"No way, Julie.  Where you go, I go."

I feel a rush of comfort and affection at her simple declaration, that as messed up as things have become, Stanzie's going to stick by me.  Maybe between the two of us, we actually have a chance to get out of this.  But some small part of me objects, with a hint of weary repetition, reminding me that she's Bound, and of the commands I gave her.

I keep forgetting, somehow, what I've done to her.  It's so easy to just pretend we're in it together.  I could just leave it for a little while longer, so when I do lift it, I'll have a chance to...  I can't complete the thought, I'm not sure what it is I'm hoping for anymore.

"No...you have to..." I realize I'm speaking to myself aloud and trail off, shaking my head as if to jostle my thoughts into place.  You've got to do it now, or you may never have the chance...they'll do it, or force you to do it, and...then she'll never know that I really wanted to...  I try to slowly breathe for a moment, hoping to calm myself, but I realize that isn't possible under the circumstances, and just begin to blurt out the words.  "Augusta Constance Klein, by your True Name and mine, I forswear any hold on your will, now and forevermore."  It's like I'm talking into a January wind, particularly at the end, my throat trying to seize before I can tie off the unbinding with an Oath.  But somehow I manage to get it all out.

Stanza stumbles a couple of steps backwards, grabbing the bar next to the toilet to keep herself upright.  She looks confused, but that won't last long.  Sure enough, her face begins to flame with embarrassment.  I begin to feel uncomfortable...aside from that disastrous first minute, I hadn't thought I'd really been all that abusive in my commands, but it's clear that it's affecting her a lot more than I'd imagined.

She steps forward to start railing at me, to begin this scene I've unwillingly imagined multiple times over the past few days.  She'll rant, be hurt and angry, but I'll explain, and beg, and she's such a good person that-

I'm so focused on my irrational daydream that I don't process what I'm seeing until after it's happened, and I'm bent over the sink, my hands sore from where they'd hit the porcelain heavily, the entire side of my face burning as if she'd taken the fire from her own cheeks and branded it into mine.

A cold feeling seeps into my chest, as I realize that she's angrier than I ever imagined, and she has every right to be.  I can feel tears starting to fall as I push myself upright and turn to face her.  I want to tell her I understand, or at least that I agree, but I don't even get a word out before she's slapped me again and pushed past, trying to open the locked door.  Her second blow wasn't as hard as the first, but it hurts more anyway, my already-sore cheek now throbbing fiercely.  I could heal it, but for some reason I don't, it's more important to talk to her.

"I'm sorry," I say, though it comes out so ragged and soft that I'm not even sure if Stanzie hears me.  She doesn't look at me, anyway, and manages to unlock the door, flinging it open and stalking out.

"She's in there," growls my...victim.  She still doesn't look at me, but points directly at me, and her finger feels like a spear in my heart.  This is what I'd already decided though, to come clean, to throw myself on their mercy, and Stanza's, hope that somehow I can make them understand that I didn't mean to do anything wrong.  Just because it hurts more than I thought it would doesn't make it not the right thing to do.  The male Council guy stops his incantation as he sees me, his eyes wide.

I slam the door shut and latch it, trying to breathe normally despite the panic I felt at his look.

He's afraid, he's afraid of me, they think I'm a monster and they're not even going to listen before they...  I push myself into action to interrupt the thought, focus on safe but generous terms and try to Vanish.  I gasp involuntarily at the sudden pain, as if I'd done a belly-flop into an empty pool, and stumble backward.  Right...stupid...they've blocked that...

I look around frantically, my breath catching and tears still washing my face.  There's no window in the bathroom, but my eyes catch the toilet...I might be able to get into the ceiling tiles if I climb onto it.  I brace myself against the wall, but balancing on the institutional pipes behind the bowl, even rising onto my toes precariously, I'm too short.  I try to focus on the memory of Stanza being lofted into the air beneath a rose...it seems like weeks ago...but I'm distracted by the voices from outside, muffled behind the door.  I catch "Seer" and "here"...the woman's voice, and the man's as well, so he's finished casting, I have to go fast, I have to...

I look down, staring past my feet into the water in the bowl.  Before I can really consider what I'm doing, let alone talk myself out of it, I step one foot down onto the flush lever, then hop forward, closing my eyes and focusing.  It takes longer than it ought to land, the air beneath me growing to a firm breeze that buffets my fur, the sound of the rushing water below rising to a Niagara-like roar.  I wait for the last moment, until I start to feel rogue splashes of water hitting me, then take a deep breath just as I hit the raging whirlpool.

I want to pray that these pipes lead somewhere I can actually get out of, that I don't catch some horrid disease from going through the hospital sewage system or get killed by some unimagined water-treatment machinery.  But I'm being tossed so violently that I can't really maintain any thought but an endless chorus of, Oh God, oh God, oh God!  I want to scream, and though under "normal" circumstances, mouse-screaming actually does sound like a pretty impressive shriek to the mouse, I manage to keep the presence of mind not to open my mouth and let God-knows-what inside.

I'm not sure how long it takes...it can't be longer than a minute, but it seems like an hour.  But eventually I can't resist the burning in my lungs any longer and I gasp for breath.  Surprisingly, even though my face still feels like I'm under the surface, my lungs fill with air rather than sewage.  Or "air", anyway...it's fetid and nauseating, but my body seems to be accepting it for the moment, and I simply breathe for a bit.  The first coherent thought I manage is a sincere mental promise that, should I ever again have the opportunity to change myself into a mouse and flush myself down a hospital toilet, I will look for a better plan.

It feels like I'm hanging onto something squishy-yet-solid, like a rolled-up carpet, but I can't really tell what it is because my eyes are still tightly shut.  I'm not certain I want to know, but at this point, any problem that I might be able to do something about is too appealing to ignore.  I clamp my hind legs onto whatever it is, leaving my right paw gripping it as well and rub at my eyes furiously with my left wrist, trying to clear away as much as I can of the horrid stuff I'm coated in.  When I've done as well as I can, I gingerly open one eye.  It immediately starts burning and watering, and I blink it repeatedly.  My tears eventually rinse it enough that the burning mostly subsides, but I still can't see anything but black.

Right.  They don't put lights in sewer pipes, idiot.

I feel a burst of despair, and I seriously consider letting go, just letting myself drown in waste.  I picture Stanzie's face, and the mental image flicks back and forth between the horrified look after I'd first Bound her and made her slap herself, and the humiliated loathing I'd seen when she slapped me.  I'm certain there's no mercy waiting for me, from her or the Council, even if I did deserve it, which I don't.

I take one last breath, closing my eye, then relax all my claws.  I slip under the surface again, letting the now-gentle current take me.

God...I'm sorry.  I know you go to Hell if you commit suicide, but I guess I'm going there anyway.  I don't want forgiveness.  I just want Stanzie...  Within the thick flow, my head shakes weakly.  I want Augusta to be all right, to get over what I did.  Please let her have a chance at happiness, please don't let what I did hurt her forever?  It'd be better if I had never met her.

I picture the brunette again, this time as I first met her.  Standing in her doorway in ridiculous unicorn pajamas, without any loathing in her eyes...her mouth uncertain below her messy hair and adorkable glasses.

I wish...

My head begins to throb, my thoughts grow sluggish.  Words escape me, leaving only an indistinct feeling, hazy but somehow sharp at the same time.  A need.

The pressure around me grows crushing, and I lose myself in darkness.