Sal sat on her bed, her head firmly planted in her hands that trembled ever so often.
Doing so confirmed her fears. Her cousin she hugged just minutes before, reeked of blood.
There was nothing Sal could do, was willing to do. But all tangible thought, that wasn’t bursting with dread and confusion, was trying to figure out what to do here. Can she do anything…?
As she parted her fingers, unveiling her gray eyes, Sal started at the ground. She didn’t need to focus on the wooden texture, Sal just needed to something to look at, and let her vision blur.
The blur forming into memories past.
Despite being unable to see herself, Sal could remember the exact face she made. Recalling the flailing arms she overperformed, her throat aching due to the sudden uptick of her pitch. She couldn’t believe what Cal did, then.
“YOU WROTE ‘NOTHER THINGY FOR US TO PLAY AS?!” Sal, the little girl, sounded so aghast.
It was so interesting, looking back. The obvious changes aside, it really seemed like Calypso virtually never changed.
Her cousin shrunk at Sal’s volume. Her brown hair in a bowl-cut bob which she got teased over, only because her bangs and fringe were TOO neat. She pressed her papers against her white and polka-dotted blouse, which were 2 pages—something Sal back then couldn’t even fathom having more than 1 page of something.
And of course, Cal’s signature pathetic pout, as if the rest of her face was made to droop around it, help sell it. But at least back then, it was still fresh on her face… And always very questioning. Sad.
“Y-yeah… You said that you wanted to do it again…”
It was back then when Cal could not carry her tone to save her life. It made Sal as a kid constantly scream, just to show her how to be loud (which earned so much ire from all of their parents, of course). Sal didn’t need to see what happened next, because she knew what followed.
The little girl extending her pinky while curling the rest of the fingers with the thumb cresting against them. And proceeding to dig into her right ear with a rhythmic sense to it.
“Gee, God must’ve turn down my volume…” Sal proceeded to take a slow inhale, before shouting. “’CUZ I COULDN’T HEAR A DANG WORD YA’ SAYIN’, CAL!”
Cal immediately threw her head back and groaned as hard as she could (not a lot). Which always made Sal laugh, it invoked Charlie Brown for her.
“Only because talking is hard and needing to is hard andIjusdunwannadewit!”
Sal had to stop laughing, to stave off the oncoming meltdown. Once Cal went into ‘run-on mouth’ mode, there was very little to calm her down aside from herself, until she burned herself out. Which she grew out of, due to her becoming more and more proper and enunciated.
“Well, ya’ choulda just said dat first~!” Sal laughed out, reflecting the same level of quality of speech she has to this day.
Cal sighed, which also trailed into a whisper. “Okay, okay… It’s just… We had fun yesterday and I couldn’t sleep all that good, sooo…” She raised up the two papers, the words being so large that Sal could read them from her spot.
Sal smirked, putting her hands on her hips, “Is’it ‘Brother n’ Sister’ again~?”
Cal blushed a hair in embarrassment. “Maybe…”
Sal laughed once more, putting her hands behind her frizzy blonde and black hair. “Seriously, shouldn’t it be ‘Sister n’ Sister’ anyways?”
“Well, there’s that show that’s called that…” Cal sheepishly answered. “So…”
“True~!”
“Thaaaat… And well…”
Cal also had a pacing problem, Sal took it as her trying to save her writhing, wavering voice.
“You’re all rough and mean, so you make the perfect brother…”
“… I’mma soooo kick your butt—” Sal replied, instantly proving Cal’s point.
They then ran around a bit, within their shared room of their old home. Their beds pressed against the wall opposite across the door, their shattered toys making the wooden floors a minefield. But it was less ‘theirs’ and more Sal. Cal was always scared to ask her mother for… Anything, really.
Eventually, they calmed down, and went to play their ‘hit show’. The cousins loved network television, especially the sitcoms that were targeted for their age and not so. All of this came about because they often shouted out what they would say “in” the show. But Cal was really into the idea more than Sal.
It was nice, seeing her being so involved and… Passionate, for once. If Sal didn’t bug her into moving and speaking, the girl often read alone on her bed, or even worse. It was rare, because maybe the girl knew how odd it was, but Sal caught her just… Huddled up. Staring forward, at nothing. All with such a vacant and crushed look on her face. One time, she even caught her crying to herself. There wasn’t a need to bother her, in that moment.
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Because Sal herself was too broken up at the sight.
It was when those thoughts—the same series of thoughts, flooded in Sal’s mind that brought her back to the present.
Why is she so sad? Why can’t I ever help her stop being sad?
…Did she cause any of this, being a bad cousin? Or is none of the goodness can save whatever she caused?
That’s why this is so personal, why it was always this personal for her. Sal knew that she was the last, genuine connection that poor girl had. No matter how much this hurt, no matter how afraid of whatever this turns out to be this ends up as…
Sal was slouched forward, her arms draped over her exposed legs. But her eyes were fired up, her determined energy brewing in them.
She got up, reviewing the actual cards she kept to her chest. Sal felt bad, not being totally truthful with her cousin—but she knew that it was mutual on her part as well.
The first “thing” was, once again, her reeking of blood. Sal flashed back, hugging her sobbing cousin after what she could only imagine was such a harrowing experience—hearing whatever broke into the cattle’s pins, killing that cow… Then, the immediate whiff of rotten iron hit Sal’s nose. She couldn’t stop hugging Cal, breaking away from her in confusion… But that hung over Sal for a number of weeks. And once again, she smelt that terrible stench again.
The second “thing” was unrelated. Sal simply sauntered into Cal’s room, looking for any nice shampoos she could steal since her cousin was very great with her selections and Sal ran out of hers. And once she prowled toward one of her dressers, Sal was pricked by the floor itself, causing her to yelp (and nearly swear up a storm). Looking downward after that sting of pain… The floorboards were ripped up. Almost broken up into pieces, parts of the boards barely clinging on. She couldn’t stare for so long, Sal was sneaking in after all. But that dug a deeper pit in her stomach.
And the last… See, Sal’s savvy. She knows what she thought next was nebulous, that it was the equivalent of pointing at a guy and going, “I don’t like him, ‘cuz he has a stupid face!”
But Cal’s demeanor, it’s totally shifted. There was always a sadness, clearly weighing on her. She does not at all like being this way, and it was clear. Now? Mainly her eyes… They only reflect because other people’s do. Cal only emotes because she deems it to do so in the moment, because people look for that. It isn’t just that she’s hiding something…
She’s playing human. Not Cal.
Everything was interrupted, as Sal yelped out and grabbed her head.
Not only a stabbing feeling, but it grew outwards from the source of pain. Almost like a web.
At least it was brief, causing Sal to softly sigh at herself.
“That’s what happens, when ya’ don’t eat nothin’ Sally…”
But there was nothing to it. Sal just shrugged it off and moved along, especially since there was not only schooling later—but she had to save the soul of her loved one.
Rising from her bed, as she was getting ready to head off… Sal had to rub her right eye before moving on. Very much. And for a very long time before she walked away.
***
Sal walked out of English with a yawn. Stretching, moving out of the way of the others leaving the class, Sal put her back to the wall, crossing her arms. Waiting.
“You wanted to see me, Ms. Sal--?”
“IIIII know you’re the formal type, Teach…” Sal waved her hands. “But Ms. Grimes is nice! It’s all good n’ nobody gotta die of embarrassment--!”
Mrs. Moses chuckled, propped up with her cane. “Considering I have another Ms. Grimes, forgive me for opting for what came easiest to me…”
“Of course, of course!” Sal smiled, moving from the wall and out of her professor’s way. “N’, can I say? I am a fan of ya’ trying to move without that chair! Warms the heart!”
“It’s just a game of increasing my endurance…” Mrs. Moses then grunted out, starting to walk forward periodically. “After all, we have our festive gathering in a few days. A perfect excuse to break this relic out…”
“Can’t wait to see ya’ there, Teach!” Sal followed from the side, easing her usual brisk pace, laughed before her face fell. “But since we were on the same topic… The other ‘Ms. Grimes’. Calypso.”
“Be mindful that I cannot tell you her academic standing, as you are not her legal guardian,” Mrs. Moses hid her sternness under a thin veneer of tease.
“We both know there ain’t no problems with that,” Sal rolled her eyes, at least not at her professor.
But the instant fall of silence over the scene caused Sal to briefly second guess that assumption.
“A-anyways, uh… Is she—has she been actin’ strange lately…? Alienated the class? Alienated you…?”
“Nothing troubling, no. At least from my perspective, but then again, it’s not like she’s the most talkative sort.”
Sal bit her lip, hemming and hawing to herself.
“If you do have concerns about her welfare, should I suppose a conference with the Dean? With your parents in tow?”
Sal quickly tugged her snapback hat down, “See, that’s… That’s a last resort sorta thang. I think I can handle it n’ that sorta thing… It’s…”
The tan girl looked downwards, at her dirtied white sneakers. “She’s my cousin. Not some inmate.”
“…I’ll say this.”
Sal perked up, looking at her professor.
“She has gone through a large amount of trauma lately. We know so little about the inner workings of our minds, and I don’t think we’ll truly learn anything… But that doesn’t go away, Ms. Grimes. Calypso will be irreversibly changed by this, and can we blame her? I’ve seen a lot in this world, and had I gone through the same ordeal as her? I would be worse, in some respects.”
That gave Sal pause, suddenly stopping for a moment before regaining her footing after. “Man.”
“However.”
“H-however--?”
“Leaving her to her devices and doing nothing, that’s not support either. If anything, it’s the worst thing you could do for her. Sometimes, this trauma… It does drive people to become a danger to themselves and others. Keep in mind, mental trauma does not always correlate with violent individuals. But if you suspect Calypso is doing something dangerous, for her and others, you have to notify adults, to save her.”
Sal gripped the sides of her head, wearing a tired expression on her face. “You just. Told me two different, conflictin’ things to do—”
“I’m just supplying you with the relevant knowledge that you seek,” Mrs. Moses looked at her student with her stoic face. “But, I will keep an eye on the girl if you want me to. Maybe that will inform your ultimate choice. But always remember, at the core of this, you have to support her. And support does not necessarily mean coddle.”
Thankfully Sal was already clutching her head, because the pain immediately shot her down, causing her to yell out, falling onto one knee.
Mrs. Moses tossed her cane to the side without a second thought, bending down to help her student, “Sal, Sally! Are you okay?!”
While her legs wavered, Mrs. Moses lifted up Sal, groaning softly in pain as she completely put her on her feet again. Sal, in turn, gathered her bearings to let her professor lean against her as she softly huffed in pain.
“I’m fine, I’m fine!” Sal put on her smile, nodding. “Don’t worry, just a really bad headache. Prolly from all this stress, huh?”
But the last thing Sal wanted to see at that moment, happened as she traded a look with Mrs. Moses.
Eyes that only reflect because hers did. Hiding behind an expression she gave, only because Sal expected to see such.
“Regardless. Please, for me, go to the nurse. Just in case.”
Sal couldn’t see what her professor broke her façade over. But that was natural, as the girl couldn’t see from the third person.
Black, tendril-like veins were arching across Sal’s right eye. And almost as if they were caught mid-action, they quickly retreated back behind said eye.
“I think we both should go, honestly,” Sal none the wiser. “I’ll get yer cane and we’ll be bunk buddies~!”