Chapter Text
OLIVIA
A broken flower vase with its contents spilling out on the tile floor.
Shit. I went too far.
What am I doing?
What’s happening to me?
It wasn’t supposed to be like this.
I sit motionless in my chair, just blankly staring at the carnage of the shattered vase.
Those flowers were a birthday gift from Inco. Now they’re ruined.
Just like me.
I look up at Inco with a mix of shock and remorse. The raging inferno that was in me mere seconds ago is gone. I lower my head in shame, roll away into my studio, and slowly shut the door.
My head finds its way into my palms, my snout sticking out in between.
This wasn’t supposed to happen. I was supposed to be bigger than this. Despite everything I’ve done, everything I do, and everything I’ll ever do, it just gets worse!
But it’s not my fault!
If that damn reporter had just listened to me, if she’d seen what I truly was instead of just trying to freeload off my condition, none of this crap would’ve happened!
If the world would just stop fucking me in the ass, then I wouldn’t... I wouldn't be some nobody making just above minimum wage!
If Inco-
Inco.
I shift back to look at the door, taking my head out of my palms.
Should I go out and apologize?
A sniffle escapes my snout; the tears from earlier are coming back.
… Will he apologize?
After five minutes of nothing, I had my answer. Seeing nothing come out of Inco, I feel the embers of the raging inferno from earlier light again.
That skinnie bastard! How dare he try to say he's been slaving for three years and that I’ve done nothing? I’ve done everything I can. It’s the world’s fault that no one understands me!
And all those terrible fucking things he said!
I grip the arm rests of my chair tightly, my claws piercing the padding.
I fucking hate him!
Wheeling myself over to where my drawing supplies are, I angrily erect a new canvas while murmuring curses against the world and Inco.
I’m not the insane one here! Why is it hard to make people just see me for who I am and not for my fucking chair?!
Staring at the blank canvas, I wait for the stream of inspiration to hit me so I can bury myself in my work and forget any of this happened.
Nothing comes.
Continuing to glare knives at the canvas for several minutes, I try to force something to come to mind.
Nothing.
A small cry escapes my mouth as my resolve falters. It wasn’t supposed to be like this.
Sticking my arms behind the canvas and its frame, I swipe them to the ground in a fit of rage while letting out a roar.
Wheeling over to my workbench, I fold my arms on the edge and throw my head on top. I can’t hold back the tears anymore.
It wasn’t supposed to be like this for me!
Iadakan!
What should I do?!
I lay there sobbing for several minutes.
I wish things could be different, Iadakan…
I don’t remember falling asleep.
???
Sprinting through the onslaught of rain with the roar of thunder overhead, I try covering my head with my arms in a vain attempt to block the drops as my hood flops uselessly behind my head.
I know they said it might rain today, but it was only a 60% chance! Since when does that mean it’s actually going to rain?!
… I should have brought my umbrella.
Running up to my front door, I quickly fumble with the keys before dropping them on the ground. Cursing to myself, I bend to pick them up before sticking them into the lock and letting myself in.
Closing and locking the door behind me, I shed my soaking jacket and kick off my muddied shoes to the side of the front door.
The lights inside the house are off, the only source being the gray daylight flooding in the large front window in the living room.
Guess mom’s not home yet. I know for certain that my dad is still in Florida for work.
I guess it’s just me for now.
Walking over to the bathroom, I enter and flick on the lights before swiping a dry towel off a rack and starting the long process of drying my long, very wet, brown hair. Once done, I grabbed a brush and started damage control on some strands that refuse to cooperate. Sometimes it’s just a lost cause with how curly it can get. Stepping over to the mirror, I give myself a nice lookover.
I readjust my glasses and tug at my shirt. Feeling satisfied with my appearance, I reach down, grab the wet towel off the floor, and hurl it into the laundry hamper in the corner of the bathroom.
Total three pointer.
Feeling less like a wet dog, I walk over to the steps that lead down into the basement, where my room is.
Standing at the top of the steps, I flip the light switch, a soft amber light bulb at the bottom of the steps illuminates the space. Descending down the carpeted stairs, I reminisce about how utterly crap today was.
First I forgot my physics homework at home, then I bombed a math test despite studying for hours, and finally I bashed my skull in an accident in automotive class.
What a wonderful day!
Not.
Arriving at the door to my room, I open it up and flick on the lights before walking in—the door behind me shutting with a soft click.
Taking a deep breath, I let out a long sigh. I toss my damp backpack to the ground alongside my desk before throwing myself into the padded comfort of my large office chair.
Leaning back and covering my face with my palms, I mutter something about ending it all.
Sadly, I’m booked solid for now with living; I’ll have to rain check that.
Thinking about what I should do, I decide to occupy myself with school work since it needs to be done anyway. Reaching over to my backpack, I unzipped the main pouch and found that the tops of my assignments were soaked. Thankfully, the important bits were still dry, so I should be able to complete them with no trouble.
After an hour of mind-numbing work with numbers, the noise of a door slamming emanates from the ceiling above. Stopping what I was doing, I lean to the side of my chair, tilt my head, and look up at the creaking floorboards above me.
“Charlie, I’m home!”
Ah, it’s just mom. I turn back to my work.
“I brought food!” My mother calls out in a cheery voice.
Well, you don’t have to threaten me with a good time.
Turning away from my work, I rise out of the chair and move for the door. Exiting into the main basement area, I hurry up the stairs. Once I reach the top, I turn and enter the kitchen. There on top of the stove is a large bucket of the Colonel’s finest with all the fixings. My mother shifts around in the cupboards next to the stove before coming out with a stack of paper plates and turning to face me.
“Ah, there’s my senior girl. How was your day?” She asks as I grab a single paper plate from the stack in her hands.
I sigh.
“Not good, if I’m being totally honest." A frown draws its way onto my face. “It was pretty tough.” I offload all the stuff that had happened to me. My mother looks at me with a mixture of disappointment and sadness.
“Surely there has to be something good to have come out of today, right?” She asks, worry tainting her question.
Was there any good out of today?
Well, I guess there was one thing.
Immediately following the intimate moment between my head and a suspension component on the truck I was working on in automotive class, one of my male classmates opposite me on the other side of the vehicle started muttering something about a ‘stupid girl’.
I bet the asshole thought I couldn't hear him, but I could, and I made it very well known that I did by starting to chew him out for his comment.
Before I could get deep into it, Mr. Anglehardt shouted for me to come to his office. Shooting one last glare at the douchebag, I turned around and stomped into Anglehardt’s office before slamming the door closed behind me.
All Anglehardt did was lean back in his chair and raise an eyebrow.
He asked me what happened, and I recounted to him with great frustration what had just transpired outside of his office.
He closed his eyes and shook his head.
“You can’t explode at the smallest infractions against you, Charlie. I know you’re frustrated with how you’re treated in this class, but this is something that will go beyond your education here. I know you’re thinking about a career in automotive sector, but your gender may be a major speed bump for you in the industry.” He interlaced his hands while pointing his two index fingers in my direction. “You need to focus on your ability to take what’s thrown your way. It’s not just going to be just your fellow employees that you have to deal with, but perhaps even some of your customers.” He calmly addressed me as I rubbed my shoulder and looked away, feeling embarrassed at being called out like this.
“Look at me, Charlie.”
Turning back to face him—his blue eyes were wide open—with a look of determination etched into his glare. The soft frown before me was quickly turning into a smile.
“I know you can do better than this. You’ve shown me that you’re one of the best mechanics at this school despite only starting last year, and maybe going forward, you’ll be one of the best in the entire automotive field. But it’s critical that you expand your skills even more and prioritize staying cool and collected while focusing on your work and your future."
He stood up from his chair and walked over to me before gingerly placing a hand on my shoulder.
“I know things are hard now, and they will continue to be for the rest of your career, but you need to take any of those jeers that get sent your way and convert them into passion that you can put into your work. You can yell at your doubters all your life, but that may never truly fix things. What you need to do is show those people that it’s your skills that they should judge you for, not for your gender.” Anglehardt’s positive energy was starting to rub off on me; I was already feeling my mood lifting.
“I believe in you, Charlie. I know you’ll go on to do great things in life; you just need to keep your mind out of those thunderclouds.” He said with conviction that I only hear from him during our one-on-one talks. I cleared the hair from my face and softly smiled at him while slowly nodding.
He gave my shoulder a solid pat.
“Now, go finish that lower ball joint before the class ends; I’d hate to keep you late. I heard it’s going to rain today.” Anglehardt said before shuffling me out of his office.
Finishing my recollection to my mother, she smiles and tells me how much she likes Mr. Anglehardt and how much of a positive influence he’s been on me since I started taking his classes.
I couldn’t agree more.
Excusing myself from the table, I tell my mom I’m going to finish my homework downstairs. She wishes me good luck.
Walking through the kitchen and towards the stairs to the basement, I pause at the top step and pull out my phone before going to the messaging app.
‘Richie’
I tap his name before quickly sending him a message.
‘hey big fella, are you still on for next week?’
Pocketing the phone, I descend into the basement and walk over to my room and enter, hearing my mother shout something down the steps, but I can’t make out what. No big deal; I’ll ask tomorrow.
Settling down at my desk, I mull over where I’d left off my homework. A sigh escapes my lips as I prop up my head with my elbows and stare at the calendar.
March 7th—a Thursday. Only a few more months of this torture, and I’ll be done with high school, moving onto the world of who knows what’s next for me.
Looking down at my homework, I grumble and decide to finish it. Every fiber of my being is shouting at me to ignore it, but I know it’s for the best that I get it done with.
After another hour of mind-numbing numbers crunching—skills that I’ll never use in my life—I put down my pencil and look at the completed paper with satisfaction.
I'm happy to be done with that.
I drag my eyes to the clock; it’s only 6:45 p.m. Guess I can just burn the rest of the night on my computer. Pulling over my laptop that I’d pushed to the corner of my desk, I flick open the lid and press the power button. As the computer finishes booting up, I feel a vibration on my thigh.
It’s a notification from my messaging app.
‘Richie’
‘Sounds good.’
A smile creeps its way onto my lips, and I place my phone down on the side of my desk. Alright, something to look forward to next week.
Keying in my password on the laptop, I stare at my home screen, scanning over my game selection.
Scrolling through the list, I have yet to find anything that catches my interest.
I pause on ‘ I Wani Hug that Gator! ’ This game has been taking the Snoot community by storm since it came out in February. I would know—I’ve already fallen in love with it myself after getting three of the four endings. But that’s the thing; I’d only gotten three of the four endings. I’d started my ending-two run earlier in the week, but school had prevented me from finishing it.
No better time than now.
After a few hours of gameplay, I could sum up my feelings in two sentences.
I’m not happy.
Not happy at all.
The scene in the art gallery, the argument at the dance, and finally the flower vase.
Who the hell does this gator think she is? It’s insane to believe that this is the same Olivia that I came to love in the other routes—it’s like they’re entirely different people.
Dare I say just as bad as ending one Inco, minus the putting someone in a coma part.
I look at my screen, showing the flower in the bloodied water, a mixture of anger and disappointment on my face as I stare at the tragic scene before me.
Poor Inco; he doesn’t deserve any of this. Damn Olivia and her hopeless crusade for perfection.
I sigh as the cutscene ends, my screen fading to black before the credits roll.
It wasn’t supposed to be like this for them.
I wish Olivia could just see this whole thing from a different perspective, and see what would have happened if she just let the wheelchair thing go.
She just needs a fucking wake-up call.
I shake my head before closing the program and shutting off my computer.
I’ll save the epilogue for another time. It’s late and I have school tomorrow.
Pivoting around in my chair, I get up and reach for the lamp on my nightstand. As the light turns on, I step over to my dresser and change into my sleeping getup. Fiddling around in my top drawer, I take out a bottle of extra-strength melatonin gummies and pop it open before pouring one into my hand and tossing it into my mouth.
After returning the bottle to its place, I walk over to the light switch for my room and flick it off. Sauntering back, I crawl onto my bed and cuddle up under the covers.
My eyes close, thoughts swirling about what I just witnessed. I can’t stop thinking about that ending. Something about it is scratching the back of my mind and I don’t know what.
That fucking ending. Things could be different for Olivia and Inco.
I wonder what Iadakan would think about what happened.