Showdown

“Your friend’s fucking disgusting, you know that?” Chloe muttered. The silver noise in her head was beginning to itch, and the last thing she was going to put up with right now was more of this conceited pink bitch’s gloating. “I think she made me barf a little bit. Jesus Christ.”

The pink-haired girl—Stephie, was it?—had chosen to exit the room and wait in the hallway with her while the room aired out, as if that would help. Hah. Stench billowed out from the room like a fetid horror, and Chloe was surprised the other hotel customers weren’t shrieking in complaint yet. That this Stephanie was glaring at her as if she were even more detestable than the fog of stench, made her want to laugh.

“I... didn’t come all the way out here just to give you a place to stay,” Stephanie said slowly, uncomfortably dropping the hand covering her face so she could speak freely. “I came… to talk to you.”

“Fuck off, then,” Chloe waved dismissively. “I’m in no mood for whatever bullshit sob-stories Brian’s been feeding you. Go on, leave, get the fuck out of here—or I’m gonna call the cops and have you removed. I don’t have to stand being fucking harassed by you guys all weekend.”

“Why are you like this?” Stephanie stepped into the middle of the corridor, looking confused rather than concerned. “I don’t understand. At all.”

“You think I want to be here, want to be dragged into more shit by that asshole?” Chloe gave her an incredulous look and then let out a bitter laugh. “Hah. No. I’m not doing this for him.”

“Then... why?” Stephanie looked more confused now than ever. “I don’t understand. Why can’t you just… leave him alone? Why did you steal his phone, what has he done to you to make you do all of this?”

“Listen, Brian’s not a nice guy, you stupid fucking cunt—you don’t know jack shit about him like I do,” Chloe shook her head at Stephanie’s apparent naivete. “He’d scream at me, he hit me, he made every minute of being with him a living hell because he takes out all of his little inadequacies on me. I’ve just been trying to spare you from that.

“But, I thought—maybe I was just being emotional, that maybe I was part of the problem, that I should give him the benefit of the doubt, another chance. Considering what’s happened... I’m not just making decisions for myself, you know. Stupid of me, really. Thinking he’d ever change, thinking it could ever be more than what this is. He doesn’t give a damn about anyone but himself. But, you already know what I’m saying is true, don’t you?”

“No,” Stephanie flatly refuted her, not willing to budge on that a single inch. “We don’t.”

“We?” Chloe snorted, changing her angle of attack. “You don’t have any fucking ‘we,’ you’re not a magical little team of love and friendship. You think Emily or that other whore gives a fuck about you? She’s probably back there fucking his brains out right now without you.”

“I hope she is,” Stephanie’s blue gaze didn’t waver to Chloe’s provocations. “She’s been kept waiting long enough.”

“Oh, is that what your thing is?” Chloe chuckled. “What, cuckoldry? You get off on someone else sleeping with your man? Is that the only way you really fit into that little group?”

“I fit in where I belong,” Stephanie shook her head with a shrug, indifferent to her baiting. “We care about each other, and that’s all that matters.”

Still giving her a perplexed look, Stephanie narrowed her eyes at her, and all at once, those irritating silver slivers inching throughout Chloe’s mind seemed to intensify in an unsettling way. A crawling, prickling sensation that raked through her brain, leaving a migraine to bloom in its wake.

“...You’re a part of this, too,” Stephanie realized. Her blue eyes went wide, and the silvery sensation subsided all at once. “I just… didn’t want it to be true. It doesn’t seem fair. You stole one of the lanyards… of course. What did you do with the harem charm?”

“Oh, right. The harem charm—was that your little rallying symbol? For his little harem?” Chloe laughed. “Good. I snapped it in half, ditched the pieces in the fucking street gutter. S’gone now.”

“...You’re lying,” Stephanie frowned. “You were angry.... furious. You threw it somewhere right after touching it, didn’t you? Hated the way it made you feel. It might be in the pool area back at the other hotel—or, maybe in the pool itself.”

“Nice try, spirit detective,” Chloe snorted, rolling her eyes. “Nope, it’s fucking smashed and gone forever. Sorry.”

“It’s not,” Stephanie shook her head. “I’d be able to tell.”

“Uh, okay?” Chloe grimaced, looking at Stephanie with disgust. She could hear the faint ding of the elevator stopping on their floor, and she hoped no random bystander was about to interrupt by passing through. “So, here I was attempting to reason with you, but it turns out you’re an actual crazy person. Cool, color me surprised. Do your tard handlers know where you are, little girl? Are you dangerous when you’re not on your meds, do I need to contact some authority somewhere?”

“If anyone’s goin’ to the loony bin, it’s you,” Emily griped, trotting around the corner where the elevators were and striding towards them with a bag in her hand. “‘Specially after that crazy little outburst of yours over at Brian’s, hah. Where’s Rebecca?”

“Bathing the beast,” Chloe answered with undisguised disgust.

“She’s too good to you,” Emily retorted, slinging the bag forward none too gently for Chloe to catch. “There. Two and a half air-fresheners; one of ‘em got smashed to pieces by somethin’ or other in the back of her car. Still better than nothing. Yeah, you’re welcome.”

“They’re Rebecca’s fresheners, why would I thank you?” Chloe rolled her eyes. “You’re such a fucking child.”

“Stop, stop,” Stephanie spoke up, furrowing her brow. “Why are you being mean to her? She’s helping you. Can you really not feel any connection?”

“Emily, take little Miss spirit detective here and slink on back to that shithead Brian, won’t you?” Chloe said. “She’s fucking creepy. You’re both fucking creepy, you all deserve each other. Congratulations on being a group of little sickos together. With your little fucking harem.”

“Brian’s not a shi—we, we’re not—why, why would you even say that?” Stephanie’s voice was rising. “Why are you being like this?”

“Uh, because Brian makes me sick?” Chloe elaborated with a sneer. “How the fuck am I supposed to feel about him cheating on me, after everything I did for him?”

“Except it wasn’t cheating,” Emily retorted. “‘Cause you two were broken up?”

“You know that it was cheating,” Chloe glowered, staring Emily down. “And that we weren’t, not really.”

“Do I, now?” Emily’s eyebrow quirked at her in an instigating fashion.

“Brian thought you left him,” Stephanie tried to explain. “He didn’t see it as you two still being together.”

“You can stay the fuck out of this,” Chloe scowled. “It’s not any of your business, slut.”

“It is, though. If I can just…” Pursing her lips thoughtfully, Stephanie closed her eyes and raised both hands, palms facing Chloe and fingers outstretched like she was channeling some powerful mysterious force.

Is she… is she fucking serious? Chloe’s jaw fell open at the girl’s ridiculous pose. It looked like a blatant case of chuunibyou, the infamous eighth-grader syndrome where reality was suppressed with childish delusions and fantasy. It was known—mockingly—to be an affliction among young otaku, but Chloe had never expected to see such a cringeworthy existence in real-life. Not even at AnimeCon.

“Uh… Steph?” Even Emily looked at a loss as to what her friend was doing.

Of course Brian would target a psychotic chuuni girl with an infantile mind, Chloe felt a new wave of repulsion wash through her. Disgusting. She’ll think she’s in LOVE, that what they have is special. How fucking embarrassing is that? She’s not mentally developed properly, but she’s still here at AnimeCon to shake her ass for thirsty guys and get all that attention she craves. Fuck, I hate her so much.

Then, those needles of shivering silver returned, standing up at rigid attention throughout Chloe’s mind like someone was roughly scraping a magnet along the outside of her skull. No, not like a magnet—it was something hot. An approaching pink glow, some horrifying ethereal thing that burned. It burned, and as the temperature rose, those heated shards of reflective color lodged in her brain writhed back and forth at dizzying speed, sawing across her synapses like glittering teeth. Chloe gritted her teeth through the sudden pain, clutching her forehead with both hands in confusion.

What... the fuck? Is she doing that? No... no. That’s not possible. She’s just so FUCKING ANNOYING that it feels like she’s about to give me an aneurysm.

“I... can’t get through to you,” Stephanie sighed, blinking her eyes open in confusion and lowering her hands in defeat. The raw pain started to fade, the silvery splinters falling silent once again. “You’re… broken, somehow.”

“I’m broken?” Chloe laughed mockingly, massaging the lingering pain that had blossomed at her temples with her fingertips. Agggh. “You—you goddamn fucking mental case. What was that supposed to be, huh? Your weeaboo mystic sage arts?”

“I’m sorry,” Stephanie sighed, looking honestly distressed. “It was supposed to be an opportunity. I might have been the only one able to give you one.”

“What the actual fuck?” Chloe blinked, ready to laugh.

“I can feel you… but, it’s all wrong, somehow,” Stephanie gave her a pitying look. “All I’m getting is… noise, static. Hostility. You’re broken.”

“Hostility? Why the fuck do you think I’m like this?” Chloe snarled. “You think I want this? Brian made me this way, and then ran off to fuck convention weirdos soon as I got the tiniest bit moody about all of this. He makes me sick. Literally; every single morning, I’ve been throwing up. Did he really not tell you anything?”

“...Tell us what?” Stephanie asked, matching Chloe’s hard stare with her own.

“That I’m fucking pregnant,” Chloe hissed, drawing herself up to her full intimidating height.

“Of course Brian wouldn’t tell anyone!” Emily blurted out right away, interrupting what should have been Stephanie’s stunned silence. “How would he even know about it in the first place?”

What. Chloe froze, turning in place to stare in disbelief at Emily.

“What, did you think I was actually gonna go and tell him that, just ‘cause you told me to?” Emily laughed, a maniacal gleam in her eyes. “I bet you were just creaming yourself over the irony of me bein’ the one to sucker-punch him with the news. Well, guess what? I didn’t tell him shit. I didn’t tell him shit! Gave him your badge, told him to forget about you, that you two were over, told him to come have a blast here at the con. Without you—and, you know why? Because fuck you, Chloe.”

He doesn’t know?! He doesn’t EVEN KNOW?! Murderous rage welled up within her, and Chloe felt her chest rise and fall heavily with the deep breaths she was forced to take. If Brian doesn’t even fucking know I’m supposed to be pregnant, how the fuck was all of this going to work, you stupid fucking little pissant! Do you realize what you’ve done?!

Brian was naturally inclined to look out for people, he had an innate sense of responsibility that ensured the news—and her subsequent departure while fraught with emotion—would end up completely binding him to her. But, he doesn’t even fucking know. All the carefully calculated tension building up to this, all the stupid pointless fights I started as groundwork—instead, now he just thought it was all just a normal break up. Emily. What. Have you. Fucking. Done.

“How could you,” Chloe stepped forward—she wanted to lunge in and crush the smug little goblin’s throat, wanted to so badly her fingers were tingling with readiness. She’d never expected a blabbermouth like Emily would be able to keep from spilling such a secret to everybody, let alone to Brian—no wonder their group of friends seemed so indifferent to the situation!

“How dare you,” Chloe trembled with fury. “When Brian finds out. When he finds out that you kept it from him. He’ll hate you, Emily. He’ll hate you. Hate you.”

“If there was even a chance you were pregnant, and that it was Brian’s, I’d have worried,” Emily gave her a devilish grin. The smug little runt backed up, tugging Stephanie’s arm along with her, as Chloe advanced another furious step.

“You don’t know what the fuck you’re talking about,” Chloe spat.

“Let me guess—you were gonna try to say maybe a condom broke?” Emily snorted. “All this time with Brian, and you never fuckin’ figured out that you never actually got him off the whole way? Did he even talk about it with you?”

“His fucking impotence isn’t my problem!” Chloe screamed—but now, in actuality, her mind was racing. Because, it did pose a problem—and, a big one. She’d laughed off his manhood worries some months ago when he’d brought it up, put it out of her mind as more of that typical male insecurity, just another amusing tidbit of ammunition to use against him in the future.

Surely he came SOMETIMES?! Looking back, she realized that might not have been the case. They hadn’t had intercourse often, and when they did—she delighted in insisting he stop after a handful of minutes, claiming she was starting to feel sore. The idea that he get off, that he would achieve ejaculatory orgasm from intimacy with her had always been utterly disgusting to her. But, he never came, EVER?

“Brian… is not impotent,” Stephanie said, with a little too much conviction in her voice. The shy little weeb in the dorky overalls looked dazzled by the turnabout of events, as if she wasn’t sure if she should jump into the argument herself or burst into incredulous laughter. “He’s not at all.”

“Right?!” Emily cheerfully agreed.

Can’t call Brian, I have his phone, Chloe’s frantic thoughts raced upon realizing the magnitude of her blunder. I should call the cops on them—Emily and Stephie LOOK young enough, I’ll say I was worried they were underage, that he was grooming them. The other girl’s probably a prostitute, anyways! Or maybe I can ring in noise complaints about them all night to his hotel front desk. Something, ANYTHING.

“Chloe… stop, just... stop,” Stephanie warned her, a serious look in her eyes. “You’re broken. This isn’t going to—”

“Steph, let’s just go,” Emily pulled at Stephanie’s arm again. “We’re just wasting our night talking to her.”

“I’m broken?” Chloe repeated with a small laugh, feeling that maddening rage dance just behind her eyes. She felt the bag of air fresheners she’d caught earlier drop to the floor. “I’m broken?”

Silver daggers were now freely slicing bloody fissures across her mind, eviscerating each tangled thought as they appeared and cutting gory swathes of destruction across her calculated composure. The pain was stark, but it no longer bothered her—she couldn’t even smell the stench that was permeating the hotel corridor, anymore.

Her slap connected with Stephanie’s face before the idiot could even react, the sheer force behind Chloe’s swing knocking her glasses clean off and sending that provoking pink-haired whore tumbling into the wall. Blow after blow followed as Chloe closed in, connecting with the side of Stephanie’s face twice, cuffing her ear, hitting the side of her neck—all before Chloe even realized what she was doing. The realization didn’t stop her, however, and she was just preparing to grab fistfuls of that hateful pink hair when Emily bodily tackled her to the floor.

FortySixtyFou