[Kitkat knows this is wrong. By all technicalities, Eliade is Viktor’s girlfriend. He doesn’t treat her right, he ignores her for days on end, he uses her for sex, and Kitkat has a sneaking suspicion that not only is he the motivation for Eliade’s long sleeves in the warm months, but also that he might be hurting her himself. Kitkat already hated Viktor. Kitkat now loathes Viktor. Because nobody deserves this, and underneath all of her crippling insecurity and forced elitism, Eliade is just a very lost girl who needs to be cared for. Kitkat has always been on the maternal side, no matter how loud she would scream at anyone who actually said that.]
[So it isn’t hard to let herself be the emotional backbone of Eliade’s social circle. She holds her when she cries, keeps the rest of her hair back when she dyes the purple streak, shares her bed at sleepovers, writes compliments on her arms, kisses her when she doesn’t feel worth anything, goes down on her when she’s horny and Viktor doesn’t care, paints her toenails, brings her soup when she’s sick, and never, ever expects that they’ll sit together at lunch. She is Eliade’s dirty little secret, and sometimes Kitkat feels hollow and dirty because she is helping Eliade cheat and pouring her whole heart into a friendship that gives her nothing in return. But it’s all worth it when the tension melts out of Eliade’s shoulders and she smiles, really smiles, not smirks.]
[So even if it’s wrong, Kitkat kisses the pads of Eliade’s fingers before she gently cleans the infected, self-inflicted cuts on her left wrist.]
Fucking idiot, why did you wait to get help, there’s pus in these, its fucking nasty.
[Her voice is annoyed but her face is concerned. She doesn’t want Eliade to hurt, even when she does it to herself.]
14
[So it isn’t hard to let herself be the emotional backbone of Eliade’s social circle. She holds her when she cries, keeps the rest of her hair back when she dyes the purple streak, shares her bed at sleepovers, writes compliments on her arms, kisses her when she doesn’t feel worth anything, goes down on her when she’s horny and Viktor doesn’t care, paints her toenails, brings her soup when she’s sick, and never, ever expects that they’ll sit together at lunch. She is Eliade’s dirty little secret, and sometimes Kitkat feels hollow and dirty because she is helping Eliade cheat and pouring her whole heart into a friendship that gives her nothing in return. But it’s all worth it when the tension melts out of Eliade’s shoulders and she smiles, really smiles, not smirks.]
[So even if it’s wrong, Kitkat kisses the pads of Eliade’s fingers before she gently cleans the infected, self-inflicted cuts on her left wrist.]
Fucking idiot, why did you wait to get help, there’s pus in these, its fucking nasty.
[Her voice is annoyed but her face is concerned. She doesn’t want Eliade to hurt, even when she does it to herself.]