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It should be no surprise that the inside of her mind was a darkened, red-soaked racecourse, its turf torn from numerous runs, filtered through a grainy dimness that ate at the edges of her vision. She sometimes tried to will it to be a rose garden, grass fresh and neat and dew glistening gently from the petals as they reached towards the sun, but it seemed she wasn’t allowed even that kindness.
The rails of the course were a hard, cold iron that refused to budge under her grasp.
She could be aware, watch from within, if she tried. Watch the havoc her “instinct” wreaked on the world around her, the cause of endless whispers that plagued Still in nearly all her waking hours. Her trainer and roommate alone seemed unpolluted by them, and she sometimes wondered how long it would last; how long until they realized that the monster inside her wasn’t going away, wasn’t what they imagined, wasn’t worth the trouble.
(How uncharitable. How cruel. How dare she doubt the gentle nature of their hearts. How dare she stoop lower than she already has.)
She didn’t dare turn her attention to the outside, like the coward she was, tired of what would await her. She let her “instinct” have her turn; maybe it would sate her enough that she could bask in it, running on her personalized track with only the shadows of those she tried to devour, and could let Still have a peaceful day to herself.
That hope kept her standing there, staring into the vague darkness beyond the track.
“Still. Still! Are you there, Still?”
Aah, what a fool she was. She lifted her eyes, pretending the blurriness of her vision was merely a side effect of her “instinct” coloring their inner world and not a tearful manifestation of her guilt.
“Still, are you okay?”
She stepped into the light that had begun to dapple across the track from no clear source, a blatant disregard of physics, and she felt her “instinct” race past her, hot breath nearly a purr in her throat, tongue flicking against her lips. She squeezed her eyes shut and held out a hand to that warmth, that endless source of joy and misery alike.
Still was in the tunnel back to their waiting rooms. Her eyes burned as she opened them, and she briefly shut them for another moment in hopes to soothe them from the wide-eyed, unblinking state her “instinct” often put them in.
“Still?” Her trainer’s soft voice urged her forth, a tinge of worry obviously threaded into every sound, and she forced her eyelids open, stepping towards them. One of their hands hovered over her shoulder, clearly unsure if their touch would help or hurt, and she leaned into it with a smile, pressing her head against their chest.
“I’m all right, Trainer. I’m sorry for worrying you.”
She felt them exhale with relief, their shoulders sagging, and she couldn’t help but whisper a guilty, “I’m sorry for leaving you with her so long,” an admission so tiny she wasn’t sure it could even be heard.
Of course they heard; they were her trainer. One of the only ones who ever really heard those barely-perceptible pleas of hers. Guilt, yet again.
“Don’t be sorry. Everything’s okay.” They patted her head, gently and soothingly as always. “I told her we could go out to run together at night if she didn’t go after any of the other racers and just came with me. I’m sorry for not checking with you first...” Their patting slowed, and Still couldn’t help but stubbornly press her head closer into that hesitant hand.
“It’s because of you that no one got hurt. Thank you, Trainer.”
They were genuine, those feelings. How could she bring herself to resent the decisions of one of the only ones to ever try and keep her safe and happy?
“...Feel free to sleep in tomorrow. We can do some indoor training in the afternoon, since the sun might be too harsh around then. I’ll make sure to reserve one of the treadmills.” Already they had begun muttering to themself, eyes darting left and right as if reading an invisible diagram, and Still watched from below with her head still pressed against that hand her trainer had likely forgotten was even there, a small smile on her face.
Who else thought of her that much? Who else cared for her that much? Who else was willing to put up with the unruly chaos her “instinct” was with nary a complaint upon their lips?
“Let’s go back to the academy?” Her suggestion startled her trainer out of their reverie, and the bashful laugh they gave was all she needed to try and push the day’s events out of her mind and focus on the now she had been given.
Warmth. Warmth comfortable and strong enough that she could brush off the cold iron, the empty track, the churched dirt, the red that soaked into her every atom. Brush off the gleeful purring in her mind as her “instinct” raced in the distance, chasing shadows, salivating. None of that mattered when she could take her trainer’s hand and lead them back to the room with all their bags and clothes with an elegance her “instinct” could never match, one she alone bore, and pretend she was nothing but a girl who liked to run, same as all the rest.