A Scarlett Ruin

Chapter Nine

Scarlett didn't go to her classes on Monday morning. It seemed like an impossible task to climb from bed, worthy of Mount Everest to be sure, let alone dragging herself to the showers for the first time since Friday morning. Instead she just burrowed deeper into her blankets. Her face felt as if it was beginning to mold into the pillow. The thought that maybe if she stayed there, maybe if she stayed very still, her body would sink and disintegrate into the bed, was on her mind more than appropriate.

It was also more comforting than it should have been.

To her credit Hester accepted the scene that bloomed in front of her. She didn't needle for information, nor did she try to prod her out of bed. Maybe she suspected the short flares of temper that lay beneath the surface of her skin during the episodes.

Instead she sat on the bed, silent in understanding or sympathy – Scarlett couldn't tell. And she'd absently pat her curls down, a gesture that was as tender as it was soothing, and Scarlett couldn't stop herself from rolling into the other girl, curling around her with tears pricking her eyes. She was forever trying to hold back the tears but it always turned out to be futile. Hester proved to be more of a comfort than expected; steady and firm and calm all at once. And, most importantly, expressly unsurprised by anything Scarlett could do.

Without even being asked, her roommate took pages upon pages of notes for Scarlett during the countless classes they had together. Hester even went as far as gathering all the course work from the classes they didn't share, marching about the school single-mindedly. It was like the mother hen that Scarlett never had.

Hester maintained that she was only having a bad comedown from the preposterous amount of cocaine she'd snorted throughout that day.

However it became quite clear that the comedown was only the beginning when it stretched into Sunday. It was certain it was nothing quite so simple when Scarlett only managed to get up for a shower on Tuesday, tired of smelling of sweat and musty tears. Still, she did nothing to contradict her roommate's assurances, avoiding the cautious expression as she collapsed back into bed. Hester knew, though, of course she did. Or at least she had her suspicions.

It was clear by the gentleness in her hands, the careful eyes, and the way she stepped oh so quietly over the threshold of the room to not bother her. Hester didn't go out. Not to a party or to see her brother, Vivian visiting in hushed tones like clockwork.

Hester was assuredly there, knowing to keep quiet and unobtrusive to not grate on her nerves. The girl was well rehearsed in unhappiness. And Scarlett was so grateful to her that she felt moisture build in the corners of her eyes if she thought about it, which she only buried her face in her pillows to hide.

And though she never said it aloud, Scarlett could see the worry sketched out across her roommate's face. It was there when she thought she wasn't being watched. It was in the creases that appeared in her forehead, the slits of her narrowed eyes, the tightened edges of her mouth. It was always there now. No matter how she tried to hide it, Scarlett could still see it, but the overwhelming apathy didn't allow her the chance to call Hester on it.

And it was only worse as she tried to get Scarlett to come with her to the dining hall. When she refused steadfastly, Hester only came back with food for her, which was refused just as quickly. Scarlett opting to burrow deeper into the comfort of the bed instead of facing that worried look.

She blamed her lack of appetite on her lack of weed, trying to think of some worthy excuse. It came to something when Hester rolled a spliff for her and tried to cajole her into smoking it, not even bothering to open a window. And still Scarlett only rolled away from her.