I set down my pen, down onto the paper. I had been working on writing the finances, as we needed to have a monthly budget, for the gang.
There was a knock at the door. God, who could it be at this hour? Everyone reasonable is in bed by now...
"Come in," I mumble, barely looking up. There was no need to, most people that would come to me in the middle of the night already knew me, and so I had no reason to be afraid. I only looked up when I heard barely any footsteps.
Standing there, in all her blonde glory, was Irene, in a dress one might call whorish, but that we might have called normal. The dress was red, and from the look on her face, you might've thought that the dress burned her, like a flame. Her hair, that had been long the last time I saw her, now hung around her chin, cut choppily, almost as if someone had taken a knife to her hair. She looked like she had been through hell and back, and it scared me.
"The fuck happened, Calla? He hurt you again?" I get up, walking around my desk to get a closer look at her. When we stand side by side, I'm taller than her, by quite a bit. She looks younger than me, and she is. We both have the marks to prove it.
She shakes her head, and I raise my eyebrow. "Doll, don't lie to me. The only reason you ever look like this is cause Jonathan's had his hands on you again, and I swear, if he has, I'll kill that-"
She cuts me off. "He didn't hurt me, Elizabeth. I did my hair myself, and this dress..I chose it. It was tonight's disguise...I killed someone. Again. It'll be in the papers tomorrow...I-I just...I didn't know who to tell. So..I figured I would tell you."
"Who was it?"
"Abigale Moore.." she mumbles the name, and for a split second I almost hope she's lying.
"..you fucking killed the best friend of a Pinkerton? Irene, you damn idiot..she's gonna hate us more than she already does!" I'm stark mad, now, raving.
"I..I thought..she would be there..I just wanted to see her again.." Irene looks down, and for a minute, I almost pity her. She's blinded by love, the fool she is.
"Irene...doll, you can't just up and fucking murder people because you want to see a girl again. Don't you see, she didn't love you? She ran, she left you, she left our world. Doll...I know you loved her. But..she left. People who love you, truly...they stay," I'm trying to be gentle, truly I am.
Irene looks at me, eyes glistening with tears. Fuck, I made her cry. Damnit, damnit, damnit. She looks down, then. "She..she made me feel loved, Elizabeth. And I know you don't get that, you don't, but...she made me feel wanted. She..she made me want to stay. I loved her...she loved me, I swear."
I come closer to her, and take her in my arms, holding her close. "Irene...she was a Pinkerton. She wanted to kill you...she would've, if you hadn't hurt that guy...please, don't try and convince yourself, darling. I don't want you to get hurt.."
She mumbles something into my chest, something that sounds vaguely like an "alright", though, knowing her, it could be anything.
I hold her, for a while, that night. We don't talk, we just sit there, her in my arms as I sit on my desk. I so desperately want to take away all of her heartbreak, and just...help her.
I can't
ns 15.158.61.8da2
