worth a thousand words {kel and eos}

[maverick hale 🌧️ d5 [nyte]]

E O S

I waited a long while for my punishment. The kindly woman, Eva, had led me to a room, one only a few doors away from where Kelsier had disappeared An Avox's job is to obey and so I only nodded and smiled. Dressed in clothes that were not mine and retreating into a room I did not own, I sunk to the floor. And I had waited for word of what they would do. They could have hit me, the thought always sat somewhere at the back of my mind. Even though Kelsier's resistance to touch anything I owned had been made blatantly obvious, a part of me was sure I'd never be free of the pain. A part of me thought that I deserved it for upsetting him. They could have locked me in the room and kept me away from the sun and food and water. Pretended I didn't exist until enough time had passed and they deemed I had learned my lesson. I waited for a punishment that never came.

It seemed too good to be true. Like I was stuck in a dream that had pulled me so deep I couldn't wake. I pinched my skin to the point of bruising and forced cold water down my back but nothing worked. I slept upon the floor that night because that is what I deserved and when I woke the next morning I did not find myself back at The Bastard's house or even the traders'. I was in a large mansion with cavernous walls that was much too big for the cold man it housed. It was two days before I believed that I truly was awake.

They didn't keep my meals from me or deny water when I was desperately thirsty. I even got my own clothes and was treated with kindness for the first time in a long while. I had my own room, they didn't lock me out in the dead of night where wind blew and bugs bit. It was the first house that ever seemed something like a home and it terrifies me.

I can't get too attached, I can't make this place my home because chances are I'll be thrown out by the end of the year. I'm not a good avox, I cannot clean or cook or really do much of anything that Kelsier and Eva don't already have covered. I'm useless, the worst kind of useless. The sooner they realize it, the better for all of us.

But I really did like it here. It was something special to fall asleep, knowing that another was only a few rooms away. Someone who I was certain wouldn't hurt me, someone who made me feel safe. Almost like when I awoke from a bad dream as a child, when I'd crawled into mother's bed and wrapped my arms around her waist and she didn't ask why I was there because she knew. I've not had such comfort for a very long time.

He's an author. A great one, I think. Sometimes I can hear the typewriter's monotone clicks and I will just sit and listen to the music it creates. I can't bring myself to ask what he writes, I've been scared to ask much since my first day. When he'd gone so cold and hid away, and I was left all alone for too long. His company is better than the silence I've been used to, even if we say nothing.

I've been keeping myself busy these past weeks. There was a garden outside, one that had decayed and rotted and wielded to the elements throughout years of neglect. And I remembered the flowers on my windowsill that'd done the same once mother could not care for them. I made it my mission to right the wrong of so long ago. Carefully, I protected my body. I forced gloves onto my hands and kept the clothes I worked in outside and I always showered after hours of working in the garden. I tried my hardest to be safe.

I pulled the weeds and fed the buds, I did all I could to breathe life into what was dead. It made me feel better, to do something, to work because that was all I'd known for a long time. It made me feel better to see the yellowing roots turn green and it made me happy to see sprouts forcing their way through the freshly tilled dirt.

How proud I was.

This morning, I wake up early to check the garden. It looks nothing special, small green leaves poking contrasting against dirt. There were no colorful petals soaking in the sun's rays, nor any weeds stealing their glory. It was humble and quaint, but magical. I had done this. It was perhaps the only thing I've ever truly owned.

I hadn't seen it at first, but it catches my eye just as I turn away. A small yellow poppy forcing its way through the ground. A tiny warrior. The first flower of many to come. And I smile from ear to ear because it is just so beautiful. It looks bright and happy, petals curved into the sun's embrace. My excitement cannot be contained as I slip through the door, stepping carefully on the stones I had washed. Two fingers wrap around the stem and it leaves the ground in one, clean snap.

My hands are washed and my hair brushed by the time I find Kel. And it's all I can to keep from bursting out with happy laughter as I rush over to him with child-like excitement. The smile I had seen all those days ago was far too rare, I'd not seen it enough in my time here. It lit up the whole of the room and it made me want to smile too. A smile like that should be shared with the world.

I'm clean. I've checked three times over, washed my hands with soap and water and washed them once more to be sure. My clothes are just out of the wash and they smell of detergent and soap. I tried so hard to stay clean because if I was, Kel wouldn't be so sad around me. And then maybe he would smile more, like he should.

The flower is concealed behind my back and I feel stupid waving my free hand to get his attention. I've become better, I think, at the language of Avox. Got something! My hands shake with excitement, and as hard as I try to keep my face straight I simply cannot. He had given me so much in these few weeks and I could finally give him something back.

An embarrassed laugh escapes me as I reveal my present, holding it out to him expectantly. It wasn't much, hell it was nothing really, but maybe it'd be enough to make him happy.

[gamemaker kelsier]

K E L

CXI

I see him there beyond the pines breaking
his back. With no question as to why as if
it's obvious that he should just.
because of who he is and where
he comes from. (but i have seen them)

I have seen the scars that line his making,
the battle worn pieces of canvas he calls his hide and
i have wondered what he knows about it, if he knows about it and
that he is beautiful for it because

suffering and misery and trials can
kill us all given time and immensity but he
has the body of a soldier and the smile of
an innocent.

my skin carries no blemish and shows no use but
my mind is a mine field, a war zone for
the insane and my sanity clashes against the
backbone of my skull

i have the smile of a wolf.

-K.V.D.

I haven't done much in the weeks since Eos arrived but sit in my room and write. I've thrown out over half of the things I've written, none of the pieces quite right but it's still better than being completely blocked. It feels good to be writing again, to feel my fingers fly across the typewriter and know that even if it's complete drivel at least something is emerging. Even the stupid poetry. I didn't realize I was such a horny little shit but at least it's poetry. Romantic poetry is not something I've ever claimed to be involved with but I know that a lot of the people who read my stuff are swooning dorks. Like me. I'm a swooning dork.

He keeps going out into the garden. Which I'm glad about I guess.

He spent the first couple of days in his room, and no matter how hard I listened or how often I opened my own door to look down the hall, I never saw the latch move up or down even once. I didn't disturb him, thinking it must be a lot for him. I couldn't imagine being taken away from my family, I don't know how long ago he was taken but it wasn't fresh at least. It's obvious by the scars on his back. They're not new. At least some of them aren't. Some of them were pretty fresh looking.

Eva, for her part has always ignored shut doors as if they don't apply to her. I guess they don't. When his clothing that she'd ordered arrived, she went bustling into his room with a big box of it and made him try on every single piece in case she had to return some items. I watched the shut door for a while, wishing I knew what Eva was saying but being unable to hear hands it was their own little conversation. I returned to my room before she left his that day and I wrote until I couldn't feel my fingers anymore. I couldn't stop thinking about his skin.

I don't understand how someone could treat a real life, breathing human being like that. In my novel, a lot of stuff happens to Elend in his long life and people did unspeakable things to his friend Simon too, but that stuff never felt real when I wrote it. When I wrote about the things they went through it was fantasy. I never believed that stuff like that actually happened. Seeing Eos' ruined skin got me thinking. Now I don't want to write about anything else.

I watch sometimes from the living room window as he works in the garden, bent over, in the dirt, immersed in it. It makes my stomach churn. His happiest time is my worst nightmare. It only furthers the gap between us as individuals. He took the crumbling ruin of decayed lives and rejuvenated them. Eva's pleased about it. She's always spoken about how her garden used to be, how she only ever used to use fresh vegetables from it for her cooking. It's been tough for her over the past two years as her arthritis has gotten worse. It's nice to see her looking so pleased about the garden that she'd loved so much. I'm thankful to Eos for that.

I don't know how to communicate that at all. It's difficult to come up with the right words and I'm so high strung right now because of it. After such a long time with nobody else in the house, I'm hyper-aware of his presence. Dinners have been weird. When it was just Eva and I, there was enough space for the two of us to sit at the small table in the kitchen. Now with the three of us we have to use the dining hall. I like to watch him eat. Not because I'm morbidly fascinated with those that are tongue-deficient or anything. He just looks continuously with each new dish that Eva places in front of us, like he's expecting us to starve him or something. Judging by the state of his body when he got here, I'm sure that whoever 'owned' him before did just that.

I'm waiting for him to realize that I'm not really like that at all, but I understand that trust is not an easy thing. I know it very well. For both of our sake, I'm working hard to trust him. He works hard for it too. He never approaches me directly after going outside to garden for example, He always makes sure he's clean, that his clothing is clean. I didn't have to explain these things to him either, he just did it on his own. It makes me happy. I've never met anyone who tried so hard to make sure that I was comfortable with them. It makes me really happy.

Today I am sitting in the library, a book about various types of blades open on my lap; research for the second novel in the series I am writing. I'm only half focused on it, the other half of my mind busy with trying it ignore the amount of dust on the windowsill. The book half is losing and I'm just about to get up and find a cloth to wipe it down with when Eos comes hurrying into the room, an enormous grin on his face, seemingly extremely pleased with himself.

Curiosity hits me as he signs at me. Got - Something - he says with one hand, the other concealed behind his back. I don't know what to expect. I'm afraid as I smile uncertainly. He laughs then, and it doesn't sound like the tongueless bark that Eva often does when she thinks I'm being silly. It's the laugh of a boy who is excited and despite myself it ignites something within me.

He pulls his hand out from behind his back and I freeze for a moment. A little yellow flower- a poppy. He holds it carefully between two fingers and it is a sweet, small thing. The first life to be found in his garden no doubt. My heart speeds up as he extends his arm closer to me- I am meant to take it. A little plant that could be carrying a world of germs on it.

I shut the book in my lap to buy time and reach out carefully, hands shaking in the smallest of ways as I force myself to grip the stem of the flower carefully between my pointer finger and my thumb. I almost shout at the feeling of it in my hand. I can imagine hundreds of tiny germs crawling off of that stem and onto my skin. I think of the hundreds of little bugs that must call the seemingly harmless poppy their home. I want to drop it in that instant and stamp it into the ground.

I don't.

I smile, trying not to show the way I'm gritting my teeth, trying to keep my heart from bursting out of my chest as the old fear grips me. Panic makes my heartbeat louder in my ears and I take a deep breath to steady myself.

"Thank-you, Eos," I say, vice coming out calmer than I would have thought. "It's beautiful, I love it." I turn my eyes away from the plant to smile up at him as well, as if to get it across more firmly. "What you're doing with the garden, it's really wonderful."

I think I'm going to throw up on his shoes.

[maverick hale 🌧️ d5 [nyte]]

E O S

I tilt my head to the side, ever so slightly, as I watch him take the flower. He smiles and he thanks me and he even says my name and it's enough to bring joyful tears to my eyes. I've had many names branded into my skin, none of which were my own. Axox, Scum, Bitch, Ugly. I'd had so many foul things spat at me that even hearing Kelsier speak my name brings a kind of stupid pride with it. I hadn't noticed the intense heat crawling up my cheeks and by the time I have, it's too late. The back of my hand brushes against my face gently, trying to wipe the blush away to no avail. My smile has faded to a kind of half grin and my eyes are searching the area around his feet.

"What you're doing with the garden, it's really wonderful."

I'm shaking my head before he's even finished the sentence. My teeth grind against my lip and I search for words that have abandoned me. He had complimented me on a job, on something that I had to do. I was a slave, and it'd do me good to remember that. How dare he be so kind and how dare he make me like him. The more attached I became to Kelsier, the harder it'd be for me. I had to see him as a boss, someone to obey and not a friend. I haven't had a friend in a very long time, but I imagine the growing affection I feel for the tall, cold man was similar to how one would feel for his friend. A kind of yearning for closeness and a wanting to make them happy. Avoxes cannot have friends.

My eyes search the empty space for words I cannot find. (I did not need a compliment, I just wanted to make you smile.) (Please do not do that!) (Stop!)

I- just- like- smile. Nice- smile. Do- more.

And I stumble over my words even when I speak with my hands. The words probably made no sense to him, and if they did he would probably dislike them. I had probably said the wrong thing or I had given the wrong impression or-

I shake my hands in frustration, cheeks feeling like they could fry an egg and feeling frozen all at once.

I- mean- thank- you. Being- kind.

(Thanks for not beating me. Thank you for letting my wounds heal. Thank you for giving me a room and for keeping me safe. Thank you for giving me all the things I took for granted. Thank you.)

Even when i'd had a tongue, it was a clumsy one. It tripped over itself and didn't like when I spoke to someone who made me feel nervous. It revolted and didn't release the words in the right order. It was a spiteful tongue that caused many an awkward situation. My hands seem to speak in a similar way. I'm frustrated because I just want him to understand. That he was the first person to ever be genuinely kind to me without any chance of personal gain. He seemed frightened of me and my contaminants but he still let me in his house.

I'm clean. I've tried very, very hard to make sure of that. I didn't let any dirt touch my skin in the garden and I used soap and water. I'm clean, I know I am. I'm sure I am.

My heart has stopped beating and my chest is screaming. One moment becomes an eternity as I steal myself. I don't think I'll ever forget how afraid he was of me and how he ran away. But I cannot thank him properly, not how things are now. I don't want compliments or thank-yous or anything but for him to know that I was grateful. And I don't know how to say that.

It's gentle. My fingers grasp the hem of his shirt lightly and I smile. I've never been good with words and Ma said it was because I was a physical person. I didn't remember someone because of their voice or their face, I didn't remember them because of their words. I remembered their touch and what their hands felt like, I remembered what it was like to wrap my arms around them or how their hair felt smooth and soft or thick and coarse.

My breath shakes as it leaves me and I blink a few times before searching for Kelsier's eyes. I give a weak smile and I nod and I'm trying hard to make him understand how much everything means and just how grateful I am. And I can't thank him properly and I'll never be able to but I want him to know because it matters. I've been so scared to touch him and I still am. The hem is released quickly and I look at my shoes with new fascination.

I can almost see my confidence sink into the carpet below me and I wonder if I'll have to clean that too.

[gamemaker kelsier]

K E L

CXII

i have conquered
emotions and love with the cruelty
the coldness of a desert in the night and
ignored those that came before with the
might of a lofty king

but

all it took was a flower to
make me this unmade
thing.

-K.V.D.

I haven't held onto anything so fragile in what feels like eons. I can barely remember the last time I had a flower in these hands, barely remember the last time I held anything that hadn't been decontaminated first and yet all I can do is wonder if it is going to be the thing that kills me. I cannot look at something and eke out it's value by what it is, only by what it might do to me. There's a difference and I can see it sometimes, I can see the germs in the air around me, I can see them outside, waiting in the air for me to open a window so that they can get in. I cannot remember what it's like to simply hold onto something and fall in love with the simple beauty because all I can see, all I can feel is the death that it will bring.

I steady my arm on the chair's, blinking rapidly to stop panicked tears from forming in my eyes. There's a lump in my throat and I can't swallow it. All I can think about is my mother, coming in the front door, not even wiping her shoes on the mat before leaning down to give me a kiss, her spit getting on my forehead and the feeling of it there and I know, I know, I know that it was out of spite. She was trying to kill me then, I know it.

But this is a gift.

I watch his hands as they work, and hold the flower like I need it just to breath but all I want to do is let go of it. I can't. I can't crush him like my mother crushed me. I've got to be as brave as Simon from my story and I've got to do this, I've got to last.

I don't know why it fucking matters so much, I just met the kid a few weeks ago but it does. It does. I've been alone too long, I guess at this point it could have been anyone and I'm desperate to play nice, to make him want to stay because it's nice with just Eva and I but it's better with him here, it's warmer and the house is less empty and I like it, I like it a lot.

Besides, he trusts me.

I bite my lower lip and pinch the flower stem so hard that if it was a thicker stem it would have broken by now and then I'd have flower juice all over my hands and I'd be screaming and I want to scream enough right now but I don't want to scream. I can't scream. Don't, don't don't, don't. don't do it. Stop being afraid. Just stop. (but I ca-)

I feel it as my shirt is slightly tugged away from my skin and not even Eva is allowed to touch me. No one is allowed to touch me because they're going to kill me. They're going to kill me. They won't mean to but they'll do it. You can't trust people. You can't trust anyone to be safe. No matter what, they'll find a way to hurt you.

I watch his fingers there, dazed, shocked, I don't know what. For half of a split second, I don't want him to let go of the hem of my shirt, but he does it anyway. I can smell his scent because he's close and his hair smells of disinfectant and his clothing smells fresh, his hands are chapped from too much washing and most people wouldn't find this smell appealing but to me it is good. I can't count the amount of times on both fingers that my mother and father would come to speak to me, dirt under their nails and smelling of stale cigarettes and sweat.

I find his eyes at the same time that he finds mine and I hold his gaze for as long as I can, widening my lips into the smile that I know that he's searching for. I want to assure him that I'm happy with the gift but despite my body finding it wonderful, my brain is panicking. He's blurring in front of me as my vision swims. I've got to get out of here. I've got to get the dirt off of me. My skin itches. There's bugs all over me, all over me. They're all over, burrowing under my skin, going to make me sick, they're going to make me sick again and again and again.

I can't do this.

"I'm going to go and put this in water," I say, surprised at how calm I sound, hoping my smile looks as genuine as I want it to as well. I stand, moving the book to the side and stepping around Eos. "I'll see you at dinner Eos." I know better than to thank him again. It seems that doesn't work. Gratitude from me can only be expressed through treating him like a human being instead.

I walk steadily out of the room, turning to look over my shoulder at him, offering him another smile before I slip away.

As soon as I have the door shut behind me, I break into a run.

[maverick hale 🌧️ d5 [nyte]]

E O S

I felt warm after he'd taken the flower. My smile simply wouldn't fade as I walked around the cavernous building in a sort of haze. I'd done well, at making him understand I think. All the words I couldn't say finally having made their way into the open air. Thank-you. Two words that were somehow so difficult to get across. But it was oddly quiet for a long while. I'd walked past his room a few times in my aimless wanderings, but I'd heard nothing of the usual. No pleasant clicking of a typewriter or the rustling of papers, just eerie silence.

Eva approached me, and even though I don't know how to speak all that well, I know she's asking me where Kelsier is. I recognize his name among the confusing symbols and I can't focus on anything else because a panic has started to settle over me. (Was something wrong? And more importantly is is my fault?) And she asks me if anything's happened and I tell her the truth, nervous smile across my lips as I remember the beautiful flower I'd given him fondly. He'd liked it, he said he had.

I'd fucked up. I'd fucked up big time. She says we have to find him and my feet are already flying across the floor. I was stupid, I was a fucking idiot because I hadn't thought of it. Flowers were dirty. You couldn't wash a flower, you couldn't spray it with sanitizer. Its petals would wilt and its stem would curl in on itself. Flowers were filled with dirt and therefore couldn't mix with Kel. He'd taken it because I looked so pathetic and he'd taken it because it had meant so much to me. It was my fault.

No one can go into his room. When I press against the handle and it gives to my weight, I don't open it any further. Her's not in there. I'm on to the next door and the next. My ear is against the polished wood and my knuckles wrap tightly around the doorknob and I beg that the next room I look in will be the room that he hides in. (My fault! My fault!) And my heart has left my chest long ago, it's left upon the ground when I'd started the futile search. I feel hollow and empty, the warmth that'd filled me for a few, wonderful moments having dissipated into fear. I didn't know what I'd find on the other side of the door. I'd never seen him break down, not up close. And what would I do once I'd found him? What could I do?

I was truly disgusted with myself.

It takes me far too long to find the door. Eva and I stand outside and I rattle the knob hopelessly. I knock and knock and knock and knock. How I wish I could scream at him to leave and tell him that he was scaring me. (Just stop it! Please stop. Please stop.) I've got no choice.

Sorry. My hands create the clumsy symbol as I turn to Eva.

The old wounds upon my shoulder ache every time I force it into the door. One. Two. Three. I was never exceptionally strong, it was Achilles' job to do the heavy lifting. They used me as bait because I was useless in every other aspect. But I'm sure as hell not going to give up now. It was all my fault.

One. Two. Three.

It didn't budge.

One. Two. Three.

I couldn't do this.

One. Two. Three.

There's a sickening crack of expensive wood splintering as it forces its way past a lock. For a moment, I stand dumbfounded; I simply cannot understand. The flower sits in a glass upon the sink and water runs across hands left raw and red. I try to think and I try to rationalize how this could be anything but my own fault.

I've never asked him why he's so afraid. It's not an Avox's place to wonder. We obey, we do what we must to survive and nobody cares. Nobody cared until I met the man ruining his hands in front of me. I was a person to him when I was a creature to everyone else. Right now, I want my tongue back. I want to scream at him and to finally ask why because right now I need to know. Because I'm terrified and I'm lost and I don't know what to do.

We're not allowed to touch him. In a house as lenient as this it was one of the few rules I was expected to obey. Don't be dirty and don't touch Kel because you're dirty even when you're clean. I try to hard to be a good Avox, I don't want a punishment and more than anything I want to impress the man who's been nothing but kind to me.

I'm not going to stand here. I have to stop this and any punishment they can give me will be worth it.

My arms lock around his waist, all my weight throwing the both of us backwards and away from the wretched water.

I'm not going to let go.

[gamemaker kelsier]

K E L

CXIII

I once thought I was king among men
but now, looking at
him
i understand that i am lowly
I am a slave living in
the halls of the gods

(think of how it must feel
to finally understand
your own worth.)

It is freeing.

-K.V.D.

I reach my room quickly and cross the length of it to the en-suite bathroom, shutting the door tightly behind me, locking it with a quick click. My personal shower is in the corner, head still dripping from the shower I took only a few hours ago. There are fresh towels hanging on the rack and I ignore them, instead grabbing a glass from the cupboard that sits above the sink, hands shaking as I fill it with water and I place the poppy delicately in the glass so that the petals don't touch the water and the flower head rests over the lips of the cup.

I can't stop my hands from shaking.

I reach for the soap and for the pumice stone that I use to remove the dead skin off my feet and fill the sink with steaming hot water, leaving the tap running. I ignore the foaming hand soap and take the extra strength sterile soap that my doctor supplies me with. I pump out a generous amount, lathering my hands quickly, rolling my sleeves back so that I can wash up my arms too. I rub the stone over the skin of my hands and it stings slightly but it's a good kind of sting, the one that tells me that I'm rescuing myself.

Washing my hands is soothing, I can fall into a rhythm, I can pretend that nothing happened today, that I didn't touch anything, that I'm safe. Flowers can kill me. Germs are dangerous. Germs are so dangerous and I'm afraid. My cheeks are warm, wet and I'm crying. Again. I don't know why this happens. My therapist says it's a normal reaction to extreme fear.

I'm aggressive, rubbing the rough stone over my hands and again, washing my hands, drying them, repeating this. I've not been so scared in a long time. Even when Eos came, it was okay as long as he didn't touch me and I waited until he was clean before I removed my mask. I was still worried that I would get sick but I seemed to be okay. I felt a tiny bit weak for a while after his arrival but I was fine. Today I have come in direct physical contact with something from outside, the outside that I have been avoiding for so long.

I get water all over the sink and it upsets me. It's so bad, so dirty looking. I use a cloth to wipe the water up and I get blood on the white towel but I don't know what from because I'm not bleeding but maybe it's the bugs from the flower climbing out of my hands, making holes. Panic grips me again and I get more furious with the pumice stone, dragging it over my skin in an effort to get the bugs out.

Mom always said that germs were like tiny little bugs that got under your skin and made you sick and I'm older now, I know what germs look like but it's so ingrained that I can't help but imagine myself becoming infested with bugs until they're crawling out of my ears and eyes and mouth and I am drowning, drowning, drowning in germs.

I can't see the sink anymore or the mirror because I'm almost screaming in horror and fear makes my skin prickle. I pump out more soap, washing my hands again under a hot, hot jet of water that makes my skin feel like it's burning but it's a good sort of burn, the sort of one that tells you that you're dying in a good way. I'm killing all the bugs. They can't hurt me if they're dead even if they're still in me (no no no get out) then I'll be fine, as long as they can't make me sick.

Doc always says that washing hands is good to prevent germs but not after you've come in contact because then it's too late but it won't keep me from trying even if it is useless. "Even the common cold could kill you if it was a strong enough vein, Kelsier, you can thank your parents for that." I'm crying and snot is coming out of my nose and it's vulgar and disgusting and dirty but I need to wash my hands, I need them to be clean and if my skin is cracking around the nail bed and if my hands are scraped raw and the water makes the red and sore from being so hot then I don't care I just don't want to get sick, not again. I don't want to be sick, I hate it more than anything, I'm afraid, I'm afraid.

I hear a distant knocking but I am numb to it. I've fallen into a rhythm of washing and scraping and bleeding and I can't stop, I'm a machine, I'm in neutral, I'm numb to everything but this. feeling of disgust and fear and I can't hear them outside my door, the monsters come a knocking, the walking death traps. You're in danger just by breathing. I let out a sob as I hear the first crash against the door, speeding up, rubbing my hands together fast and ignoring the sounds of bruising pain from outside.

The sound comes again and I don't even look towards the door, all of my attention is focused on the hot water that is still pouring from the tap and I don't know how long I have been here but I've been counting and I have washed my hands two hundred and twenty-six times and that's not a very even, rounded number so I need to get to at least two hundred and fifty to be satisfied but I think that someday soon I will be scraping away my own bone.

The sound comes again and this time it is accompanied by a splintering sound and the bathroom door swinging open. I don't look to see who is there but anger does flare up in my chest because Eva knows that no one is allowed in here but I'm busy so I-

I feel a weight rushing into me, pulling me backwards and I land on Eos who is beneath me and I can't move my arms and I screech angrily, afraid, horrified. No one is allowed to touch me, no one is allowed to touch me ever and it's a rule and they know this, they know this so why why why why and Eva is kneeling over me and Eos is under me and they. are. too. close. to. me. they. need. to. "GO AWAY," I shout desperately, struggling in Eos' hold but he's much stronger than me. Blood gets on Eva as she takes my wrists to inspect my hands and my chest is all tight and I'm going to cry again and I need them to leave me alone because I need to be clean.

Sobs wrack my body as I go weak from fear and I curl up against Eos, wriggling in his hold, trying to loosen him. I clench my hands and it hurts and Eva looks upset and I'm mad because they're in my bathroom and they aren't allowed in here. "Leave me alone, just leave me alone,"I cry, desperation lacing my voice, making me pitiful.

"Please," I beg them.

[maverick hale 🌧️ d5 [nyte]]

E O S

You can hear the moment my heart shatters. It breaks into a thousand pieces upon the floor as I hold the taller man back. He struggles against my grip but I refuse to give. My shoulder burns and my muscles ache but I will not let go. My head shakes against the fabric of his shirt and I notice just how strongly he smells of soap. GO AWAY, he orders. My grip slacks for only a second; I'm terrified. I recognize his tone, I'd heard it so many times before. Anger. He was angry at me and that was always accompanied by a beating. I knew he wouldn't touch me, that any beating I would receive was something less than physical. Somehow, I think that'll hurt worse.

An avox's job is to obey and I do not.

I lock my hands together in front of his body, breath coming in heavy gasps as I work to restrain him. He begs us to leave him alone and I shake my head once more, pulling the both of us backwards. No. One more step. No. One more step. I'm not letting you go. I cannot say the words; my silence cannot answer his pleas, it cannot comfort him or scream at him like I wish to. (Why the fuck are you doing this to yourself?! I don't get this! Just. Stop!) They take our tongues because we are not supposed to ask. They take our tongues to take any will we once had and to peel our souls away with the pink muscle. You become less than human so that they need not feel guilty putting their hands upon you and squeezing until you see stars.

I've hated blood ever since I was a child. The thick, red liquid made my head spin and my stomach churn. It wasn't something meant to be seen, something that was hidden beneath the skin for a reason. Even when I'd sat in that damned interrogation room, choking on my own blood, the fear had not left me. Even sitting in the rain and watching blood seep from the wounds upon my body and into the cracks of the tile, my fear remained strong. Blood hid beneath the skin because it was ugly.

Kel has no skin left to hide the blood. It falls upon Eva as the old woman looks at him. She's concerned and maybe that scares me all the more. Eva has always kept a cool head, a kind of clairvoyance surrounding her when she regarded you with eyes that saw straight into your soul. And if she's concerned I'm scared shitless. He curls against my body, desperate to escape like a feral animal who'd never before been touched. (Maybe because that's what he is.)

As scared as I am, I keep moving. I am dirty and disgusting and Kelsier will throw me out on my ass after this but I still put as much distance as I can between us and the bloody sink. We crash against a wall and my skin splits open, the wounds barely healed sending white hot pain down my spine. My teeth crash hard against each other and I stifle the pained scream sitting upon my tongue. It's not my place to hurt because Kel is. Hurting is not an option when another's pain is my fault.

In spite of myself, my knees grow weak. They refuse to hold me and it sends the both of us in a slow descent to the ground. Every exhale shakes with sobs I will not release, every inhale is stilted and awkward. We're not supposed to touch Kelsier but he is warm in my grip. His tears fall upon my hands and they feel as though embers have embedded themselves in my skin, they burn something awful because they are my fault.

My arms move by themselves, pulling Kel into an embrace rather than a restraint. I hold him as close to me as I dare and I try to comfort him the best I can when I possess no words. (Please stop Kelsier. Please, it'll be okay. I promise I'll make it okay.) I cannot say a word but I'll make him understand just as I had before. My lips vibrate ever so slightly, a gentle mmm pulled from my throat. I try hard to mimic the calming shush that mother had so often used when I'd woken from an awful nightmare. "Shh, Eos it was only a dream, shhh." and she'd pull her hand through my hair and rock me back and forth until I could no longer feel scared because it was just so safe in her arms.

I can't do that but I still pull him closer, I throw every single rule to the wind and I try to make Kel feel better. I've absolutely no idea how to calm the distressed boy without words but I try. Not holding him like a peacekeeper would a disruptive citizen, but still strong enough against his struggles so that he cannot make his way back to the running water. My face is pressed into his shoulder because I don't want to see the blood. Seeing the pain I'd as good as inflicted upon him would be enough to send me into my own fit and I'd done enough damage already. (Please, Kelsier, please. It'll be okay.)

(I promise I'll make it okay).

I've tried so hard to stop it. Constantly reminding myself that he was my master and not just a man. Reminding myself that I'm beneath him in every single way and that he'd never have given me the time of day had I not been shoved under his nose so obnoxiously. But I can't see him as just that. It'd been so long since I had a friend I'd let myself get attached to the first person to show me kindness because I am utterly useless. I see the man as my friend because he's not treated me like a servant. A real friend is something of a luxury. Even back in Ten I don't think I'd met someone so selfless. Someone who'd take the flower just because I looked at them with such hopeless admiration they'd not wanted to break my heart. A friend, a real friend. And I don't just want to be another avox or another slave. I'm tired of being that avox, or that bitch, despite the words having been carved so cruelly into my abdomen. I don't want Kelsier to see me as his slave, I want him to be a friend.

Avoxes don't get friends.

[gamemaker kelsier]

K E L

CXIV

People say
it's like flying
Being free

But I know
It's more like
Death

-K.V.D.

Eva ignores me, so does Eos and I want to scream in frustration. There are bugs, crawling all over me, them holding me like this, it's like they want me to die. They're like my parents, purposefully trying to kill me because I was more of a hassle to them than something to love and care for. Just because it's true it doesn't mean that I should die, just because I am a useless waste of resources it doesn't mean that I shouldn't get to live. My childhood was spent trying to understand what my place was in my family, what I meant to them and I came to that understanding. I was always just an annoyance to them. I can understand that Eos and Eva might feel the same, which is why they don't let me get to the sink, which is why they're okay with me dying.

They don't let go of me. Blood drips down my arms in small rivers, staining the blankness of the tiling and the crispness of my shirt, making us all so dirty. I bite my lip, anger making me speechless. They aren't allowed to touch me. I told them that and they agreed, they said they wouldn't. Eos is making gentle sounds in my er as if he thinks that will stop me being mad about all these tiny bugs crawling all over but he's wrong. I want them all to be squished, I want them to die but the only way to kill them is by cleaning my hands off because the bugs came from my hands when they took the flower. It's obvious. I don't see why they don't understand.

I struggle, arching my back in an effort to make Eos let go but he doesn't. I haven't been held in years and years. His skin feels warm on mine, his chest sturdy against my back and for a moment I sink into him before wiggling against him in an attempt to get free. He's had a lifetime of work and I've had a lifetime of hiding inside, typing. He's too strong to escape. My hands go limp and hang in midair from where Eva is gripping my wrists. Blood meets in small rivers and pools at my fingertips, joining together to drip to the floor. She's got a towel in her hands and is wrapping my hands in them.

It stings and I shout something incoherent and sad.

Why do my hands hurt, I was only washing them.

I accept the fact that Eos won't let me go mostly because suddenly I feel tired, weak. I didn't reach two hundred and fifty times, only two hundred and thirty-nine. The number of washes is uneven and ugly. I need to wash my hands again. "Eva I need to wash my hands," I tell her helpfully in the hopes that she'll remember and let me go so I can. "If I don't get them clean I could die," I remind her. It's very important that I stay clean. My immune system is very weak. She knows this. I told her when I moved into this big old house. She's being silly right now.

My legs are shaking and weak. When Eos moves to sit, he's holding me still so I can't help but follow him. His arms are wrapped around my arms and my chest and I can't move well. "Eos," I begin, hoping he'll listen to me, "Let go, I have to wash my hands." I wait for him to let go of me but it seems that all rational thought has left the two of them in this panic. They ignore my requests. panic begins to build again and I wiggle, sniffling slightly as Eva stand and leaves, coming back with a bowl only moments later. She fills it from the tap with slightly steaming water and brings it down to the floor.

I'm glad that she is going to let me wash my hands. In fact, I'm so grateful that I'm going to forget this small transgression in their otherwise perfect records. "Thank-you, Eva," I say generously even though in my opinion I have every right to be upset with the two of them. They're invading on my personal space by being in my private bathroom. A weird sense of calm has blanketed itself over me and things feel muted, fine, fuzzy and soft even. I'm probably going to die because of all these little germs but it's okay at this point. I fought bravely.

Eva takes my hands gently and places them in the bowl. A soft hiss escapes from between my lips at the pain. I can't fathom why it hurts so bad. All I was doing was washing my hands. Tears climb out of the corners of my eyes, betraying me. It hurts, it really hurts. She takes a cloth and dabs at my skin but every touch feels like she's pressing a burning piece of Iron against my skin. Is this similar to the pain that Elend went through when he was being branded? I struggle against Eos's hold even as Eva stops to sign at him, hold. - him. - tight. -

Panic grips me again and I struggle harder, confused. Are they trying to kill me? Together? Eva picks up a roll of bandages and my brain feels sluggish, completely exhausted. Too much has happened today, I can't keep up.

"What are you doing to me?" I shout.

[maverick hale 🌧️ d5 [nyte]]

E O S

I know that I am not supposed to be cared about. This rule had been beaten into my skin for six months before coming here. The rules are scrawled across my back, the long strokes of a whip and crop circles where bejeweled fists struck my skin rise an angry red against pale paper. They taught me that, first and foremost, I am worthless. No matter how kindly a master may treat me, the minute I mess up, I am punished. That I will be hurt because that is what I deserve. And maybe I was stupid to think that Kelsier Van Dam was some kind of exception to this rule. Because after all he is a Capitolite and I am a dirty, rotten avox.

But I believed with all of my heart that he was. Because I needed something, anything, to believe in after I lost everything. And I was a fool. And I was wrong.

And he's hurt me just like I knew he would. 

Kelsier struggles against my grip, screaming something at me that I can't make out and that I don't care to. I simply bite into my cheek, sharp white claws sunk deeper into the flesh with every sudden movement the taller boy makes. There are tears crawling onto my cheeks like fire. I realize it now. I understand. Because it does not matter what I want. Because I was stupid to think that anything I gave to him would be met with anything but horror. Because I am a dirty, rotten avox.

I am a dirty, rotten avox and this is all my fault.

And I'll be gone by the end of the week. 

It hurts so bad, the terrible throbbing from the left side of my chest. I think that maybe Kelsier's elbow sunk into the bone on accident because something terrible is breaking within me. A deep, deep hopelessness that leaves me breathless, panting and spiraling and hurting and lost. I think he hit my heart on accident in his struggle and now I'm sure it's breaking. 

I don't matter to Kelsier Van Dam. He didn't want the flower. (I am a dirty, rotten avox.) He didn't want my thanks. (I am a dirty, rotten avox.) He didn't want to be reminded of the burden dropped on his doorstep. (I am a dirty rotten avox.) He doesn't want me. (I am a dirty, rotten avox.) 

He took the flower because he was too nice.

It's all my fault. 

My shoulders shake as they hold him tight, the pitiful wails escaping his mouth sending glass shards deeper within my eyes and sending blood dripping off my nose. It hurts so bad, this punishment. Because I am not the one being hurt. 

Because I was so, so certain he was different. 

But Capitolites and Avox, they don't get to be friends. They don't get to chat gleefully over breakfast and speak of writing and gardens. Cannot watch one carefully spread peanut butter on his toast filled with crumbs even though  it's one of the messiest breakfasts he's ever seen. Cannot marvel at how full of paradoxes one man can be. I am supposed to sit silently, dressed in suits and blend into the shadows. I am supposed to take up no space. Supposed to be as good as dead.

And here I am with my arms wrapped firmly around Kelsier while he begs me to let him go and wash his hands because I am so dirty and I am touching him and it's all my fault. 

But the smell of blood is turning the inside of my stomach to mush and I cannot stand to see him hurt himself anymore. 

Because I care even though I shouldn't. 

My face buries itself in the fabric of his shirt, shoulders shaking as I desperately clench my jaw to keep the pitiful sobs from wrecking the inside of my body like the earthquake of one all that time ago. 

I think I'm going to crumble just like the buildings trapped within that tragedy.

He smells of soap and blood. Of bitter hand sanitizer and a sort of stale sweetness. Something nice long forgotten in the chaos. 

When I look up Eva is wrapping his hands. 

"What are you doing to me?!" He shouts, and it makes me so mad. Something I'd long since forgotten how to feel. Something hot making its way up my neck with such bitter fury that I release him. I release him and sling my hands around his neck so that he can properly see the words I wish to speak. (Because I am a dirty, rotten Avox.) 

Shut up. Shut up. Shut up! And I know that I've ruined everything. And I know that I've lost my home again but I cannot stop my fingers because it hurts so much that I do not matter. I don't know why but it hurts so much. I should have known I am nothing. I should have known but his smiles were so inviting and his laughs something precious.

I wanted him to be different but he has broken me as well.

I'm sorry! I'm sorry I gave you the flower and sorry I can't be clean for you! I'm fucking sorry your mom even bought me and I'm sorry you were stuck with me and I'm sorry I ruined everything!

Had I not been so accustom to quieting my cries, I'd have been sobbing into his shoulder. Because everything is falling out of me at once. Because it all hurts so much.

I'll leave. I'll be gone and you'll never see me again and I won't make you dirty but please- but please stop hurting yourself because it fucking hurts. 

[gamemaker kelsier]

K E L

CXV

Even if we try
the sorrow comes
as certain as
our deaths

from down my
winding
twisting
bones

-K.V.D.

Eva begins, sliding white bandage down my wrist to wrap it around my hand, hiding it, keeping the bugs in. I shake. She's keeping the bugs in, they'll burrow under my skin and that will be the end of me. It's genius, far more sinister than anything my mother ever thought to do to me. Her murderous intent was limited to pressing her lips stained with red against my skin, leaving a mark, leaving her bugs behind. Her coat always smelled of stale cigarette smoke and a slight sour smell of alcohol. She'd enter our apartment, treading dirt from the streets outside all over the carpet. She brought home a kitten one early morning after a gala at a menagerie.

She didn't care.

Neither must Eva or Eos if they're doing this to me, if they won't let me wash my hands. I can't see my own skin, just the hundreds of bugs crawling all over the palms of my hands, burrowing deep down into my skin, stinging me, poisoning me. There are so many of them that they struggle to find an open spot for themselves and fall down into the bowl of water beneath them. My heart races as Eva wraps my hands up, tighter and tighter, the bugs are becoming stuck, they'll burrow down into my bloodstream and swim up to my organs and burrow in there and then I'll die. I don't have blood cells to fight the germs with. I'm going to die.

Even if they don't care for me anymore, even if they despise me for having a tongue, for being a Capitolite, I'm okay with that. I never needed anyone to like me, I was always happier on my own anyway. Eva who has been like a mother these past four years, Eos whose friendship I yearned for despite our vast differences. Maybe they planned this together, ganging up on me so that Eva can finally be free from me. I don't blame her. I don't, I don't, I don't.

"Please," I beg in a soft whimper, "I'll be good, just let m-"

Hands flop in front of my face and I lurch back in surprise, the proximity to my skin making me feel sick. They fly around in patterns that I have never seen emerge from them. The boy who has been living with me these past few weeks never had so many words to say to me before. I mistook it for inability to communicate. Maybe it was just shyness. He becomes fluent in his rage with me.

I sit, stock still, confusion and anguish, pain clouding my brain from working. He's shouting at me, I think. If an Avox could shout perhaps this is how it would be. His movements are jerky and sharp, hands flying at the speed of sound. I watch, concentrating, trying to keep up. I'm. - Sorry. - I'll. - Leave. - Stop. - Hurting. - Yourself. -

"No," I say, the word leaving my lips almost involuntarily. I don't know what it's for. His face is pressed into my back, I can feel his cheek through the fabric. One hand is bandaged, the bugs are gone, out of sight, my death is imminent. She begins on the other. The bugs run around in a frenzy, tearing at my skin. Blood drips. "Don't go," I beg. I don't want to be alone. If I'm going to die anyway, I don't want to be alone.

"No one's ever given me a flower before."

I glance up to where it sits still, bright and beautiful in it's glass. From here, it isn't as scary. From here, it's beautiful. Like most things, as long as they stay far from me then it's okay. Eos' hands rest in front of my face, his hair tickles my neck.

"I'm scared," I sob as the bandage closes around my hand. My hands sting, they burn where the bugs burrow deeper. My breath comes faster and my vision darkens as I try to deal with this, I can't. I can't do this. I was okay for so long, safe. I was safe before. Maybe before I might have been okay with dying, maybe before when there was nothing exciting, when I couldn't even write anymore because I lost my talent I would have been okay. Now I can write again, now there are beautiful things to place on paper, now that I have a friend.

"I don't want....I don't want..." I don't want to die.

My vision darkens.

I slump backwards, the hands fading from view.