... Julian. Or at least so it would seem. This boy can't possibly be anyone but Julian's twin brother. The two look so much alike that they would be indistinguishable from each other if dressed in the same manner. They have the same deeply dark hair against snow-white skin, stormy grey eyes sparkling with intelligence, strong jawlines that sharpen their faces. The only difference between them is that the new boy is wearing extremely nice clothes and the degree of cruelty in his stunningly sharp features as opposed to his brother's. I had previously thought of Julian as dangerously attractive, but the deadliness rolling off his brother, Adrian, I hear him say, is palpable. The cold wind twirling in from outdoors has nothing to do with the shiver that overtakes me when I look at him. His smile is a perfect match for the creepy grin that Julian gave me in the woods, only I can feel more poison emanating from him than I ever did from Julian. I decide that Julian was right. I should keep my mouth shut. I really don't want to mess with this kid. Lord knows what's running through his mind right now.

Horror strikes me, and I let out a squeaky little gasp as Adrian smirks knowingly at his brother and turns to leer at me, the feeling in my stomach nothing like the one I get when Julian looks at me with the same grey eyes. I know exactly what's running through his mind. Julian holed up in a cabin in the snow with some District girl. Shirtless. Me standing here with my shirt still not entirely buttoned, hair messed up. Objectively, I realize,the pair of us look exactly like we've just done something that we definitely haven't. But Adrian doesn't know that, nor do I think he wants to believe that the reason Julian is in my house is entirely innocent. I swallow another gasp of terror as it wells up inside me. This could all end very badly.

I've heard about what happens to people that get on the wrong side of the Scott family. Often times, they just... disappear. Other times, they lose everything, their lives made miserable and impoverished. If a lifetime of agony is the penalty for pissing off a Scott, I wonder what the repercussions of a simple, unworthy girl from the pine sector supposedly sleeping with one are. I'm instantly afraid for my family. My dad and brother may not work for the Scott's sawmill, but he sells lumber directly to the mill for it to be processed. If Adrian decides to run and tell Dear Old Dad that his brother was having a roll in the hay with Brennan Fowler's daughter, our lives could take a definite turn for the worse.

I look desperately at Julian, trying to catch his eye, trying to convey my distress. He has to fix this. I don't know what is possible for him to say in a situation like this, but he has to say something. Theres a certain glint of malice in Adrian's eyes that makes me think that he'd find some way to twist the scene he's just walked in on into something awful for Julian and I anyway, but maybe Julian can do something to soften the blow. He has to. He has to convince his brother that this isn't anything like it seems, or my family may very well starve.

[/blockquote]

[Eastern Orange]

I don't look at Aria. I can't. For one, it would bring more attention to her then necessary, and two, I brought this monster here. I'm not afraid of my brother. He wouldn't dare hurt me, but he gets his kicks out of hurting others, especially animals. I look beyond him to my beautiful black mare, breathing heavily and frothing at the mouth. I hiss and push past Adrian, stepping into the snow without any shoes on. "What did you do to my horse?" I roar at him. I put my hand on her velvety noise, and whisper soft words to her to.

Adrian laughs. "What did you do with my dog?" Czar was indeed Adrian's dog. I glare back at him, but he isn't looking at me. He is grinning at Aria, now visible with me out of the way. I curse my self, and move back between them. "How did you find me?" I snap. Adrian sighed, disappointed that we weren't moving on to more interesting topics, like the girl standing behind me. "Mother was worried. A snow storm was on the way, so she sent me out to look for your dumb ass. There is only one place you do. The pathetic hollow tree. There was blood inside, and this." He tossed me a crudely craved piece of wood. I caught it, and he saw my bandaged hand. "That explains the blood." He said, and continued his story. "I saw many foot prints, plus the dumb shit's paw prints in the snow, so I just followed them to this house. And lo and behold you're holed up here with some District piece of ass."

I grit me teeth, then realize there is a safe way out of this. My anger melts away, and I put on a self-satisfied grin. "Of course brother." I put my arm behind me, and around Aria's shoulders, dragging her forward. "What better time? When I get home in three days after some of the snow has melted, and mom is asking me where I have been, all I have to say is that I couldn't possibly walk home with so much snow. And I can have this little thing all to myself." I grin wickedly at Adrian. "This one has some spirit."

Adrian looks at Aria, and sees the fear in her eyes, probably making him feel even more gleeful. He punched my shoulder. "Well, I'm sure we'd be fulfilling all her wild fantasies, if I joined." I forced out a laugh. "Oh no, brother. You forget when I walked in on you, out in the little cabin behind our house. I left you to your devices, so come on, return the favor." Adrian's grin turns into something more evil, something vindictive. "Fine." He hisses. "But next time you go gallivanting off, you better take me." He quickly leans forward into Aria's face. "You'd like that wouldn't you?" He cackles, and walks back towards my mare. "Ride her easy." I yell at him, worried for my horse. "Right back at you...or not." He throws over his shoulder, and is gone in a whirl of snow.

I shut the door with a slam, and walk back towards the abandoned food. I refuse to look at Aria. I feel guilty for subjecting her to that.

ooc: I'll add the colors later.

[Deleted]

I want to be angry. I want to be completely enraged as Julian loops an arm around my shoulder, giving me a subtle squeeze that I guess is him telling me to play along. I don't want to play along at all. He's standing here confirming to his brother that we've done something that could spell damnation for my entire family. One word from Adrian to his parents, and our lives are over. I want so badly to be angry, to shrug off Julian's arm and explain the whole situation the way it really happened. What is he playing at, pretending I'm some booty call that was the sole reason he left his house? Doesn't he know how badly this will affect my family? Yes, I want to be angry, but the only emotion I can pull from the depths of my consciousness is pure terror, and I am rooted to the ground, my eyes fixed fearfully on Adrian.

"Fine, but next time you go gallivanting off, you better take me."

[/i][/color] Julian's twin hisses peevishly, before turning to smile at me in a scary, predatory way. "You'd like that, wouldn't you?"[/i][/color] As he says this, he grabs my chin delicately, giving me a quick once-over and getting that hungry smirk on his face again. The chill from his hand seems to freeze everything in my body, my mind, my muscles, the very air in my lungs. All I am aware of now is my fear and the revulsion pulsing through my being at being touched by Adrian Scott, who is the most terrifying thing I've ever encountered. Adrian Scott, who clearly abuses animals for entertainment, who apparently has his share of hookups with District girls like me and who has some sort of strange hold over his brother that would force him to lie about the reasons he leaves the house. Adrian, who I am certain now is poison, pure poison. Even when his hand leaves my face, my skin crawls.

"Ride her easy," Julian calls warningly at his brother's turned back, glancing with worry at the sleek black mare tethered to my fencepost.

"Right back at you... or not."[/b][/color]

The door slams shut.

The vulgarity of Adrian's parting words coupled with his absence from the room jolts me out of my terrified paralysis. The anger I had wished so desperately for moments ago hits me full force, and for a moment I literally see red. I stomp across the room to Julian, too consumed with anger to even speak. Under normal circumstances, I'd sucker-punch him, right in the stomach. But right now, I am so embarrassed, so vulnerable, so utterly and unusally feminine, that punching him just doesn’t seem right. I just stand there for a while, staring at him. I know I look hurt and weak, because frankly, I am, but I can’t bring myself to care. Distantly, I note the tears stinging my eyes, falling in warm, silent trails down my cheeks. I’m humiliated, degraded to know that anyone, even a creep like Adrian Scott who doesn’t even matter in the grand scheme of things, thinks that I’m that type of girl. A whore. A floozie. A slut. Some District plaything for Julian to do with as he sees fit. My reputation has been completely and blatantly slandered, even if it was only to one person. Not to mention what will happen to my family if Adrian reports his findings to the higher-ups in the Scott family. And this is all Julian’s fault. Julian refusing to tell the truth. Julian not telling me what was going on. Julian getting wounded out in the damn snowstorm in the first place. I tell myself all these things, and yet I still can’t bring myself to beat the shit out of him. Instead, I take the cliché, television drama expression of anger. I slap him. Hard. And then the words come.

“What the fuck was that!?” I screech shrilly, rage coming out of me in almost visible waves. “How could you!? How could you even imply to your brother that I… that you… that we…”

I’m so worked up that words fail me again, and I sputter into an enraged silence for a few seconds. If looks could kill, I know for a fact that Julian would be very dead, I’m glaring at him so hard. In my muteness, I find a strange sort of gravity. I latch onto it, allowing myself to simmer down until I’m coherent enough to communicate my thoughts intelligently. A crushing weight settles itself on my shoulders and I sink down onto the nearest seating surface, the smooth wooden bench in front of my piano, cradling my head between shaky hands.

”Do you even have any idea what you just did?” I ask, my voice now numb and dead, eyes fixed on the grain of the wooden floor. ”If Adrian tells your parents about what you said, about what he thinks happened here, it’s all over for me and my family, Julian. My father’s the foreman of a lumber sector that does direct business with your father’s mill. It’s my family’s main source of income. If your father thinks that you and I are having… inappropriate relations, he’ll stop buying from my dad’s sector, and we’ll all starve. Me, my brother, his wife, their three-month-old baby, we all depend on your dad’s business to live. What’s going to happen if your brother goes home and runs his mouth, which he will? We’re all done for.”

I force myself to raise my head and look at him, hoping it will really kill him to look into the eyes of a girl whose life he’s just destroyed. As soon as the thought hits me, I feel guilty. Julian couldn’t have known. He wouldn’t have made a conscious effort to ruin my life, not after I saved him. Ruining people’s lives is the type of thing Adrian gets a kick out of, not Julian, who I’ve come to realize in the short time I’ve known him is actually a pretty gentle soul. I glance at the impressive red handprint on his cheek and give a halfhearted attempt at a regretful smile. ”You couldn’t have known all that, though. I guess it’s not really your fault,” I say quietly, forcing myself to stand. Still feeling heavy, so heavy from the lead-like realization that everything I know is getting ready to collapse, I raise my arm up, molding my hand to fit over its red reflection on Julian’s pale skin. The guilt hits me again with more strength as I feel his pulse beating under the welt against my hand, heat radiating off the flesh and into my cold fingers. His cheek’s going to bruise for sure. ”’This one has some spirit,’ does she?”[/color][/size][/blockquote]

[Eastern Orange]

I saw the slap coming, but I made no move to stop her, and let her hit me. I tenderly touch my hand to my cheek, as she goes and deflates on the piano bench. I deserve this, I know, and I plan to let her take out all her anger, without any interference from. But as I listen quietly to her little monologue my own temper raise, until I'm clenching my teeth, and my hands are tight fists, like I'm about to punch something.

What makes me snap, is that she is touching me again. I like my space, and she is always invading it. I grip her wrist and yank it down. "Don't you dare pretend you know anything about my family." I say, deadly quiet. "First of all, Adrian won't tell anyone of this, and second of all," I grip her wrist harder. "My father doesn't give a flying fuck about who I am supposedly having sex with. In fact, he doesn't give a flying fuck about me. Adrian will be lucky if he even sees my father and even luckier if he has the honor of speaking to his royal highness." I snarl, my voice getting louder and louder with each passing word. "I don't know who your father is, but my father is a fat coward who shows up only every once in awhile smelling of booze and whores." I throw her hand away from me with disgust, and turn my back on her. I was extremely pissed, dangerously so.

I run my hands through my hair, and clutch my head. I'm breathing heavily, and there is something wrong with my vision. I don't get this angry often, but when I do, it gets ugly. I'm not only mad at Aria. It's a mix of her, my poor horse, Adrian, and a majority of it is my craptastic father. "Don't talk to me about my fucked up family. Don't think for second that you know me. And don't be so arrogant to think that you and your family are important enough to be noticed by my father." I wasn't insulting her with that last one. I wasn't even important enough for my father to notice me.

All I can think is that it is quite likely that I'll be stuck here for days. I bend down and pick up my half whittled block of wood, from where I dropped it when she slapped me. I take out my knife, go sit in the corner that Czar had abandoned in favor of hiding under the table, and started whittling, the only thing that is liable to calm my hatred. It was going to be a fucking eternity...if we didn't kill each other first.

[Deleted]

Everything about Julian's tirade hurts, from the painfully tight grip he has on my wrist to the stinging words that come past his lips in a deadly hiss. For the first time in history, someone has rendered me speechless in an argument. Twice now, if you count the short spat we had in the woods. He's right, of course, absolutely right. I don't know his life. Hell, I barely know him. Who am I to freak out over things I have no idea about? I know deep down that whatever his little act with the implied sex was, it was to protect the both of us. Who knows what Adrian might have been up to? And here I've slapped him and pissed him off for it.

I feel awful. Truly, miserably awful. Julian takes refuge in the corner with his whittling project, and I move absently around the room, on autopilot, cleaning up the remnants of dinner, washing the dishes, opening the back door to let Flint and the black dog out for a potty break. They're extremely quick, as the sky is now indistinguishable from the ground from the furiously blowing snow. Julian and I could be stuck here for a while. I warm up some milk in a saucepan on the stove, pouring it into two bowls for the animals, who lap it up gratefully. I make a point not to look at Julian during any of this. Perhaps we can remain civil if we each forget that the other exists. And just as I remind myself to pretend he's not here, the recent memory slashes white-hot through my mind, the smooth wood of the floor against my back, Julian's frighteningly beautiful eyes locked on my own, lips dangerously close to mine for a few heart-stopping seconds. I know now that forgetting him might not be possible, despite the fact he's an irritating little shit. Sighing heavily, I wash out the saucepan, setting it on the counter to dry and walking across the kitchen, popping open the top of my piano bench. If Julian wants to work on his hobby, then I'm entitled to work on mine.

I shuffle around through the age-yellowed piles of music inside the bench, eventually pulling out a thick anthology of soprano opera arias that's so old and worn that it has to have dated back to way before the Dark Days. This book was passed down through my mother's family for generations, and now it's mine. I flip carefully through the fragile pages, finally coming to rest on an old favorite of mine, the lament from Vivaldi's Bajazet. I prop the book in front of me and slide the lid of the piano back gingerly. Taking a deep breath, I press my fingers down on the ivory keys, coaxing a mournful tune out of the instrument that once belonged to my great-grandmother. One the few-bar introduction ends, I start into the aria.

Sposa son disprezzata
Fida, son oltraggiata,
cieli, che feci mai?

I feel instantly calm as the Italian blooms over my lips, the notes flowing from me cloaked in a smooth vibrato. This is who I am. Not Aria Fowler the outcast, Aria Fowler the potty-mouthed woodcutter who's tough as nails. I am Aria Fowler the opera singer.

E pur egliè il mio cor,
il mio sposo, il mio amor, la mia speranza.

Here, I am in my own world. The music, the piano under my fingers, the voice spinning from my throat, the notes ascending higher, higher, F, G, finally alighting on a high A sharp that sends a jolt of pride up my spine and makes the hair on the back of my neck stand up.

L'amo ma egl'e infedel,
spero ma egl'e crudel,
morir mi lascierai?
Mi lascierai morir?
O Dio manca il valor e la costanza.

By now, Julian is completely gone from my mind. He could be watching, or he could still be focused intently on his piece of wood, but I gleefully find that I don't care either way. This is just what I need. My fingers dance over the fiery final notes of the recitative, then lull back into the gentle cadence of the main aria.

Sposa son disprezzata
Fida, son oltraggiata,
cieli, che feci mai?
E pur egliè il mio cor,
il mio sposo, il mio amor, la mia speranza.

My voice dances back up to the final high note, wavering a bit before dropping out as the last chord of the piano fades to silence. I smile, proud of my two perfect high A sharps, and softly close the lid of the piano. All the inner turmoil from my fight with Julian has dulled. Yes, the pain of the harsh words he had hurled at me is still there, but now it is bearable. I think I may need to apologize, though I doubt he wants to hear it. I'm standing up to walk towards him when my stomach lurches, the taste of copper invading my mouth.

No, no, keep it down, I tell myself, but I know it's too late. My dinner is going to come back up whether I want it to or not. And really, is that a bad thing. I've eaten so many calories today. So much extra fat that I might put on if I don't purge it from my body. I need to get rid of it. I don't want it. I don't want the insults, the fat jokes, the skinny bitches at school making fun of me because I'm built like a football player. I don't want this food that I've eaten. I need to get rid of it.

"I'll be right back," I say quietly to Julian, not that he cares. I'm aware that my voice doesn't sound quite right, sort of shaky and sick. I leave the room quickly, rushing down the hallway to the bathroom and shutting the door securely behind me. I've got this down to a science. Three minutes in the bathroom, start to finish. I reach into the medicine cabinet, setting out a toothbrush, toothpaste, and some mouthwash. Then I grab a hair tie off the sink, quickly pulling my hair back from my face, because I know after two years that cleaning puke out of your hair is no fun. I pull a washcloth out of the linen closet, soak it in cold water from the sink, and leave it there for when I'm done. Preparations over, I sink shakily to my knees in front of the toilet. Unfortunately, my urge to be sick has passed by now. Regretfully, I think that I might have been able to hold down lunch physically, if my mind hadn't interfered.

It's not like you need it, fatass.

The little voice of my self-image hisses at me from inside my mind, and that's all it takes. The urge to puke comes back full force, and I'm leaning over the porcelain bowl, losing every bit of food in my stomach. Even after over two years of this, I still cry when I throw up, partly because it's a reflex, partly because puking never stops being disgusting, and partly because it reminds me how sick I am mentally and physically. How bulima nervosa rules my life, I can't do anything about it. So here I am, crying and puking and generally drowning in my own self pity.

I don't even hear the door open behind me.

[/blockquote]

[Eastern Orange]

The music and my whittling had a calming effect on me. My anger melted away, and I was left with a feeling of defeat. Her voice was beautiful, and I found myself just staring off into space, whittling forgotten, just getting lost in it. I can't understand her, but I recognize the language as Italian, remembering some lessons from dusty old books my mother used in our lessons.

I'm shocked out of the tranquility that I had settled into, when the music stops, and Aria excuses herself from the room.

I like to think I'm pretty good at reading people. So, I knew that something was wrong, and I was worried for her. But with the music gone, I feel some residual anger. I refuse to feel guilty for what I said to her. She was the one that was presumptuous enough to speak about my family. But, dammit! Damn her! I can feel my anger falling to the wayside, and guilt and worry taking it's place.

I fucking hate people, especially her. Making me feel things I don't want to feel! What gives her the right!?

I heave myself up, throwing my block of wood and knife down. I trudge grudgingly down the long hall way, that ends in the bathroom. I stop on the other side of the door, hand half raised to push it open. I just stand there. What I am supposed to do? Just barge in on her while she is on the toilet like some old pervert? I'm about to turn away when I hear retching, followed by a whimper. I turn back around, and throw up then door.

I regret it immediately. It was stupid of me. I stare at her as she has her head halfway into the toilet bowl, and it takes me a second to connect the dots. Her emaciated figure, even with the abundance of food, makes sense now. Does she have some disease where her stomach just can't handle food? Was that it? I was just yelling at her a few minutes ago for essentially not minding her own buisness, and her I was just walking in her in the middle of a private matter.

I feel pity well up inside me, but I try to push it down. There was no way I was going to let her see that I pity her. How demeaning would that be? And she doesn't need that right now.

I stand awkwardly in the door way, wondering how I can help, if I can help.

ooc: The thought that someone would throw up because they thought themselves fat would never cross his mind. D: Stupid effortlessly beautiful boy.

[Deleted]

My stomach keeps heaving for a while, even though there is nothing left by now. I clutch at my midsection, sputtering pathetically until the contractions of my abdominal muscles finally cease. Panting heavily, I reach up a shaky hand and pull down the flush lever, watching the remnants of my dinner swirl into oblivion. My other hand finds its way to the sink, yanking down the wet washcloth, which I press to my overheated face.I wipe the filth and tears off of my freckled cheeks before pulling myself to my feet, turning around to grab my toothbrush. The look on my face must be priceless when I see Julian Scott standing in the open doorway of my bathroom, storm-grey eyes wide with shock and confusion. So he's seen it.

Julian's eyes flicker back and forth between me, the toilet, and my already-prepared post-puke ritual on the counter. He's smart enough to make the connection. Figures, the first person to find out about my problem is someone who completely hates me. I sigh, running a hand through my hair as I pick up my toothbrush. "I guess the cat's out of the bag, then."

I find myself strangely calm as I pick up my toothbrush, dousing it in minty paste and purging my mouth of the acidic taste of vomit. Shouldn't I be freaking out right about now? Someone knows. Julian knows. I spit the toothpaste out, chasing it with a good-sized serving of mouthwash and watching the foamy greens and aquas of my oral hygiene regimen swirl down the drain. As much as I should be panicking, I find myself strangely calm. After all, there's nothing I can do about it. Julian knows about it now, there's nothing I can do to change that. I stack all of my supplies neatly back in the medicine cabinet, closing the mirrored door gently. I throw a nonchalant glance at Julian in the mirror. "I suppose it would be asking too much to request that you not tell my family about this when they get back. I don't really want them blowing their salaries sending me to a shrink."

I gently remove the hair band, letting the golden locks fall back over my shoulders. Grabbing a hairbrush, I comb through the blonde strands until they lay sleek and soft down my back. Julian's still standing there, just looking at me, still so confused. "I'm not asking you to feel sorry for me or anything," I say softly, replacing the brush in its drawer under the sink. "It's actually kind of a relief to have someone know about it."

The more I think about this statement, the truer it seems. I feel like a huge weight has been lifted off of me. Someone knows, but my secret just might be safe from my family. After all, what does Julian have to gain from ratting me out? Absolutely nothing. Plus, if he stops hating me, I'll have someone to talk about it with, which will definitely help my mental stability. If he stops hating me. Which frankly isn't likely. I wonder for a moment what Julian's world must be like, having a father who never noticed you. My dad's my best friend, so I have no idea what Julian has gone through in that respect. Upon further reflection, I realize that the only thing I know about Julian is that he has a horrible father and a seriously scary twin brother who apparently wants my bod. And here he knows about my home life, my family, my passion for music, my love of animals, and now, my condition. Our knowledge of each other is significantly unbalanced. I usually don't talk to people enough for them to really know me, but there's something about Julian that makes it a bit easier for me to let everything come pouring out - tears, smiles, laughter - things I haven't let the world see for a long time.

"Yeah, bulimia's pretty awful, but you get used to it, especially after you find out you can't stop even if you want to."

I realize with a little gasp that it's the first time the word has ever passed my lips. Bulimia. Everything about it seems so much more real now that I've actually said it. It's no longer just something I deal with on a day to day basis, eat and puke, eat and puke. I have a mental condition. I have an eating disorder. And I have confessed it to someone I barely know. The freakout starts building now, starting somewhere deep in my chest and building to a scream that catches in my throat, that I refuse to let escape. I finally allow myself to think of the morbid realization that's been eating at me for months now, ever since I picked up the encyclopedia in the library. I am going to die.

I have an eating disorder, I am not going to seek treatment, and it is going to kill me. The lining of my esophagus will corrode from stomach acid, marring my prized soprano voice. I will be unable to keep down any food, it will be a physical impossibility. I will become dehydrated after my body stops letting me ingest liquids. The lack of nutrients will send me into malnutrition. My blood will thicken from lack of water and oxygen produced by chemical reactions from my digestive system. My heart will start working overtime. It will give up eventually. And I will die.

I swallow the panic, my heart pounding in my chest, its remaining beats already numbered. By my research on the subject, I know that if things keep going at this rate, I have about three months. I am a victim of what doctors call advanced bulimia nervosa. MY body is so accustomed to rejecting food by now that I couldn't stop throwing up even if I wanted to, which I don't. There is nothing that can be done to help me that does not require treatment and a long stay in the hospital, both of which are things that I will not allow my family to pay for. So I swallow my fear for now, telling myself to accept it. There is nothing I can do.

I glance behind Julian, out of the small window in the hallway behind him, the snow still swirls furiously outside, but it is now against a backdrop of velvety black. A quick check of the clock on the wall shows me that it is almost ten o'clock. Well, at least there's a simple way out of this awkward moment. I tell myself. Much less awkward than lying on the floor with Julian Scott on top of you. I push past him, flicking off the bathroom light. "I'm going to bed, I'm tired. We don't have central heat, so my room is warmest since it's closest to the kitchen fireplace. I'll take the floor, you can have the bed." While my bed is large and could comfortably accommodate the both of us, I have a feeling that Julian has no desire to be closer to me than he has to. I would say the feeling is mutual, but my head is so mixed up right now I don't even know what I feel.

[/blockquote]

[Eastern Orange]

I cocked my head to the side perplexed. "Your parents don't know?" I didn't really think it would be that big of a deal. I mean it's not like you can can help something, if you're born with it. What had she called it? Bulimia? I make a mental note to look it up later.

I followed her to her room. I started shaking my head as soon as she mentioned me taking the bed. "Look, I may be snarky, or whatever you called me, but I'm not some pig." I make a disgusted look. "It's your bed." I sit on the floor, emphasizing my point.

By then my anger was gone. I looked down at my naked torso, and back at Aria. "And I know how devilishly handsome I look without a shirt on, but for the sake of not freezing to death please can you get me another one." I grin at her. Geez, our relationship is night and fucking day. I was just yelling at her a while ago, and so mad that I couldn't see straight, and now I'm teasing her again.

Czar appeared in the room, carrying the scraps of a shirt in his mouth. He spun in a circle once, then flopped down next to Julian, leaning his back on me.

[Deleted]

I know that it must seem pretentious, but I can't help looking at Julian like he's a complete moron. "Of course my parents don't know. That'd be an interesting conversation. Why on earth would you think I'd tell them something like that?"

The look on his face is one of utter confusion, and I can't understand why. Has Julian never met anyone with an eating disorder? I figured with him being filthy rich and all, he'd have at least heard of some whippet-thin little debutante that starved herself into oblivion, but I guess not. I continue looking at his puzzled expression, and then I realize why he's so confused. His question replays in my mind, "Don't your parents know?" Julian thinks that this is something you're born with, like some of the little kids around the district who were born with muscular dystrophy, or cystic fibrosis. For some terrible, morbid reason, Julian's innocent ignorance makes me chuckle wryly, bringing my hand up to pinch the bridge of my nose between two fingers.

"I'm not sure you understand exactly what my problem is," I say, pulling a sweatshirt out of my closet and grabbing a dog-eared encyclopedia from my bookshelf. I toss Julian the shirt, bringing up my free hand to leaf through the pages until I find the entry entitled Bulimia nervosa. I set the book gently down in front of Julian. "Here. I'm sure you'll find it fascinating."

Leaving Julian to put on the shirt and read, I cross back over to my closet, yanking out the pair of boxers and tank top that I use as pajamas. I leave the room quietly, walking to the bathroom to change. Picking up my hairband from the sink, I pull my hair up into a ponytail before grabbing a fresh washcloth, soaking it in cold water and pressing it to my face. The frigid cloth does a little bit to help the raging tension headache that is building in my left temple, and I think of how Julian is probably reading right now about how victims of advanced bulimia experience debilitating headaches during the last months of their lives as a result of their bodies getting only trace amounts of the nutrients they need to function. I sigh, my breath a little shaky from the pain stabbing through my head, wonder whether I should have told him. He has no right to know, after all, and he'll probably tell my parents when they get back just to spite me. Oh well, I think, it's too late to take it back.

I fling the damp washcloth irritably into the laundry hamper, flicking off the bathroom light and padding back down the hallway to my room. When I walk through the door, the first thing I notice is Julian staring blankly at the pages of the encyclopedia I left him. Trying to ignore him, I throw back the thick comforter of my bed, crawling down between the warm blankets. I scrunch my eyes shut, trying in vain for a few minutes to sleep. When I open my eyes again, Julian is still in the same position, stormy gray eyes fixated on the book in the dim light of the lamp on my bedside table. Even though it is warm here in my nest of thick blankets, my face is already uncomfortably cold. I think about how Julian must be absolutely freezing on the hard wooden floor with only a spare quilt, and my sympathy kicks in against my will. Groaning in annoyance, I throw back my comforter, scooting over to make extra room on the mattress. "Come on, then. I've already saved you from freezing to death once, I guess I can do it again."

[/b][/size][/blockquote][/color]

[Eastern Orange]

I tug on the sweater, and take the book with interest as she leaves the room. At first, I'm eager, but with each passage my heart sinks, and I don't want to read it anymore. But I do. I read it all the way to the last paragraph that describes the way her body will eat itself, and she will die. I wonder how long she has been doing this. How long she has left.

She comes back into the room, and I shut the book with a snap. I watch as she snuggles down into her blankets. I was about to settle down on the floor when she offered a spot with her on the bed. She scooted over, and Czar immediately jumped up and laid down in the spot. I look at her with a mix of horror and disbelief. I'm sure it was a very comical expression.

It's better then the floor. I walk over to the bed, and push the dog over, so I can just squeeze in. I'm on the extreme edge of the bed, on my side, taking up as little space as possible, while being a far as possible from Aria. My back was to her.

"Hey, Aria?" I say quietly after a few minutes. "You don't have to die." I feel awkward for talking about this, and I'm glad that I have Czar between me and her.

[/blockquote]
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[Deleted]

The warmth that Julian and his dog add is noticeable within seconds, the bed now downright toasty. Flint, who has been hiding in my closet, jumps up to join us and curls up next to my head on the pillow. For a few minutes, we are all silent, the only sounds in the room our breathing, the distant crackle of the dying fire in the kitchen, and the mournful howl of the blizzard winds outside. My eyelids start getting heavy and I feel as if I am sinking into the mattress, sleep closing in on me.

"Hey, Aria?"

[/b][/color]

It is the first time he's ever said my name, I realize. The word sounds so different coming from him as opposed to anyone else I've ever heard say it. From his mouth, Aria sounds a little more like what it really is, a simple song, something of beauty, not just... not just me. Julian's voice is softer than usual, contemplative. I open my eyes and turn over to acknowledge him, but find myself staring at the back of his head. He seems to be just lying there, staring at the wall. I wonder if he's gotten cold again, spiraling back into his earlier hypothermia systems. Telling myself that this is ridiculous since he's currently in a very warm bed, I settle on the fact that he must be talking in his sleep. But the rise and fall of Julian's chest doesn't match the breathing of someone who's asleep. I'm about to open my mouth to ask him what's wrong when he speaks again. "You don't have to die."

For only five words, they have a massive effect. In one instant, I experience a dizzying wave of fear, sadness, guilt, and hopelessness. He's wrong, so wrong. Of course I have to die. I'm beyond saving. I can't let my family fork out the money it would take to provide me with the medical help I need to stand a shot at survival. I'm not worth it, not at all. I'm not worth the money that could be used to get medicine for little Stella, who is so sick right now that my parents must stay by her bedside along with my brother and his wife. My family needs their money more than I need my life. Besides, even if I were to be admitted into a treatment facility right now, my chances still wouldn't be great. Even if I could control the impulses of my mind, my body would still purge itself of food regardless of what I wanted it to do. Even if I could be saved, I'm not so sure I want to be.

I live in a miserable existence, all of us in the Districts do. I wake up every day, go to school to be indoctrinated by the Capitol, leave school to go work for the Capitol, run a risk every year of dying for the Capitol. At least now if I die, I will die for myself. If I were to go on living, I would be nothing but a slave for the rest of my life. And really, who would miss me? My parents? They've got Liam and his wife and their new granddaughter. They would be hurt for a while, but they'd move on. My friends? I have no friends. Flint? He'd miss me, but he'd be all right if there was someone to feed him and look after him. Julian? "You don't have to die."

I prop myself up on one elbow, looking intensely at him, wishing I could look into his eyes instead of at the tuft of dark hair that is visible beyond the hulking mass of the black dog between us. Why would he say something like that? Again, I realize just how little I know about Julian Scott. I know that his family life isn't the greatest, and I know that I sure as hell have no idea what goes on in his head. It seems that one minute the two of us will be at each others' throats and the next we'll be laughing together like old pals. And now here he is, talking about my choices when I very clearly don't have any. Yes, it is very difficult for me to understand the cruelly beautiful boy from the woods. But this statement, this one irrevokable statement he has made takes my misunderstanding of Julian to a whole new level. And before I can stop myself, the question is leaving my lips, soft and simple and sincere. "Would you care if I did?"[/blockquote][/size][/color][/color]