She sat slumped in the hard chair, head down, eyes closed. She felt herself shuddering, involuntary twitching throughout her body. It was like her skin and muscles were dancing to a song she couldn’t hear. Her hair was finally starting to dry, though pieces were still stuck to her face. She could feel the leather straps around her wrists and ankles biting into her skin, could feel the pressure, but the pain was gone. She wondered idly if her hands and feet would burn when the bindings were released, as blood rushing back into her extremities. Her throat was raw and aching, from her screams, from gasping for breath. She could still feel the cold water around her head, enveloping her, trying to swallow her, could still feel the cold sting of air on her face as she was jerked back, could feel the pain of her lungs expanding, sucking in stale air.

She struck a match, watching as it sparked to life. The flame rose high, and she worked quickly, lighting the candles as the heat slowly crept toward her hand. She lit the last candle, then blew out the match with a satisfied breath. She watched as the flames sputtered, before finally settling and sending soft shadows across the room.

She breathed in their scent, the slight acrid smell of the match, the warming beeswax, the soft perfume of frankincense and sandalwood. She sat for a moment, following lines of wax as they dripped down the sides of the candles. There was something hypnotic about watching the small fires in the dark. Something she felt, deep in her soul, something that connected her to the raw energy of the universe.

He closed his office door quietly, then let out a loud sigh. He leaned against the door, his forehead resting against the solid wood. He would have never guessed that turning this operation from a one-person show to a huge bureaucracy would end up quite like this. Instead of working on his projects, alone, and feeling overwhelmed, he spent his days in meetings, at the occasional big production, and still felt overwhelmed. It felt so performative these days, and like he didn’t really know what was going on in his organization anymore.

He let out another sigh, then ambled over to his desk. He might have some time to sketch out a few new designs before his next meeting, and he really needed the break. Just as he sat at his large desk, the office door flew open.

“I’m so sorry, sir, but I couldn’t stop her!” Gary, his assistant, said, glaring at the woman who had burst through the door and wiping a bit of sweat from his brow.

Ian barged his way into the locker room. He was fully pissed off. Michelle had just dumped him for some dude in band. Band, of all things! She had rambled on and on about how she cared for him, but he just didn’t open up like Band Nerd did, wasn’t emotional enough, blah blah blah. He hadn’t really listened, due to the roaring in his ears. So what, if she wanted some sweaty band geek who, what, wrote poems or some shit, instead of him? That was her loss. She’d probably come crawling back anyway, once she realized Ian was clearly the better catch. But by then, he’d have gotten a new, hotter girlfriend, and would laugh her away.

He marched over to the sinks, and splashed cool water on his face. He just wanted to get out to practice and work out all this anger. He couldn’t stand feeling the tightness in his chest, the burn in his throat. He just needed a long, hard, workout, and he’d be fine. He stared at his reflection in the streaky mirror. He had to pull it together. If he was too angry, too aggressive out there, Coach would yell at him, tell him to get himself under control.

Willow closed her eyes, taking deep, slow breaths. She pulled her mind away from her itching arm, and tried to focus on something, anything, else.

“Damn it,” she whispered, opening her eyes and glaring at the twisting serpent inked into her skin. She could see the scab that itched, taunting her.

“What?” Thalia asked vaguely, nose still buried in her book.

“There is a scab on my new tattoo,” Willow said calmly, “that is making me want to peel off all of my skin.”