Part Two, Chapter Eight: Reflection

"Hey, Beatrice—"

"Hi." Beatrice replied unenthusiastically.

Harleigh ignored the flat tone of her voice, and immediately sped off into throwing information at her.

"Okay so, I have news. From what I can tell, all of the emails you've been getting have indeed been coming from the abandoned warehouse."

Beatrice sat down on the bed, and flopped backwards, staring up at the fancy light fixtures that dangled above the bed.

"Okay, so what does that mean?" She said, though it was mostly just to herself.

"I obviously can't say for sure." Harleigh said. "But if you asked me, I think it looks like some kind of really weird, obvious trap."

"Oh, well—"

"Like they're trying to pose as someone in trouble, hoping you'll come to an abandoned location to try and save them."

"Yeah, that's what I was—"

"But then again—" Harleigh interrupted her again. "You're not exactly the person I would expect to just go out and save some rando who sent you an email. You'd probably only go out of your way if it were someone you cared about."

Beatrice wanted to protest, but kept her mouth shut because she silently agreed.

"What if it's actually a really good trap." She suggested.

"A really good trap?" Harleigh asked.

"Yeah." Beatrice said. "Like, what if it's to distract me from another, better trap. Or it just looks so bad so I go there unprepared and get my ass kicked."

"Hm. I say, send them an email and ask who they are." Harleigh said. "Just outright ask. I want to see what they tell you."

"If it's just someone trying to coax me into a fight, what good is egging them on with more emails going to do?" Beatrice said.

"Nothing, I guess." Harleigh admitted. "I just like to stir the pot."

Beatrice blinked tiredly up at the ceiling.

"I think I'll just go up there and check the place out." She said. "Whoever it is might think they can best me in a fight. But l know they can't."

"That sounds like a really, really dumb idea." Harleigh snorted. "You should do it."

Beatrice frowned.

"Okay, I will."

"Good."

"Yeah, it will be."

"We'll see."

"Yeah."

"Yeah."

There was a brief moment of silence as Beatrice glared into the distance.

"I'm hanging up first!" She declared. She hit the end button before Harleigh could respond.

She gave herself a satisfied smirk and tossed her phone onto the bed, then stretched for a moment and peeled off her clothes.

She stood in only her underwear, glaring at her reflection angrily in the full length mirror. She bent sideways at the waist, and grabbed the side of her stomach where it formed a soft roll at the side.

Alice was right, she thought. While she had lost a lot of weight while in the hospital, when she had moved in with Charlie and started eating catered meals, she quickly gained it back.

Her gaze slid down, and she eyed the thick, pink lines that stretched across the side of her stomach. She brushed her fingers over the scars, and felt the smooth, raised ridges with a frown. It wasn't something she would have let bother her before, but now she found herself preoccupied wondering what Charlie thought about them.

Behind her, the bedroom door slid open, but she didn't turn away from the dis-satisfying visage that was her reflection.

"B, I'm sorry I didn't answer your phone call. There was this meeting with a client that got really intense, and then someone lit the toilet paper dispenser in the employee bathroom on fire and we had to evacuate the building and—" she cut herself off when she realized Beatrice wasn't responding. "B?"

Beatrice turned around to face her, her hands planted on her hips.

"Do you think I look fat?" She asked pointedly.

Charlie blinked, clearly caught off guard.

"Uh—no, I—"

"Are you sure?" Beatrice pressed.

"Of course!" Charlie said.

Beatrice sighed, and fell backwards onto the bed once again. It was soft. It was uncomfortably soft. It felt wrong, somehow, in how soft it was.

Charlie slowly walked over and sat beside her. After a moment she began to run her fingers through her hair.

"Did you have a bad day?" She asked quietly.

Beatrice laid one of her arms across her face.

"Yeah."

The atmosphere in the room suddenly became very serious.

"You know you don't have to be a hero if you don't want to." Charlie said. "You can do anything you want. I'll support you with anything you want to do."

"I am doing what I want." Beatrice lied. "It's just— I don't know, Charlie. I just don't think I fit in here."

"You don't think you fit in here?" Charlie asked.

"With you, and all of these rich, well known people. I never thought I would have a life like this. I never thought I would have to deal with being the center of attention." Beatrice sat up a little bit and looked Charlie in the eyes. "I don't feel like I've done anything to deserve this kind of extravagant life."

Charlie reached over and grabbed her hand.

"B, I haven't done anything to deserve it either." She said. "It's something I think about a lot. If I wasn't lucky enough to be born into such a privileged situation, I don't know what I would be doing with my life."

Beatrice blushed.

"You're really charming, despite being so goofy, so you'd probably still be in a situation where you could be dating models."

"I just hope I would still be in a situation where I could be dating you."

Beatrice looked away. She suddenly felt the need to de-escalate the seriousness of the situation.

"Another thing that sucks is that I don't even know where to get weed from around here, and even if I did it would probably be way too expensive. Like that medical stuff or something."  She said with a laugh.

The light flickered back into Charlie's eyes, and the serious air that had surrounded her left.

"Oh! I can do that for you!" She said. "Do you want me to get you some weed?"

Beatrice smiled the smallest bit.

"No, you don't have to do that for me."

"Okay, sure, sure." Charlie said, as if she was definitely going to do it anyway.

"There is this one other thing." Beatrice said.

"What is that?" Chalrie asked.

"Well… I've been getting these weird emails lately."

Chsrlie frowned.

"It's not like, a sex thing, right?" She asked. "No one's sending you pictures of their dick?"

"Oh, no." Beatrice said. "It's nothing like that. It's— well, hold on, I'll just show you."

Beatrice picked up her phone, and pulled up the separate folder she had saved the emails in. She handed the phone over to Charlie, who's brow creased as soon as she began scrolling through them.

She was silent as Beatrice filled her in on the details, even about how she had shared them with Harleigh and about her plans to scope the location out.

"Why didn't you tell me about it?" Charlie asked.

Beatrice immediately felt embarrassed.

"Sorry. I didn’t think it was a big deal at first."

"It's okay." Charlie said. "I just… worry, ya know?"

"You worry?" Beatrice said with a frown.

"Yeah." Charlie said. "About you getting hurt again. When that bomb went off, and I saw how badly you were hurt, it was one of the worst things I've ever felt. I don't ever want to see you get hurt like that again. I just want you to be happy and safe and healthy."

Beatrice leaned her head onto Charlie's shoulder and sighed, suddenly feeling bad about wanting to recklessly throw herself into a potentially dangerous situation.

"I'm sorry. I'll leave it alone. I promise I'll keep myself safe."

"Hey!" Charlie said. "Here's an idea! Why don't we go together!"

"Together?" Beatrice said.

"Yeah! It'll be like a cute date!" Charlie gushed.

Beatrice wanted to disagree, but it was impossible to say no to Charlie's puppy eyes so she quickly relented.

"Uh, well— I guess it's a date then."

"A cute date." Charlie corrected.

Beatrice smiled, hoping she would forget about it by the end of the week.