That was a waste of a compact, she wants to joke, but it dies in her throat. 

For a moment, the truth rises to her tongue. She thinks of what it would be like to open up her chest and pull out each rib, lay her bloody history down piece by piece on the counter; what it would be like to be unburdened. 

Her mouth is dry. She doesn't speak. She knows the inevitable end to that line of action. He did this to me and I ran, and now there is another, and I am just as guilty as he is. 

"Are you going back out?" she asks. 

physis

Thalia looked back over her shoulder at Sophia as she opened the door, raising an eyebrow. 

"Is there another kind of battle?"

He's right where they left him, this time with his hand on the boy's shoulder, the other plucking a fresh drink from a server's tray. She stops where he can't see her, watching for a moment that goes on far too long; the tense set of Andrew's shoulders, the twist of curls at the nape of his neck. Studying him is like looking at the sun. It makes her want to cry. It makes her grit her teeth. 

She does one of the hardest things she's ever done and walks back over, slides into place at his side. Andrew looks at her without interest, and then turns his gaze back to the crowd. He smiles.

"Is Mrs. Velos well?" he asks. 

"You can ask her yourself when you see her again," Thalia says, more coolly than she feels. "We need to talk."

physis

He waves Andrew away with a brisk motion of his hand, and Thalia watches, disgusted, as the boy disappears without a trace. She's sure that he'll know exactly where to find him. Then he takes her by the hand and pulls her aside into a secluded corner. He doesn't look angry, and that scares her.

"What could we possibly have to talk about?" he asks. "Have you possibly come to apologize for your earlier rudeness to Mrs. Velos? Or should we go further back, to the disgraceful manner in which you left my care?"

She'd thought, before, returning to his side, letting him touch her; she'd thought that was the hardest thing she'd ever done. She was wrong. Reaching out for his mind, forcing her way in through his pitiful, natural human defenses, seeing herself through her eyes, seeing what he thinks of her--god, had she ever been that young?--is the worst. She gags despite herself, and he frowns, pulling back as if he thinks she might vomit on him.

"What's wrong with you?" he asks, and the touch of concern in his voice that she knows, rummaging through his head as she is, is real, is too much. She presses down, grinds out every each sentence like its costing her years of her life. Maybe it is.

"You're never going to touch him again," she says, "You're never going to touch any child again. You're going to give him back to the system. He won't have to stay another night in your apartment. And you're going to feel--" Her voice breaks for a moment, but she keeps going, she can't stop, not now, not in the middle; she doesn't know what will happen if she does. "--you're going to feel what we felt every day for the rest of your life. The shame, and the hurt, and the shit I still don't have words for, you're going to feel it like you lived it, and you're going to be sorry every day of your life and it's never going to be enough. And you'll know it, and you'll let it kill you."

Thalia puts the full force of her power behind every word the way she's never done before. She watches them sink into him like a blow. His face ripples and then goes slack as the commands take hold. And she watches, looking into his eyes like she looked for so many nights, searching for some trace of humanity. Only his hand isn't on her jaw, holding her silent and still this time. Only this time, when she looks, she sees him break.

physis