The Princess and Her Cat

Three

I don't remember falling asleep. I don't remember waking up. I don't remember three new words being carved into my skin: "unclean," "worthless," and "trapped."

What I do remember is pain. Flashing white hot in my head. Pain, shooting up my spine. Pain, the dull throb after he was finished. Pain, the agony of being alone.

I used to think that pain was only a physical thing; you could only feel it if you hurt yourself. But now I realize that there's the pain of longing, the pain of being broken, and the pain of left alone for days in the dark; my thoughts hurting me more than the knife.

Why had I let Chat go that day? If I hadn't let him go I would be safe at home, safe and loved and not forgotten.

Because now I was pretty sure I was forgotten. Even I had forgotten myself. I couldn't even remember what being happy felt like.

I don't know how long it was. It felt like an eternity. But I do remember the day I heard a window shatter somewhere near by. I remember hearing a yell, followed by several terrible puns. I remember smelling clean air. I remember seeing a cat eared superhero saunter into the room, then implode when his eyes fell on me. I remember watching my savior crumble and tears drip onto his leather suit.

When he stepped closer I could see the terror in his eyes, the words made of blood on the sheets shining in his eyes. He didn't say anything. I wish he had. He didn't say a word as he untied my hands, gathered a sheet and a blanket around me, and scooped me up in his arms. He was shaking.

He didn't make a sound, when I wanted nothing more than to hear him say one word. Just to ask me if I was okay. Or make some God forsaken pun. But there was nothing.

When he landed on my roof and dropped me off in my room, gingerly laying me on the bed, he said one thing, and one thing only, his voice cracking.

"I'm sorry, Princess."

Then he left.

I tried to call him back, but my voice, raw and barely above a whisper, couldn't reach his ears.

Seconds after he left, I heard my parents, shouts and crying coming from the bakery below. They immediately rushed up, tears streaming, smiles wide. I tried to smile, I really did. It lasted maybe twelve seconds before I broke down in tears, sobbing. They had wrapped their arms around me, and we stayed there, together, weeping and laughing and being relieved simply because I was alive. What a beautiful thing.

θθθθθθθ

The following day was Saturday, a week and a half after I had been kidnapped. My parents said I didn't have to go to school until I was ready again. I didn't think I'd ever be ready again.

The first thing I did on Saturday was put on my earrings. My Miraculous. When Tikki appeared, I started crying again. I don't know why. But when she asked me what was wrong, it dawned on me that she had no idea what happened. She didn't know about the horror that I experienced, or the scars shining beneath my shirt. She didn't know anything.

And I kept it that way. She didn't need to know.

It was late, probably about ten o'clock, when a gentle knock sounded on the glass trap door. I didn't need to look to see who it was. After signaling for him to enter, Chat Noir jumped to the floor of my bedroom, the usual smile gone. In its place was a slight frown, and eyes that couldn't meet mine.

"Hi, Chat."

"Hello, Princess." he responded, his voice flat.

"I have a cookie, if you want one."

"I... No, thank you." Something was wrong.

"Chat?"

"What?" he answered, his eyes darting to mine for a split second before fleeing to the ground.

"Chat, look at me." His green eyes nervously met mine, and he flinched when I set a hand on his shoulder. "Chat, what's wrong?"

"Nothing." he replied, breaking eye contact.

"Chat Noir, you look at me and don't look away until I say you can." Slowly, his eyes met mine once again, their usual glow of life a flat, dead looking green. "Something is wrong, and you're not leaving until you tell me what it is."

"I told you a long time ago that I was going to protect you. I told you that I was going to be there for you, nothing, absolutely nothing could harm a single hair on your head. And I broke that promise. I heard you scream for me. I heard you. But I couldn't do anything." His eyes began to water and one of his hands came up to my face, his knuckles brushing my cheek. "I watched you get drug away, powerless to stop it. How can you even speak to me!" he shouted, dropping both hands to his sides, clenching them into fists. "You should be screaming at me! You shouldn't even be able to look at me, but I look into those blue eyes of yours and I see nothing but gratitude. Why?! I didn't save you at all. I condemned you."

"Chat, quit blaming yourself for something you didn't do. You did nothing wrong. You came back for me. You found me. You saved me."

"Quit saying that!" he screamed, his hands clamped over his ears as he fell to his knees.

Kneeling, I gently took his wrists and pulled his hands from his ears. "You are blameless. You did nothing. You aren't the one who cut me. You aren't the one who tied me to a headboard. What you are is a hero. The costume kind of gives it away." He looked up and gave me a watery smile. Then he grabbed me in a bone crushing hug, the scars on my stomach screaming.

But there was nowhere I'd rather be.