36- Not On Speaking Terms

36- Not On Speaking Terms
Aisha woke up with a headache and a heavy stomach. She thought about making herself vomit, it would probably help her get through the day. Because she was angry, no, it was more than that. She woke up enraged. Hot, volcanic rage bubbled up under the surface, dying to be let loose. Every breath she took seemed to push more lava through her body. She wanted blood and she had absolutely no reservations about getting it. 

Overnight a few things had become clear. Slowly her perspective on the dinner sharpened. She could see things from outside the veil of fear. Most notably, Imset had let everything happen. How much he knew about the effect it would have was irrelevant. His duty was to protect her. Sure, that probably meant physically but Aisha had stupidly thought she might warrant enough for him to care about her emotional health as well.

Clearly a consort to him was not worth much. His brothers seemed to worship their wives and he couldn't even effectively put Bast in her place. She wasn't sure what role Anubis had played in it all but Osiris had certainly intended for her to feel awful.

Aisha was tired. Bone aching tired. How many times was she going to have her insides ripped out before she didn't have anything left inside to rip?

She dragged herself to a sitting position in the bed, squinting against the harsh morning light.

Imset appeared in her room, "Aisha-"

"OUT!" she commanded and he disappeared. This had been going on since last night. What astounded her was that she couldn't control him the first time she tried. But now, with her body numb, she was able to force him out using intention. She imagined him disappearing and he would.

It had to be at least half a dozen times now. He would try to talk to her, she would send him away. When she finally fell into a restless sleep, she was sure he'd been standing over her bed. That didn't stop her from making him leave the second she became aware.

No doubt he was coming to continue being an asshole, as he always was. He'd been the clearest message she'd receive that the gods were not better than humans. He was cruel. Told her she mattered. Made her really believe that. Only to show her the exact opposite as soon as there were others present. What had been the point of all that possessive energy in her shower?

At first, making him leave was a punishment, but now it was because she had other things on her mind.

Whatever calm she might have been trying to find was ruined when she looked to her bedside table. She traced her fingers over the picture of Aiko smiling. This picture was one Aisha hadn't seen in years. Something from her desk drawer. Aiko was posing in a hot pink wig. The photo was snapped while she was in mid-jump, doing the sailor moon pose from the opening credits. 

Aisha wiped at the tears beginning to form, refusing to look at the empty bed. She shuddered as she collected all the other photos she'd spread out on her nightstand, shoving them in the drawer like a lid she planned to clamp down over her sadness. She couldn't bring Aiko back, but she could make sure they never did it again. She could make sure they suffered. She wanted to make sure they suffered.

Have mercy, Aiko had said. But Aisha had none. Today, Imset would get his wish. She would complete the contract and they could both officially be done with one another.

She cut on some alternative music and tapped her fingers to the beat.

He appeared again, "Pl-"

"GO!"

Speak of the devil, and he shall appear. Standing at her closet, Aisha frowned at the emptiness. Imset had really stolen all her clothes and tucked them away in his own closet. She went to her dresser and flipped through her more casual clothes.

What would be the best play? Overstated sexy to draw them in? Understated sexy to gain their interest? No, she realized. They liked the ones who weren't interested. They wanted the ones that wanted nothing to do with them. That's just how their sick minds worked. So she pulled out a basic pair of liquid leggings and a thin black sweater with the profile of a jackal on it, draping them over her arm. It seemed fitting to wear Anubis on a day when she would be sending people to meet him.

Without another glance back, she went into the shower and  began to wash her hair. She spent the entire sleepless night wondering why her heart could turn so dark so quickly. She'd been halfway okay after cleaning the apartment and singing along to Aiko's favorite music but she just had to look through those old photos. And now the gnawing darkness was back, all-consuming.

It's just the way she was, for as long as she could remember. Her parents used to get high all the time and perhaps she was lucky she wasn't born dependent on drugs. Perhaps, she was lucky her childhood wasn't full of worse things like some people's were. But to her, what she remembered of them felt bad enough. They were perfect working class on the outside. They had regular jobs: her mom was a secretary and her father was a construction worker. They both immigrated from Egypt before she was born and worked hard to make a life for themselves. As mundane and American a story as one could get.

But inside the house, it was far from mundane. Addition hit her father first. It wasn't obvious what was happening because she was young but slowly his attitude started changing. Her loving, careful father became half a man: abusive, lazy, i'll-tempered.

Then it was her mother, who had spent so much time saying she would make sure Aisha's father got the help he needed, assuring her that things would get better. Only to fall victim to the same addiction. Before long, the pipe was in her mother's hand too. And all those small promises seemed to disappear. She became cold and isolating, finding any little thing to punish Aisha for. You worthless little shit. Why haven't you gotten a job yet?

All the love from her parents seemed to melt away into nothing. And just like with Aiko, she imagined it was somehow better to never have known happiness at all.

Hopping out of the shower, Aisha ran some product through her hair and turned on the diffuser. She normally didn't dwell on her life or what had happened to her, but today felt different. It felt like a kind of reckoning. A day to get her head fully in order for what was to come.

"Don't send m-"

"LEAVE!" She sighed. This was becoming tedious. At some point, she would have to let the god speak. She couldn't banish him every second of the day for as long as she lived. Inside somewhere, she understood that, but she really couldn't take another blow right now. She was barely functioning as it was. The cycle of sadness was hard to pull herself out of.

It had been a daily cycle under her parents' roof as well and then, just like now, she couldn't escape. Watching her parents self destruct over and over again was numbing. Fighting each other, blaming her, tearing up any peace of mind she ever tried to hold on to. Never any signs of coming back from the edge. Aisha usually had to eat extra at school and live on chips or other junk at home because it was cheap and the corner store only had small groceries. There were never any new school clothes that weren't from the goodwill and she was teased about it without mercy. Never money for field trips. Or dances. All the normal things any teenage girl wanted in her life.

Under the façade of their life, there was debt, dysfunction and drugs. That last one being the main reason for the first two. And in the end, it was easier to give in then fight it all alone. The year before the courts made her leave, she'd started getting high hourly, just to kill that pain, even if only for a little while. And they let her, hell even encouraged her. And on days like this, she really fucking missed that feeling.

After getting dressed, Aisha nervously tapped her free hand against the sink, using the other to apply her mascara and eyeliner. And when both hands were occupied putting on foundation, she tapped her foot. Her whole body felt like a bundle of heat and nerves. She didn't know what to do about it, other than what she had already planned. Burn by The Cure started playing and she immediately smiled, thinking about The Crow. Why the hell did she love that movie so much? The revenge? The grunge? The fucking aesthetic? The fact that she cried every time? Or the fact that the villains were so clear and easy to define?

She grew up engrossed in the one thing they did consistently have, television. She'd watch movies and shows like her life depended on it. Escaping to somewhere else just to stay above water. And it became her own addiction. Horror, sci-if, paranormal, gothic. She devoured the media because it seemed to soothe some aching part of herself that no one seemed to be able to see.

When depression would drag her down, she'd watch re-runs of Buffy or binge a marathon of Nightmare on Elm Street. That was how she coped with the darkness she felt, by embracing it. How many times did she wish some twisted supernatural being would just come and rescue her? The more twisted the better, someone to match her. Seemed only fitting that the one that finally did, was an asshole. That's just how life worked.

"Aisha seriously don't kick me out this time," Imset begged, panting, "It takes a lot of fucking energy to do this so many times in a row..."

"What is it?" she asked, not breaking her concentration on the mirror. He seemed to balk at not being kicked out and all of a sudden had nothing to say.

"Then get out."

"Fuc-"

There was just no light anywhere, not even inside her chest. Aiko was it. Fucking sunlight in a storm of her life. That light going out made it even harder to see anything. Aisha felt like she was wading blindly through the world. It was like remembering who she really was all those years ago. When she had dragged a blade across her wrists. When she had met Anubis time and time again. Beneath the small joy with Aiko, there had still been that darkness. Like Serkie had said, that part always existed. Aiko was simply a balm to soothe the wounds. It hadn't healed them.

Aisha found herself capable of such rage. Rage for the way the world was. Rage for the things that should have never happened to her. Rage that seemed etched into her bones. And she was going to let it out. One way or another.