[ It's only Gideon. Nobody else stares out of those eyes, no long-lost dead woman. They burn with a fury that, for all its anger, is still alive.
The idea that Gideon's mum ever had anything as loving as custody is laughable, and Gideon returns that thin smile with a smirk of her own. It's a sneer worthy of the Reverend Daughter; Gideon would like to think that she'd be proud of her. But she knows better. ]
You talk about who you are. All the time. You're God, not my dad.
[ Now they're clear. Now they're on the same page, and it feels almost like equal footing, maybe. God kneels, and she stands, and she can imagine their dynamic reversed. She should kill him, while it lasts.
But, fuck, what are you? "Bomb" is a four-letter word, a single syllable that should be so easy to say. Gideon presses her lips together and everything, but the sound doesn't come. It's lodged somewhere in her throat, blocked by the memory of a forehead pressed against hers. By little circles, and red eyes, and the smell of burning rice. The weight of a lizard. The sweetness of honey. A second-place trophy, taped together just for her. She thinks of her calloused hands held by smaller ones, and she knows that when she digs through her pocket, the sea will have returned to her a set of silver-winged pins. ]
I'm their sister.
[ Saltwater laps against Gideon's ankles, burning where she cut herself on the rocks. This isn't what her flesh is for. This isn't how it ends. ]
I'm a cavalier.
[ The pressure on the Lord's holy neck relents. Gideon pulls the knife away, and for the first time, it does not belong to her God, or to a ghost, or to her parents. It is hers, to use as she sees fit, and honestly?
He's so not worth it. ]
But not like you care, right? So here's what you need to know: I'm done with your shit.
[ Gideon straightens up. She sheathes her knife. She thinks about kicking him into the sea, but even she knows that would ruin the dramatic, fuck-you tension. Instead, she turns away, waiting to hear if he's got anything to say about it before she starts walking home. ]
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The idea that Gideon's mum ever had anything as loving as custody is laughable, and Gideon returns that thin smile with a smirk of her own. It's a sneer worthy of the Reverend Daughter; Gideon would like to think that she'd be proud of her. But she knows better. ]
You talk about who you are. All the time. You're God, not my dad.
[ Now they're clear. Now they're on the same page, and it feels almost like equal footing, maybe. God kneels, and she stands, and she can imagine their dynamic reversed. She should kill him, while it lasts.
But, fuck, what are you? "Bomb" is a four-letter word, a single syllable that should be so easy to say. Gideon presses her lips together and everything, but the sound doesn't come. It's lodged somewhere in her throat, blocked by the memory of a forehead pressed against hers. By little circles, and red eyes, and the smell of burning rice. The weight of a lizard. The sweetness of honey. A second-place trophy, taped together just for her. She thinks of her calloused hands held by smaller ones, and she knows that when she digs through her pocket, the sea will have returned to her a set of silver-winged pins. ]
I'm their sister.
[ Saltwater laps against Gideon's ankles, burning where she cut herself on the rocks. This isn't what her flesh is for. This isn't how it ends. ]
I'm a cavalier.
[ The pressure on the Lord's holy neck relents. Gideon pulls the knife away, and for the first time, it does not belong to her God, or to a ghost, or to her parents. It is hers, to use as she sees fit, and honestly?
He's so not worth it. ]
But not like you care, right? So here's what you need to know: I'm done with your shit.
[ Gideon straightens up. She sheathes her knife. She thinks about kicking him into the sea, but even she knows that would ruin the dramatic, fuck-you tension. Instead, she turns away, waiting to hear if he's got anything to say about it before she starts walking home. ]