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The first person Callie tells her big secret to is her therapist.
It makes sense. She’s got to tell her therapist everything so she can help with everything. Besides, there was no risk of Marie finding out, since it would be an actual crime if her therapist said anything.
She tried making it casual. “So, is it still a kidnapping if you wanted to go?”
Her therapist pauses, cocking an eyebrow. “What do you mean?” She asks, in an even, non-judgemental tone. Callie still feels like she's being judged– it is her job, after all.
And then the nerves seep in. “Be-because I… kinda wanted to. I might have… set the whole thing up, actually. It-it was… um.” She sinks into herself under the doctor’s stare. “It was my idea.”
Dr. Wavey– Callie finally remembers her name after blanking for the last 30 minutes– takes another moment to think, then adjusts her seating position. A pointed ear twitches, and her eyes almost disappear into her mask as she squints. “Callie, are you saying you ran away, instead of being kidnapped?”
Callie nods– it’s all she can feel she can do. The truth is out there now, and a frothing panicked wave crashes against her chest and into her head. “Yeah. I-I set the whole thing up to… to make it look like I got taken. When really, I was just… I was just…”
I was abandoning everything because I was sick of it. I was leaving everyone who cared about me without even telling them to leave me alone. And the worst part is they don’t know.
“Marie doesn’t know,” Callie spits out, and she curls up on the comfy couch she’s sat upon. “I haven’t– I mean… You’re the only one that knows, now.” Other than DJ Octavio, but I can’t really say that part.
She tries to listen to what Dr. Wavey is saying, but it all blurs out after an, “I’m honored you trust me enough with this.” She can’t stop the tears once they start, nor the fuzz in her brain once it grows.
At least she got it out once. She could do it again.
After a few more difficult sessions in the coming weeks, Callie is put on quite a few new medications. An antidepressant, an antipsychotic. Something to help with her epilepsy that’s suddenly developed (thanks for nothing you stupid-cool sunglasses) , and a new ADHD medication, since her old one had bad reactions with her new antipsychotic.
There was a litany of rules and instructions and what-cant-be-taken-when and what-not-to-eat-or-drink. She was given a fine-font printout for her to keep as reference.
All she could think of, staring at the rattling bag of pills and inch-thick information packet set on her bed, was just how fucked up she was.
No, she couldn’t be doing this bad? She was Callie! Callie was never depressed or suicidal or manic or prone to panic attacks or I know it may not seem like it, but that still counts as suicidal ideation. She was never this bad before. A little stressed, yeah. A bit scatterbrained, of course. Impulsive? Absolutely. But it wasn’t bad .
(She remembers, then, a few nights in a row before she ran away. She had gotten so overwhelmed and fed up she "microdosed on overdosing" by swallowing an entire pack of tic-tacs. Maybe they were right.)
Callie sighs and rips open the pharmacy bag and gets to work, clearing space on her nightstand for her pill bottles. She tosses out a couple bits of trash and wrappers.
Marie knocks on her half-open door as Callie is squinting at her papers. “Hey, food’s almost here.”
Callie looks up and gives a smile. “Awesome. I don't think I can take any of these on an empty stomach, anyway.”
Marie leans against the doorknob with that signature shrug of hers. “Don’t mind me if I get annoying about taking your meds. Sorry, but not sorry.”
Callie cracks a smile at that and stands up, tossing her papers onto her bed. “Please be as annoying as you want. It’s better to piss me off for my health.” I will get better if it's the last thing I do. Kicking and screaming.
She waits for the food in the living room, planning with Marie on when she’s going to take her meds. Somewhere among the chatter, she thinks about telling Marie the truth. The notion leaves as quickly as it came.
The second person she tells is Pearl. It was an accident, this time.
She and Pearl are lazing about in one of the Hozuki Mansion’s many common rooms. Marina is out, in Pearl’s words, “doing hot girl business shit,” so Pearl and Callie are laying on the floor, a bowl of popcorn between them while they watch some super bad movie Callie was a supporting lead in.
(She looks at herself through the screen and sees the pain shining through every forced smile. How did she play it off so well?)
“Oh my cod, ” Pearl groans, falling back onto the carpet. “This is literally so bad. I’m getting second hand embarrassment. Third hand. Fourth. Tenth.”
“See,” Callie laughs, and pops some corn into her mouth, “you’re embarrassed just watching it. Imagine actually being in it.”
“This is worse than those, like, potato-quality recordings of me singing into my BlueBerry.” Pearl rolls over to watch Callie’s character do the most uncoordinated of leaps into her love interest’s arms. They look at each other, and giggle nervously.
“Wait for it… wait for– there!” Callie smacks her hand on the remote to pause, pointing at the screen. “Look, you can see where the dye’s fading off my tentacles!” Sure enough, the green dye covering Callie’s natural black was bleeding out.
“Oh, my COD!” Pearl laughs. “How much did this movie take to make?”
“Something like a couple million?” she rolls her eyes. “Apparently most of that was spent hiring me. Couldn’t get a good dye to save their life.”
(She remembers getting ink poisoning from the dye. She was stuck in bed for a couple days. She remembers feeling so miserable she didn’t even drink a sip of water or open the blinds.)
“I can tell you’re really trying, too, and that’s the sad part.” Pearl sits back up to grab some popcorn. “It looks like you're the only one that’s, like, having any semblance.of fun.”
“Which is hilarious, because I wasn’t . This set sucked. Like, I’d rather run away again than work for these guys.”
“Again?”
Callie’s smile drops. Her final sentence registers in her head, and in comes a familiar sinking feeling,
Oh, no.
“What d’you mean again?” Pearl asks, “were you one of those kids when you were younger?” she wasn’t being accusatory, just innocently curious. Her eyes still bore holes into Callie.
“Uh, yeah. Something like that…” Callie pointedly doesn’t look at her, and presses play again. She’d rather watch herself half-act and get ink poisoning than elaborate.
Please don't ask, please don't ask, please don't–
“Haaang on, girl.” Pearl pauses the movie again, and does a shimmy in place to face Callie. “I smell gossip. Spill.”
Callie rolls her eyes, shoving down the queasiness in her stomach. “There’s nothing to spill.”
“Whaat?” Pearl shook her head. “Bullshit! There’s always something to spill with a run-away story.”
Callie bites her cheek. “Can we just drop it? I didn’t mean to bring it up.” Why do you sound so excited at sonething so horrible? She wants to ask. Do you not see me as a living person either?
Pearl notes her expression, and her smile fades into a grimace. She pushed too far, and she knew it. “Sorry,” she said, and grabbed for the popcorn. “Sheesh, I guess I needed a switch from this stupid thing.” she gestures at the movie.
Callie forces a smile and rolls her eyes. “We can watch an actuslly good movie. I haven’t been in one yet, but…”
“Bet.” Pearl clicks the movie off and leaps up, stuffing popcorn in her mouth and ambling towards one of the common room’s many DVD racks. “What do you feel like?”
They decided on an old comedy. Callie needed something fun and happy after narrowly missing what would have been a disaster conversation.
Callie doesn’t think her epilepsy medication is doing anything. All her side effects she can attribute to her other pills, but she cant feel any side effects listed with these. She brings this up with her general care doctor next time they meet.
Dr. Carson nods and taps his foot in thought. “Have you had any problems with flashing or bright lights since taking them?”
Callie nods. She remembers having to leave a fancy dinner party because the twinkling chandelier above her and Marie’s table made her lightheaded. “It’s like– yeah, bright lights suck, but I’m used to them. But flashing lights are still…'' She squirms in her seat. “I dunno, I just keep getting all fuzzy and lightheaded, and next thing I know I’m on the floor or passed out on whatever I was sitting on.”
“Mm-hmm.” Dr. Carson nods sympathetically. “And has anyone mentioned any seizing or convulsions?”
Callie thought for a moment. “They just say that I pass out, and sometimes I’m shaking my head or my hands… when I pass out, it’s only for a few seconds. Maybe a minute.”
“I see...” His nurse is typing away at the keyboard on the desk. “And, with these episodes, can you usually feel them coming?”
Callie nods, clicking her heels together where theyre dangled just above the floor. “Yeah… I can just feel this… wave coming over me. Like- you know how you get that bad feeling before a storm? Like that.”
Dr. Carson nods again and thinks. “Your antipsychotics are working?” A nod from Callie, then, “you’re not taking anything for potential anxiety, are you?”
“Nnno. Just my antidepressant.” Callie quirks an eyebrow. “What, you think it’s like… a panic attack?”
“Something like that, but…” Dr. Carson sighs and rubs his forehead. “This isn’t my area of expertise. I think it’ll be safe to take you off the epilepsy meds, but I’m gonna refer you to another doctor for a second opinion.”
Wow, she thinks, I need three doctors to figure out what the shell is wrong with me.
The second doctor, after a couple appointments and a brain scan, gives her a new diagnosis: Psychogenic Non-Epileptic Seizures. Callie only knew one of those words. The way she understood it, it wasn’t a seizure triggered by flashing lights; it was a panic attack that acted like a seizure, with flashing lights being the trigger.
“That just sounds like the same thing,” Callie says.
The doctor shakes her head kindly. “It may seem like it, dear, but the differences are important. It’s like… how Inklings and Octolings are both Inkfish, but distinct from each other. PNES is different fron epilepsy, and should be treated differently.”
On her way back home, she makes a single post on Splitter.
@CALLIE: brains are so fucking weird.
It’s normal to talk to yourself. Callie knows this, almost everyone has a little narrator in their head.
Maybe it’s not normal to see your reflection moving independently of you and have that little narrator voice disagree with everything you say, but apparently that’s what happens when Callie doesn’t take her Crazy Pills (read: her antipsychotic, which she should probably stop calling Crazy Pills).
Callie is chasing her pills down with a strawberry soda when she hears the voice again. I don’t see why we have to stay up here. Your break can’t last forever. You’re going to go back to everyone pushing you around and not caring.
Callie rolls her eyes. “It’s different.”
How? Because we went missing once?
“Yes, actually. They’re going easier on me–"
So they’re just gonna baby us around. Greeeat.
Callie squeezes her eyes shut when she sees her reflection move. “Just… shut it. You don’t have to like it, but we aren’t leaving again.”
Why? Her reflection asks when Callie sits at her desk. Why can’t we leave again? Everything was so much better in Cephalon HQ.
Callie bites her cheek. “No it wasn’t.”
Yes it was. We didn’t have to kill ourselves to get the people down there to respect us.
“Octavio used us. ” Callie opens her laptop. “He didn’t care. He was only keeping us safe because we were useful to him.”
And how do you get treated by the people in Inkopolis trying to use you? Why do you let them?
Callie grabs for her headphones and opens Splatify.
You know I’m right.
“You know you’re wrong.” She clicks around until she finds a dubstep playlist. It’s not her usual cup of tea, but she needs something loud. Her reflection seems to get the message, because she doesn’t pipe up with something witty.
Good. She has work to do, and doesn't need a distraction.
A month or so after, Dr. Wavey has a suggestion. “It seems like you’re seriously struggling with telling the truth to Marie face-to-face. Have you considered writing things out?”
Callie blinks, sipping on her ice water. “What, like, writing a letter?”
Dr. Wavey nods. “Exactly. Maybe with pen and paper, or even typing things out in an email. Have you ever kept a journal or diary?”
“Eh, when I was younger.” Callie chuckles and fondly thinks on her fluffy pink diary with a heart-shaped lock she had when she was 10. “I kept a… well, I did some of those E-Diary thingies a little while back, when I was traveling all over the place, but that was mostly to keep my fans updated. I haven't done anything like a physical diary in years.”
Dr. Wavey chuckles. “I don’t mean to sound generic, but keeping a record of your thoughts is very helpful, especially in cases like yours where you’re keeping such a sensitive secret. And it sounds like there’s no worry of Marie trying to look in a diary; she respects your privacy.”
“Yeaahh…” Callie takes another sip of water. It does sound like a good idea… “You might be onto something.”
“I usually am.” She shares the next laugh with Callie.
She stops by a local bookstore and picks up a hardcover diary. It’s a very pleasing coral pink, with a shimmery silver lock and the key attatched to a necklace. It’s adorable , especially coupled with a new pack of pretty pastel #2 pencils and the cutest set of food-shaped erasers she’d ever seen.
After getting home, she shuts herself in her room and sits at her desk. She starts hammering out a letter. Well, first a letter to her diary.
Dear diary, hi! I’m Callie. Sorry, but I won’t be using you as a diary at first. I need to write a letter to my cousin. I hope you understand!
She turns the page and starts on what she really needs to work on.
Dear Marie; I’m sorry. You deserve so much better than—
No, stop. That sounds too much like a suicide note. She erases and starts again.
Dear Marie; I’ve been keeping a secret for a while that I shouldn't have kept from you. I just didn't want
She pauses. What did she want out of this? Maybe that was too much for the start of the letter.
Dear Marie; I’ve been lying to you. DJ Octavio didn’t kidnap me, he escorted me to Octo Canyon. And as you know, you don’t escort a hostage. I wanted to go, I set the whole thing up.
She pauses again, looking at the words on the page. It still didn’t sound right, even though it’s the truth. She turned the page again.
Dear diary. This “telling the truth” thing is harder than I thought. Thanks for putting up with me.
Why does Callie feel so bad today? She doesn’t know. She can’t focus on it, she has work to do.
She had made her way to Tentakeel Outpost. Even though DJ Octavio was defeated, they still had to make sure he didn’t break out of his snow globe. The Agents all switched shifts, and now it was Callie’s turn.
(She hears DJ Octavio laughing, and something inside her wretches. She wants to laugh with him. She wants to scream.)
Callie swings her Hero Roller over her shoulder as she strolls up to Agent 4 and the snow globe. “Hope nobody’s causing any trouble!” She calls out cheerfully.
Agent 4 turns and shoots her a big toothy smile. “Yo! Not at all!” he says, and snaps his sketchbook shut. “He’s actually been surprisingly well-behaved today.”
“Good.” Callie shoots DJ Octavio a look, the kind she hoped said it better stay that way.
DJ Octavio grumbles and crosses his front arms. “Hey, you’re the one that said I had ta’ stay still for that portrait.”
“Yeah, well you didn’t even beg me a million times to let you out. So, mleh.” Agent 4 strolls to his backpack on the bench. “Just take the compliment, dude.”
DJ Octavio rolls his eyes. “Hard to, when you’re complimentin’ me like a guppy.”
Callie bites her cheek. She really wants him to stop talking. She turns to Agent 4. “Got any work to go to?” She chirps.
“Unfortunately,” Agent 4 sighs. “I’m gonna be on Marooner’s Bay again. So help me cod if our Splatling doesn’t know how to act…”
“Eww.” Callie shakes her head. “You know you don’t have to work there, right? Marie’s like, two steps away from paying you to sit there and breathe.”
Agent 4 snickers. “Oh yeah. Trust me, I’ve noticed the walking around money she’s been hiding in my backpack. I mean it though, I’m fine. I’ll let you know if I change my mind.”
“Please.” Callie extends her arm for a hug, which he embraces. “Especially with your new roomie, just let us know if things get too stringy.”
“For sure.” His phone chimes from his backpack, and he groans and steps back. “Okayy, okay. I gotta’ stop stalling, or I’ll be the one getting yelled at. Who’s taking the next shift?”
“Three.”
“Eugh, that brat,” DJ Octavio snarks. Callie tamps down a scream in her chest.
“Alright, sounds good. I’ll see you, One!” Agent 4 swings his backpack over his shoulder and waves on his jog to the kettle.
“Later, Callum!” Callie sings back, beaming and waving until he disappers.
Now she’s alone. With him. It shouldn’t bother her this much.
“Well, at least Three ain’t here yet.” DJ. Octavio shifts in his globe, trying to find a comfortable position. “I can actually have some peace n’ quiet. Well, hah! Maybe it's not quiet, you’re pretty loud. Gotta’ turn that volume down, Cal.”
Callie’s pacing towards him, feeding ink into her Roller. She feels a jitter in her chest, the kind that makes her tighten her grip. He doesn’t even notice her, nor the wild look in her eye.
What are you doing? She asks herself. She doesn’t answer.
“Say, is it dinner yet? I know lunch was an hour or so ago, but y’all don’t eat enough. ‘Specially you , lil’ miss no-meat-on-your-arms. How d’you even carry that—”
He’s cut off by a sudden SLAM against the base of the snow globe. He yelps and scrambles along the curved wall, cringing as far away as possible as he can fron the source—
Callie is glaring at him, her Roller planted firmly into the dent it made in the base. Pink ink is splattered across the impact point, the glass, and along the concrete. “Let’s get one thing clear,” she says lowly and evenly, venom dripping from her tone. “You are not going to say a fucking word while I’m around. Got it?”
Octavio, wide-eyed and cornered, can only nod in agreement.
“Good. Now shut up.”
She stalks away from him, dragging her Roller behind her and letting it leave a dangerous trail.
She sits down on the bench, with the DJ out of sight. She doesn’t even hear a shuffle from the snow globe. Her eyes are focused on the ink that splattered onto her shoes.
Why did you do that? She asks herself. She can’t answer.
When she gets home, she realizes: she forgot her antidepressant this morning.
Callie likes scrolling around on SeaTube for entertainment. Especially these past few months where she isnt quite ready to get back to the busy life of an idol, and all she has going are a few emails and interviews. She has a lot of free time, which she can appreciate to get used to her medicine.
She’s just finished an hour-long retrospective on a video game she’s never played. She isn’t scrolling for long before a video in her Recommended page catches her eye.
‘How Inkopolis’ Star Idol Vanished Overnight’
The thumbnail is a dark, monochrome scatter, a missing persons flyer with her smiling face framing it and glowing red. It’s fourty minutes long.
What bullshit. You hardly told anyone anything about what happened. You didn’t even have a good cover story for the police.
She decides to watch it anyway. She’s going to regret it in an hour, but she doesn’t care. Her stomach churns as the smiling host of the channel delivers a sponsored segment for a brand of headphones.
None of the details are right. If anything, it’s nothing but fourty minutes of speculation on what “really happened.”
“As much as the outlets insist it was a freak accident, I believe there’s something more to this story,” the host says, leaning back in her chair. “After all, how can someone like Callie go missing with nobody even knowing her last location? Where was Marie in all this? Her agents, her producers?”
Yeah, where was Marie? A voice in her head snarks.
She should stop watching, but she can’t get her finger to pause the video. Her breaths are ragged, almost drowning out the video.
“If you ask me…” Who’s asking you? “ ...it’s too strange to just accept this as a kidnapping. Obviously, Callie’s super kidnap-able. There’s plenty of people who want to , but someone who can ? And not get caught? And why would Callie not press charges?”
Another wave of panic crashes over her body. Her vision is blurring and tears are splattering onto her phone screen.
“All this points to something more, and things are more suspicious by the day. Neither Squid Sister has made a comment on the incident since it happened, and everyone seems a little too willing to act like nothing happened. Is her kidnapper still out there? Maybe Callie herself has a sinister role in—”
She finally musters enough to turn her phone off and throw it onto the edge of her bed. Her head is swimming as she gasps in and breathes out a sob. She can’t even parse through everything that bothered her, her thoughts are going by too fast.
She can feel hands holding her by the arms, by the wrists. She can hear herself screaming, she can feel her knuckles bruising and splitting under the impact of shattered mirrors and unmoving concrete walls. Her hearts are pounding out of time, her eyes are burning .
She shouldn’t be bothered. It’s a stupid cash-grab SeaTube video that didn’t even get the details right. Who cares what some clueless bitch thinks?
Apparently, she does.
Callie wants to get onstage again. It’s been so long already, she feels her soul itching to be among the lights and fans again. She knows where she blongs; onstage in front of thousands.
“Are you sure?” Marie asks when Callie brings it up. “I mean, I’m not opposed, but…”
“I’m positive. Like, two-negatives-make-a-positive positive. Call me a ray of sunshine the way I’m so positive.”
Marie snorts and rolls her eyes. “Only if you stop saying positive . You already made it sound like not a word.”
Callie giggles, crossing one leg over the other from her seat on the couch. “I mean it, though. I wanna start doing stuff again. The therapy’s working, the meds are working, I wanna get working!”
A few mugs clink in the cupboard as Marie searches for her favorite one. “It’s only been a couple months…”
“Only a couple months?” It’s been six, since she came back. “This half-year’s felt like a million! I’m ready, I know it. I could go onstage right now. RIGHT NOW, in my jammies and all!”
Marie laughs at that. “Okay, how much Adderal did you take today?”
“Irrelevant.” Callie flips over on the couch and throws her arms over the back to look at Marie finally find her favorite blue mug. “C’mon, Marie. I miss being onstage with yoou.”
Marie pouts at her. “Aww, I miss it too! I just wanna make sure you’re not rushing stuff. What about those panic attacks? Those have gotten better, right?”
“Oh, yeah.” Callie waves a hand dismissively. “Ever since I got the right meds, yeah. I mean– duh, not completely.gone, but I think being hyped for a show can drown out any panic. You know?”
(She is NOT telling Marie she had a panic attack last night because of a stupid SeaTube video. She needs this show.)
Marie relents and pours herself a cup of coffee. “Alriiight, I guess we can figure something out.”
“Yesss!” Callie pumps a victory fist in the air amd flops back onto the couch. “I am going to make a setlist that will be so awesome. It’s gonna be great.”
“It won’t be a tour,” Marie decides then, coming into the living room with her coffee. “Just one little show to get back into the swing of things.”
Callie nods. It beats nothing. “It’s been so long since we’ve had a little show, anyway. It’s been sold-out stadiums for years.”
“Exactly. We’ll ask around for a good local venue and take it from there.”
Callie instantly starts on a setlist the second she can open her note-taking app. Obviously we’re playing City of Color. Ink Me Up, definitely. Is it a Squid Sisters concert without Calamari Inkantation? I don’t think so. Then I can take the stage for Bomb Rush Blush—
She stops. Before she can settle on the thought, she deletes her solo off the setlist.
Mmmaybe we can just go with something we played for our last tour. Maybe even surprise ‘em with a song weve never played before. Something off an old album.
Yeah, that sounds better.
Callie’s never been more ready for a show in her whole entire life. Okay, maybe their first stadium show was pretty damn exciting, but only a little moreso than this.
She and Marie asked around and found a venue a little ways away from Inkopolis Square that had a max capacity of 2000 people. Tickets sold out in two minutes.
In the greenroom, Callie was putting on her gloves. It had been so long since she got to wear her show clothes, and she felt right at home in the velvet black and shimmery pink. She adjusted her headpiece, tightened her bow– ow, too tight!– she loosened her bow.
Marie is smirking at her from her spot on the couch. She’s casually sat popping chocolate candies into her mouth and scrolling on Splitter. “Come on, Cal, the show hasn't started yet. Save that energy.”
“I can’t!” Callie flapped her hands giddily. “We haven’t done a show like this in for- ever! And... I had a Beast Energy earlier. No calming down!”
Marie rolled her eyes and tilted her head over the back of the couch. “As if you need a Beast Energy. You wake up with that.”
Callie giggled. “Okay, okay. Point. But still! Aack!” Another compulsive flapping of her hands. “I’m excited!”
“I can tell,” Marie laughed, then scooted over and patted the spot next to her. “Now come here and chill out. We still have ten minutes.”
Callie did a hop onto the couch, and she was sure she heard something break, but didn’t settle on it. She leaned on Marie’s shoulder and whipped out her own phone, typing out a quick Splitter post.
@CALLIE: TEN MINUTES!!!!!!!! i know everyone out there is excited but i dont think anyone is as excited for the show as ME!!!
The room shook with a wave of bass from the stage. The music they played to keep the crowd entertained was definitely doing its job. She gets lost in the idea of their own music buzzing through those speakers… she almost wants to burst into song right then and there, but she remembers Marie’s advice and keeps it chill.
The stage tech knocks on the door, then.opens it. “Squid Sisters?” They call. “You’re on in five. We’re taking places.”
“Eeeee!” Callie leaps off the couch, causing Marie to topple on the couch. Oops, looks like she was leaning on you too… “I’m ready. Im SO ready!”
“Me too.” Marie’s excitement was palpable theough her smile, but Marie as ever, she kept it calm. “What are we waiting for?” She grabbed a final chocolate candy before standing up and brushing out her dress.
Callie found it hard to keep pace with the stage tech and Marie– she wanted to bolt out onstage and dive into the awaiting crowd headfirst. No, nono. Keep it professional. You’re chill, you’re collected. You’re totally awesome and cool and wooowww okay calm down, don’t get lightheaded. Chill it.
They take their places onstage, dark due to the curtains being drawn and blocking out the spotlights. Both Sisters are fitted with a mic pack and an earpiece, given quick directions on where to stand, and on the 30 second mark the tech crew scattered into the wings. The music stops, the fans let a ripple of excitement wash over them, and…
The curtains open. Pink and green lights fizzle into her face.
Callie takes a look at the screaming faces and arms outstretched, and promptly collapses. She blinks awake, and she’s in the green room.
What happened?
The first person she sees is Marie. The next is the EMT she’s talking to.
What did you do?
Marie turns to her, breathing out a sigh. “Oh my cod, you’re awake.”
Something's wrong.
Callie mumbles, trying to muster the will to speak. “M-Marie? What happened?” She shifts, and realizes shes laying down on the couch. She looks up again, and sees the tears pooling in her cousin’s eyes.
“You passed out,” Marie explains, and comes to her side. “The curtains werent even open for long.” She helps Callie sit up, and Callie notices the way her breath hitches. She’s scared.
Callie blinked, eyes widening in alarm. “Wait, it was just–” she swallows. “I-It’s only been a minute, right?”
Tense silence. Then, Marie says, “Callie, you’ve been out for twenty minutes.”
Her hearts sink into her stomach, then jump into her throat. “Wh-what? No, that’s not– that can’t be right.” A look at Marie’s face tells her is. All I did was blink! How has it been twenty minutes!? “What about the crowd? A-Are they still waiting?”
Marie shook her head. “You can’t go back out there, and neither will I. We sent them home with a refund and some free merch.”
Callie digs her nails into her leggings. “B-But I…” I just ruined the whole show.
“Look, I know how–”
“How are you feeling now?” The EMT asked, accidentally cutting Marie off but he didn’t seem to notice. “Any pain, lightheadedness…?
“Uhm…” Callie huffed, grimacing through the queasiness in her stomach. “Um… I think I’m fine. My head isn’t hurting…” She rubs her arm when she feels a sting. “I think my elbow. My stomach kinda feels weird. But, uh, other than that… I feel alright?” Other than feeling like jumping off the roof of this fucking venue.
The EMT nodded. “Alright, that’s good. Marie mentioned you have a history with pseudoseizures?”
Callie nodded. “I-I take meds for them, though. I didn’t forget or anything…”
“And you havent felt anything else off today?”
Callie shook her head. “N-No, I’ve been nothing but hyped for this show all day.” She leans into Marie’s side for a hug. “And, look– Marie, I’d tell you if I was feeling bad. You know that. I wouldn’t have gone on stage if I didn't think I was ready.”
Except you knew you weren’t. Whatever. I’ll add it to the list of things I haven’t told her.
“Accidents happen sometimes,” the EMT said, with a sad frown and cross of his arms. “This one just unfortunately happened to fall on the worst day it could have fallen on.”
“Maybe it was the stage lights,” Marie mused, “or-or maybe everyone’s cameras?”
Callie bites her cheek and rubs her forearms. “It shouldn’t bother me, though? I’m fine…” Or do you just want to be fine?
The EMT takes a couple vitals, asks her a couple questions, and decides she doesn’t need a hospital visit and can go home. Callie nods and floats through the whole experience, finding reassurance in Marie’s presence but little else.
When the EMT leaves, she checks her phone and sees it blown up with DMs and missed phone calls. She turns her phone off. Like a zombie, she goes through the motions of changing out of her show clothes and into a more comfortable sweater and leggings. Marie had already packed her things up for her.
On the way home, Marie keeps side-eyeing her from the driver’s seat. She can feel her worried gaze, even though she’s staring out the window.
“I’m fine, seriously,” Callie mutters, even though she doesn’t sound like it.
Marie pauses, slowing down at a red light before it turns green. “No, you’re not,” she says, “I know you really wanted to be onstage today. I know how bad you wanted this, and… I’m sorry it backfired.”
Tears prick the backs of Callie’s eyes. She gently digs her fingers into her sleeves.
“It’s not like you could have expected it, anyway,” Marie goes on. “Don’t beat yourself up about it, please?”
I already am. She just sighs in response, and swallows back a sob in her throat.
She’s right, her reflection says through the side mirror. You can’t blame yourself for wanting to go back to how things were.
The sun has already set, taking all the yellow light with it but leaving a blue glow over everything. Did it rain earlier?
“I just… feel bad for getting everyone’s hopes up,” Callie eventually says at a yielded turn. “I told everyone I was doing fine, I was getting better, I was ready to just… be a person again. But I’m not.” She sighs and tries to not cry.
“Callie…” Marie swallows, stopping at a glaring red light. “You are getting better, you know. Tonight was just an accident. And… maybe you were so excited about the show you were missing the signs that something was up. Or maybe you ignored them on purpose and hoped they went away. I don’t blame you for either.” She turns to face Callie, who still won’t look at her. “If I were you, I’d be doing it too.”
Callie buries her eyes into her arms, feeling the tears start to flow. “I just don’t wanna deal with this anymore,” she whines.
Marie bites the inside of her cheek. “I know,” she simply replies. The light turns green.
Callie tries to stifle her crying, but once she starts she can’t stop. Just let it out, you haven’t cried in a while, her reflection soothes.
Maybe you were right. Maybe it was better underground.
Maybe, maybe not. It doesn’t matter, it’s not like we’re going anywhere.
She cries the rest of the way home.
By the time they get home, Callie’s calm enough. She still leans on Marie’s shoulder on their way up the stairs, squinting at a headache that’s formed at her temples.
“Do you need anything?” Marie asks once they step inside. She keeps an arm around Callie’s shoulders on their way into the living room, tossing the keys onto the coffee table.
Callie picks at a tag of skin hanging off her thumb. “D’we have ice cream?” she asks hoarsely. Sheesh, her throat is sore. Now that the breakdown was over, she wanted to glue the broken pieces together with ice cream. It always worked.
Marie hums, quirking her mouth. “I think so… we still have soda, too. I can make you a float?”
Callie blows a pitiful raspberry. “You never make ‘em right,” she teases. “Never enough sprinkles.”
Marie cracks a smile at that. “You’re not supposed to have sprinkles in an ice cream float!”
“Yeah, for you .” Callie grins back and walks to the kitchen. “Ooh, do we– we don’t have any of the funfetti ice cream, do we?” She throws open the freezer, finding just a tub of vanilla. “Booo.”
“And I think you used the last of the sprinkles.” Marie comes behind her, opening the cupboard above the stove. “Oh. No, there’s still some left.”
“Yesss.” Callie grabs the ice cream, then threw open the fridge to grab a strawberry soda. The prospect of a tasty treat instantly perked her up, just a bit.
“Knock yourself out,” Marie says, leaning back on the counter by the stove. “I’ll kill whatever ice cream you don't eat.”
Callie snorts. “Leaving you just a spoonful. A single spoon of ice cream.”
“Hey!” Marie gasps, feigning hurt. “I thought I was your favorite cousin!”
“Yup. You are.” Callie plops a hefty scoop into her glass cup. “Which is why I’m leaving you a spoonful instead of just eating the whole thing.”
Marie rolls her eyes. “Ohh, I get it. Thank you for your generosity.” They both laugh, and Callie feels a weight lift off her shoulders.
Maybe she isn’t okay, but she will be. And in the meantime, she’ll be okay enough.