This might be a first for me, writing Cordelia gen fic. *is skeered*
Written for fantas_magoria
for The Harvest
~~People have a tendency to rationalize what they can, and forget what they can’t.
-Giles in The Harvest.
In the cold, safe light of morning, Cordelia Chase showers and dresses for school, stopping for a skinny latte at the Expresso Pump for the jolt she needs to shrug off a sleepless night.
Well, not exactly sleepless. More like full of nightmares that kept jarring her awake.
The school is talking about the big to-do at the Bronze the night before and her friends come rushing at her to get the dish first hand. She’s properly scandalized as she tells them about the gangs that tried to take over the club, about the disappearances and deaths and the big thug on stage that needed, like, major Botox treatments to iron out the serious wrinkles on his face.
She talks about Buffy, making sure everyone looks at the new girl like she’s a freak. Cordelia thinks she’s bi-polar or manic or something because no one that small should be that strong unless there’s some chemical imbalance going on.
What she keeps to herself is how glad she was to see Buffy, because even though the girl tried to stab her with a piece of wood, she was the only one in the club not afraid, and that she actually managed to make the creeps scatter like roaches getting the big spray.
What she doesn’t want to think about is the black light in Jesse’s eyes when she danced with him, and how hard his hold was when he was trying to hang on to her rather than give her over to the tacky blonde in the parochial school outfit.
What she won’t acknowledge to herself is how horrible his face looked when he knocked her down and climbed on top of her, how cold and stiff his skin was where he touched her.
And how, in her nightmares, his teeth were white like bones shining in the dark, and sharper than knives, and how his breath was rancid like meat left out in the sun.
What she does, is keep on talking.
Until she forgets.