Beatrix felt herself returning to that removed state; she felt far from everyone else, and oftentimes herself.
Every time she saw her family, waking or asleep, she felt herself slip away, as if she didn't belong here. And she didn't.
Beatrix stared in the mirror, drinking in the sight.
She hadn't dared, up until this moment, to look at herself in the mirror. She knew she wouldn't like what she would see.
There was no trace of her features in Charlotte's face. Her face was cute, she had a pointed nose and wide blue-gray eyes. Her semi-curly, long blonde hair fell softly onto her shoulders. She looked like a replica of Clara, beautiful and lovely. She was the perfect protagonist.
It was strange to see someone else in the mirror, as if watching someone else's life through their eyes.
She had to get this over with.
For a while now, she had been simply going through the motions, avoiding her tense relationship with River, conversing with Charlotte's parents when she had to, and eating and sleeping when it was necessary. She mostly spent her time doing school work and studying, it was the perfect distraction.
She didn't want to think about anything, everything.
She wasn't very surprised when the school informed her she had gotten valedictorian. She had Charlotte's diligence and her experience on her side. And her avoidant nature ironically made her a good student. At least this time, since school was not her target of avoidance.
River had gotten salutatorian, which did surprise Beatrix.
Almost getting killed by his housemate must not have affected him as much as she thought it would, if he was able to focus on school so much.
Graduation didn't have nearly as much appeal in this life as it did in her real life. It didn't feel like it was her graduating.
It had been so long since someone had called her real name. The thought made her homesick.
She went through the motions, got her diploma, and that was that.
When she came home she was met with an extravagant party, courtesy of Charlotte's parents.
They were naturally extremely proud of the daughter for getting valedictorian, and they were similarly proud of River.
They invited practically everyone they could think of, the house was bursting.
Clara swept her way over, her dazzling dress flowing as she walked.
"Charlotte! You're home!" She was ecstatic.
"Do you like it? I gotta say, more people came than I anticipated." She looked a bit embarrassed, hoping the extravagance didn't overwhelm Beatrix.
"Yeah, thanks." Beatrix didn't know what to say. It didn't matter what she said.
"Glad to hear it!" Clara was going to continue, but some of her friends called her over. She shot Beatrix an apologetic look before sashaying away.
She left as quickly as she arrived.
Beatrix slowly drifted towards the wall, exchanging some simple pleasantries with people as she passed. They congratulated her, saying her parents must be so proud. They were right.
She eventually escaped it all. Sort of.
She may have sidled up against the wall, but some people still took the opportunity to talk to her.
Including River, who suddenly decided he was okay with talking to her. He had been avoiding her like the plague recently, for good reason, so it was surprising.
"So valedictorian, huh?" It was a painfully familiar statement.
"I guess so." It seemed like they were going to pretend like nothing happened.
They stood there in silence for a long moment. Beatrix couldn't decide if it was awkward or not.
"I forgive you, you know." He said casually.
"That's insane."
"I know."
Beatrix tried to kill River. Yet here they were. He forgave her. How could he forgive her?
If only he didn't forgive her.
"I lied when I said I hated you." He continued.
"At least I don't hate you now, I used to. I was childish. And I guess I still am, because the idea of us being friends makes me happy."
He paused and looked at her, a genuine smile on his face. He was hesitant to reach out to her; she could tell. But for one moment, he dropped all pretenses and tried to form a true connection.
"It makes me happy too." Tears were welling up in Beatrix's eyes. She had trouble keeping his gaze, her mind was overwhelmed with horrible emotions, and she couldn't control her expression. She looked miserable.
"Why are you crying?"
Tears were streaming down her face, ruining her makeup. Deep sorrow and regret twisted her face.
River stepped forward, with both trepidation and concern, and placed a careful hand on her shoulder. He was still afraid of her, and this moment was reminiscent of a different time he had seen her crying.
But he was overcome with worry and another feeling he couldn't face, and those feelings overrode everything else.
"Are you okay?"
At this point, some of the party guests were watching them, as if collecting gossip. They had an attitude of watching a scandal.
"Charlotte?" His hand drifted to her back, a comforting gesture.
As River said his last word, Beatrix quickly pulled out a knife from her bag, stabbing him before anyone could react.
She didn't count the number of stabs, she couldn't. The only sensation was the feeling of the knife going in and out of flesh. A horrible squelching noise filled the air, accompanied by the piercing screams of partygoers, and they blindly scattered towards the door. She was distantly aware of hands, desperately trying to restrain her, but they were yelling Charlotte's name, not hers.
River's hands were clawing at her arms, his fingernails were digging into her skin, and blood began dripping onto his hands. He hadn't had a chance to yell. The stabs had pierced his lung. Disgusting gurgles were all he could manage.
That didn't matter.
She didn't stop, the knife didn't stop.
His eyes were turning glassy and dull. His hands were slowly dropping from her arms, and his body was turning limp.
He didn't deserve this, but that didn't matter.
This time, she didn't stop. She plunged the knife over and over into his chest, stomach, head, anywhere.
Charlotte's parents were desperately trying to pull her away, but she was a frenzied force of death. This time, nothing would stop her.
She should be thinking of her family right now, how she was one step closer to saving them. But she wasn't. She wasn't thinking of anything, nothing she wanted to acknowledge, at least. She hated the feeling welling up inside her. Yes, there was guilt and regret, but there was some other disgusting sensation. It was vile, and she refused to put a name to it.