When did you decide this was no longer a fight worth having?
That was the question ringing through Gabriella’s mind on this particular night as she made her way home from Club Neon. The past few nights had been a series of unexpected revelations for her, really. It was jarring that Luma, of all people, was concerned about her mental state, and rather alarming, too; it was one thing for another Clan to be wary of where she was at, but the message coming from another Malkavian, one who knew full well how much of a battle it was every night, had rattled her. So had the talk with her gangmates: she tended to shy away from serious talks about herself with them under the belief that they had their own problems and didn’t need to be saddled with hers. But hearing that she wasn’t the only one who struggled with their inclinations and compulsions helped her. It made her feel less alone, though she sensed it hadn’t really been the point. Plus, she felt so few people understood her or tolerated her without being wary or judgmental; when they spoke honestly with her, it made her more inclined to listen.
And listen she did. But listening raised that question. These people don’t simply accept defeat and try to either ignore or be ruled by their problems. When did you decide to do that?
Gabriella frowned as she trudged back to her Southside haven, where she’d been spending a lot of time lately hiding Andre from the feds and hiding herself from...she didn’t even know what at this point. Luma was right that she was running, and while there wasn’t anything inherently wrong with running, it was true that eventually she’d run out of places to run. Klein was going to keep chasing. Klein was going to expect her to keep running. And eventually, Klein would expect to chase her into a corner where she couldn’t run anymore.
Precisely what Klein would want. Not to mention all her other enemies. When had Gabriella allowed herself to become so...predictable? When had her efforts to throw her pursuers off her metaphorical scent inadvertently made her an even easier target? When had she decided that she had no choice but to allow her paranoia and anxiety to guide her on a nightly basis instead of the logic and rationale she so wanted everyone else to embrace? When had she concluded that the fact that her anxiety would never leave her alone was a sufficient excuse to stop combatting it altogether?
Probably because I’m stronger than you. Always have been.
Gabriella grit her teeth. “Give it a rest,” she muttered aloud to the voice in her head. Here she went again. Another outwardly one-sided conversation with herself that would only end with her feeling more powerless, more helpless, more stupid, more weak, more vulnerable.
I could say the same to you, darling. Out in public so soon after being questioned by the police? Are you sure you don’t want to be a murder suspect, or are you just stupid?
She hissed at herself, a sound she rarely made nowadays, as she shut her front door behind her. Andre was in another room, it seemed. Just as well; she needed to have a talk.
“Not that I expect you to understand, but I needed to see my gangmates. I need their help. And what’s more? I like being around them.”
That’s a lot of words just to say you’re down with Vivian snapping your neck.
“She’s not actually going to snap my neck!” Gabriella sharply whispered to herself, trying to remain quiet enough that Andre wouldn’t take notice of her one-sided argument with herself. “Why would she ever snap my neck?”
Why wouldn’t she? You heard her. A constant compulsion. And you’re around her all the time. Easy target, right?
“You know I can’t disprove a negative.”
What a copout. That’s your only response? And you really think you’re intelligent enough to be telling these people what to do?
“Yes I am!” she whispered again. “At the very least, I’m smarter than you’ve ever given me credit for. I don’t know when you stopped just being paranoia and started making me hate myself, but it’s not fair. I’ve survived this long, haven’t I? Even though an entire Camarilla Court wants my head on a stake?”
I’m the only reason you’ve survived, Gabriella. I could’ve let you stay quiet back in Houston, and Alexis probably would’ve ripped you to shreds like the cannon fodder you were, but I gave you the backbone to stand up and run. And you’ve never even thanked me for that!
“Oh, are you claiming to be my Beast now, too?” she asked, her voice rising above a whisper for the first time.
I’m your conscience, Gabriella. You act like I’m some mark of insanity. I mean, we can pretend you’re right. Yeah, I’m just some anxiety monster in your brain. I’m the reason all those people are right about you, thinking you’re cuckoo and all. Is that what you’d like? Everyone to treat you like some dangerous psychopath?
Gabriella froze for a long moment. It wasn’t a vision. It wasn’t a premonition. It wasn’t even anything supernatural. It was just...a moment of Malkavian clarity, when the world stops just long enough to make sense -- if only for a moment.
“You’re Klein.”
What are you on about now? Gabriella could hear the bemused tone in her head.
“I had my fair share of problems when I was alive but a little voice in my head wasn’t one of them. Even when Klein had me, it was horrible and I was scared of everything, but it wasn’t this. You’re him. You’re just a little version of him, telling me all the things he’d tell me if he were here to say them. And you followed me and you won’t leave me alone and you’re still wrong about almost everything.”
Gabriella, this is ridiculous even for you.
“Shut the fuck up!” she snapped, loud enough for Andre to hear in the other room, which no longer concerned her. “I’ve had enough of letting you walk all over me. I’m not going to play your game anymore. If Klein told me I was screwing up, I’d ignore it. What makes you any different? You treat me the same. Crazy, addled nonsense, belittling me constantly, bullying me into being something I hate being and making me second-guess everything I ever see or feel or think and I am tired of it and I am going to fight the prospect of living a miserable existence no matter how hard I have to try.”
What makes me different? Gabriella, this isn’t just ridiculous, it’s deranged. I’m not gaslighting you. I’m being honest. I dare you to tell me what I’m wrong about. Go on. One thing.
Gabriella gritted her teeth in rising anger. “I’m not useless. I’m not some idiot surviving in spite of myself.”
Aren’t you? You’re living in a hovel on Southside guarded by two gangsters because you’ve taken playing pretend so far you’ve convinced them you’re some badass, and you’re locked in with your pathetic boyfriend who looks up to Alain as a pinnacle of knowledge. If you think this is success, I shudder to think of what your definition of failure must be.
“I don’t care about living in some fancy haven. I care about the people I care about and I will make no apologies for that. And you know what else? I drive some of the worst people in the world fucking nuts. I live rent-free in my sire’s head. A fucking Primogen was willing to drop everything and ‘save’ me from myself in spite of his positions and responsibilities, and I didn’t even give him a single bit of evidence to think I needed saving. I’m the fucking cautionary tale for every new Embrace in Houston. Me! Not Bonaparte. Not Alexis. Not Luma. Not even Vivian. I am. And if Oliver fucking Klein is expecting me to run from every confrontation, I’m going to show him that he’s got me all wrong. I’m ready to stare him down. I’m ready to stare all his buddies down. And I’m going to turn as many of them into ash as I possibly can.”
Still, the voice in her head was uncowed. In contrast to Gabriella’s increasing determination and intensity, it just sort of...laughed.
Okay, Gabriella. Whatever you say. But I want you to remember one thing. You can eat Klein and all his friends. But that won’t solve a single one of your problems. And what’s more? I’ll still be here. So even if you delude yourself into thinking I’m some figment of Klein following you around, just know that you can kill him. And then you’ll still have to answer to me. And that’s going to absolutely shatter you, baby girl.
“I don’t answer to you,” she growled. “You answer to me.”
Well, that’s quite a shift from the last 50 years of thinking. And some pretty heavy-duty denial, I have to say.
“What denial? You think I’m wrong about everything. So if I’ve spent the last five decades thinking you’re the thing dragging me around and making me the way I am, am I wrong about that?”
A broken clock is right twice a day, Gabriella.
“Give it a rest. Because here’s the thing. I can kill you whenever you want. For good. Once and for all.”
The voice laughed mockingly, as if this was the most ridiculous thing she’d ever said. Oh, please, tell me how. I mean, you’ve had all this time to do it. When are you going to start?
“When I die, you die. And don’t think for one second that if I can’t take it anymore I won’t end you myself.”
Gabriella didn’t expect the response she got next.
Silence.
It was as if she’d caught even herself off-guard. But her inner voice, her Klein, her Malkavian brain, whatever one wanted to call it -- after 50 years of having an answer for everything, it had nothing in response to that.
“Something wrong?”
You haven’t got the nerve.
“Try me.”
What are you going to do? Tie yourself to the roof and wait for the sun?
“They do say sunlight is the best disinfectant.” She sounded deadly serious, as she had this entire time.
You’re beyond deluded. You fear death more than anything in the world.
“I don’t fear death. I fear the unknown. I fear what comes after. But here’s the thing. One day...if you keep getting louder and louder...the prospect of an eternity with you dragging me down is going to look worse than whatever I risk by going away forever. And when that day comes...I’ll put myself out of my misery. Maybe it’s in ten years. Maybe it’s in ten thousand. But don’t fucking doubt me. Because I know one thing. Nothing and no one is meant to live forever. Not you. And especially not me. And I won’t. I can promise you that.”
So you’re promising me that one day you’re going to commit suicide just to be rid of me. What a coward you are.
“Oh, I’m going to make it good. I’ll go down fighting someone a bit too strong for me. But I’m going to go down fighting. I’ve been running for too long. Especially from you. But I can’t outrun my own mind. You know how it is, don’t you? Fight or flight. And flight isn’t an option now, is it? Never has been.”
Silence. Again. For the second time in a minute, after decades of nothing but noise.
“That’s what I thought. Now here’s the deal….Klein. The tables have turned. I’m in charge. You’re going to bitch and moan at me every second of every night, and if you have a point I’ll take it under consideration, but from now on, when you punch, I’m going to punch back. I’ve had enough of being your doormat. I’ve had enough of sitting around taking the things you berate me over as indisputable facts that I’m just supposed to nod and accept. I’ve had enough of letting you make me seem like the scared drama queen, unwilling to assert myself when people are making mistakes. I’m tired of you not letting me be what I want to be. I refuse to sit here and let you make me miserable for every waking moment of my existence without at least trying to fight off your bullshit. And if Luma can do it...so can I. So I’m going to speak up when I have something to say and I’m going to stop letting you scare me out of every single positive relationship I have a chance of making. And I’m fucking done running from necessary conflict. Especially with you. And don’t you forget for one moment that you exist as long as I let you exist, so tread fucking lightly. Got it?”
You’re going to get yourself killed, Gabriella, and you’re going to deserve it.
Gabriella couldn’t help but grin to herself. “Didn’t I say that was the plan?”
Silence. A third time.
Gabriella knew she could never win the war. But there was nothing stopping her from winning the nightly battles instead of merely surviving them.
And for now, that would have to do.