Media of a Shattered Radio Player

Insects, she thinks, are stupid.

She watches one as it flutters about, moving around her with dizzying variations of speed. The beating of its wings somehow makes her nauseous. A small, flickering shadow moving along her arm. Up and down. Left and right. Hovering.

The lamp light has caught its attention. She laughs at this, because following its trajectory is enough to make her squeamish. There is something very strange about knowing certain things. Dramatic irony.

She understands that the fey attraction the fly holds for the light will eventually lead it to its own destruction.

Fate Testarossa is very much like that fly.

Foolish, and easy to seduce. The thought is enough to make her smile.

Alicia Testarossa is a narcissist of the highest possible degree.

She is in love with herself. Parts of herself. She is a stranger inside her own head, watching herself through eyes that are not her own. Red mirrors reflect her, and she is perfection.

Absolute beauty. Exquisiteness. Splendor.

She is a living portrait, a living doll, with porcelain skin, eyes like rubies, and a killer smile.

But then again…So is Fate-chan.

“So, do you have anything you’d like to say, Fate?”

She holds out the recorder, and because it is in her nature to be shameless, she does not bother to cover herself up. Her hair is dripping wet and plastered on her face. She has just taken a shower to rid herself of signs of exertion. The naked mirror rolls over to face her. Red glass. She is lovely.

There is a crooked smile hiding just beneath the surface.

“I love you.” She says, and stops hiding it.

The recorder is dropped. It tangles in sheets, sliding inches until it falls to the ground. Their moans are drowned out by music.

Her fingers caress and stroke at her leisure despite Fate’s desperate pleas.

That expression suits her.

“What’s up, Fate-chan?”

Her voice is muddled. Static makes it harder to perceive. There is shuffling, and a girlish laugh. Charming. Playful. It makes her skin crawl to hear that voice again.

“It depends on how you look at it.”

It is the same voice that answers. But it is altogether different.

The voices are the same, but one is more wry than the others. One is teasing, while the other is more serious. One is lilting, while the other is husky.

The voices are identical. It makes her blood curl.

“Which way are you looking at it, Fate-chan?”

The other voice laughs beautifully. She finds it difficult to imagine the girl she knows now, laughing this way.

“I’m reading. To me, everything is up, Alicia. You may find it boring, but it’s so much fun…”

There is a shift. The sound of sheets rumpling reaches her ears. It makes her tense, and she instinctively prepares for the worst.

“You’re so passionate about books…I’m almost jealous.”

There is a small, almost disbelieving, noise.

“If you’re jealous, then maybe you should pick up a few of your own and see where they take you.”

“I might just do that, Fate-chan.” There is shuffling again. Her heart stops. But then there is the sound of footsteps, and she breathes deeply. “But hey…why do that when I can watch the movies?”

There is laughter from the lilting voice. The husky voice makes a noise of disapproval, and then there is the sound of a door closing. For a moment, all she can hear is breathing. A slow thing that sends tendrils of alarm all throughout her body.

Then there is a chuckle, and the sensuous, teasing voice speaks again. “It’s the books, Fate-chan…you look at them so intently.”

Desire resonates, reverberates in the air. It is unmistakable. It plagues her even when the click of the recorder lets her know the tape has run out.

“Objects in mirror are closer than they appear.”

There are strange noises in this tape. Something whirs in the background. It is loud, a thing of certain destructive power. It sounds like…it sounds like…she isn’t sure what it reminds her of.

“You’ve all read that before, and I’m sure some of you think of it as an ominous warning. Personally, I never paid any attention to it. It was just there, engraved in a mirror, written on glass in a place that could never affect me. Nothing ever affects me, anymore…”

The lilting voice trails off, no longer playful. There is a sense of foreboding in the air, now, and she can hardly suppress the sensation residing in her stomach. It is as though someone has taken all of her and buried it deep underground. The pressure is unbearable.

“That warning was in your car, Fate-chan.” Her heartbeat quickens and there is a sudden, flaring pain in her chest. She can’t breathe. She already knows what’s coming. “Where were you that day, Fate-chan…?”

There is tangible pain in the voice. It makes her tremble.

“What were you doing when it happened…? I still don’t know…I’m not even sure if I want to…” Hollow laughter. Static picks up, mashing everything together. She strains to hear again, and nearly misses the sound of glass breaking. And immediately afterwards, a hiss. “Oh…” The tone is one of surprise, as though the owner couldn’t believe what had just happened. “It hurts…damn it…I’m going to have to…cut…this one short.”

Real laughter. It is painful to hear. Delighted giggles. Something inside her twists unpleasantly. She remembers that day. She remembers asking about the bandages.

She remembers, and feels sick.

“I still wonder, though…

When you hear this, will you be able to answer me? Because I want to know, Fate-chan…why were you so distracted?

Where was your mind during that moment…in that time?

Who were you thinking about when that car hit yours…?

I want to know, Fate-chan…”

The voice darkens. A sound of deep obsession.

“Tell me it was me.”

She is standing against the light of the window, pale skin bathed in sun. Her golden hair glows. She is beautiful. And aware of it.

The mirror lies on a bed, an insect zapped by the light. It is nearing its downfall. And still, it smiles, glass the color of red wine shining with the utmost brilliance. A sweet gaze. The mirror is always sweet.

It makes Alicia want to smash it.

‘Seven years…’ She thinks, and smiles back. ‘I’ll get seven years of bad luck.’

“In bocca al lupo, Fate-chan.” She says, and saunters over to brush her hand against the golden frame. Burgundy glass watches her. It drives her insane.

“Crepi il lupo, Alicia.” It breathes, and she kisses the insect, the mirror, herself.

Alicia Testarossa is a narcissist of the highest possible order. She leans away and feels the touch linger. Burn.

Alicia Testarossa is in love with herself. Deeply. Irrevocably. Interminably.

She is the child with the kitten locked inside a box with no holes. And she refuses to set it free, even when the air is running out.

Crepi il lupo, Alicia.

She waves at the mirror as it is wheeled away towards the surgery room. What do mirrors need surgery for, anyway?

Mirrors are simply mirrors, and glass glitters even when it’s broken.

I could pick up your pieces, Fate-chan. I could put you back together.

Someone taps her shoulder. Every hair on her body stands on end. She feels it. She feels her presence. Everything has a reddish tint to it, now.

She can’t fight against an eclipse.

She turns to face the strange child, the one with the angel’s wings. Orbs of slate blue sparkle with uncertainty. With anxiety.

“Where’s Fate-chan?”

That’s none of your business. It’s never been your business. Stop coming here to visit her because I-

She smiles suddenly, something that feels strange on her face, and she is sure it must show because the child takes a step back. Out of concern. Out of fear.

I’m going to kill you.

She fixes the smile, allows it to become crooked, lets herself fall back into that easy charm, that practiced ease. Winning smile. Open invitations. She looks like her mirror and she knows it.

“She’s already in surgery…” Her lips quirk up at the corners. “Would you let me
tear you open rip you apart destroy you
give you a ride home?”

Soft smile. Gentle eyes. At that moment, the child becomes a fly.

“Thank you.”

And she falls for the allure of the Venus flytrap.

Crepi il lupo, Fate-chan.

Crepi il lupo.

“Ne...Alicia?”

It is the serious voice again. Tentative. Unsure.

“Mhmm, Fate-chan?”

“That recorder…what is its purpose?”

The sensuous voice laughs for a long time. There’s a frustrated sigh, and she can almost see it. She can almost see Alicia laughing, hair splayed behind her, beautiful, glorious.

It makes her hands shake. She clenches them, closes her eyes, and tries to focus on the tape.

“You’re so formal and ask the strangest things, Fate-chan…” It’s a whisper now. “But that’s a good question. It’s to catch all the little moments…the times that make me happy or sad…to keep track of them…”

She hears a small hum, and then there’s the sound of footsteps.

“Want to say something?”

And the voice is so inviting, so full of warmth, that for a second, she forgets that it's real life she’s listening to. She forgets. She wonders if Alicia meant for everything to show through with such small words.

There is breathing, for a few moments. Both of them are close to the recorder. And then the serious voice pierces through the silence.

“I love you.”

There’s a sudden clatter. A gasp. The sound of two bodies hitting the floor.

“Kiss me, Fate-chan.”

Her heart stops beating.

“I…”

“Kiss me…” And then the smallest, most sensual of whispers. “…everywhere.”

There’s a gasp, but she’s not sure where it came from. Here or there. Present or past.

She’s not sure where it came from.

“Alicia…”

A moan.

The tape clicks.

Her nightmare is over.

In the beginning, Alicia sits on the edge of Fate’s bed and watches her sleep.

She is the oldest child. She is the one who is meant to protect. She wants to save Fate, but she isn’t sure how.

After all, it’s different with twins, isn’t it? It’s different with mirror reflections. Identical replicas.

It’s different with narcissists.

“You’re pretty, Fate-chan…” She tells her, but the girl is asleep and cannot hear her. “You have the most beautiful smile…”

She leans down to brush her lips along the other’s ear, and as her eyelids flutter shut, she breathes in. Fate’s scent is wonderful.

“I love you, Fate-chan…” She whispers, and leans back.

Her eyes open
dark red crimson like blood
and she smiles.

Her fingers find the correct button, and she presses. There is a click.

It begins.

“She’s sleeping right now, you know.” She murmurs, and stands up. “So we’d better leave her alone.”

She makes her way to the door, and presses herself against it. It is cold and unfamiliar, and she briefly wonders when it was that became a stranger in her own house.

“And she’s beautiful.” She glances over her shoulder, and grins. “But you can’t have her. She’s mine.”

Fate squirms a little
the unknowing fly caught in a web
before rolling over.

She is beautiful. She is unaware.

Alicia smiles and slips outside before closing the door gently behind her. She raises the recorder to her lips and grins at the mirror on the wall across the hall.

It glitters with the reflection of moonlight.

“She’s all mine…” She drags her lips over the words, and imagines that it is Fate she’s seeing, that it is Fate who’s telling her these things, “…and you won’t ever have her.”

Her head aches from something she can’t explain, but when the phone rings, she is laughing.

She is not aware that in a few seconds, she will not be laughing anymore. In a few moments, she will be sent into a panic. In an instant, she will drop her phone and run outside, and she will forget to put on her helmet.

She will simply straddle her motorcycle, turn it on, and kick off full speed towards the hospital.

“Hello.” She greets jovially, entirely oblivious as to what will happen in a few minutes.

“There’s been an accident, Testarossa-san. Your sister’s car was completely smashed in and-”

It feels as though she has just landed straight on her back after falling off a tree. The wind has been knocked out of her. Her laughter is gone. She can’t breathe.

“…We need you to come immediately to-”

The phone slides out of her grasp. Her friends watch her in alarm and concern, but she doesn’t answer when they ask her what’s wrong.

She simply turns on her heels and runs outside. She forgets to put on her helmet when she mounts her bike. She forgets the speed limit and laws and weaves in and out of traffic.

She knows the way because her mother was in the same hospital, because her mother died in the same hospital, and she can’t bear the thought of Fate dying so she stops thinking.

She stops thinking about blonde hair matted with blood, stops thinking about insides being twisted far beyond any possible recognition, stops thinking about Fate-chan not being Fate-chan anymore because of an accident, stops thinking about anything except getting there alive.

And she is still an older sister. She is still an older sister, and she will continue being an older sister, because Fate-

Fate won’t die.

“Where’s my sister?!” She asks anxiously, and her heart is hammering in her chest as the receptionist looks her up and down.

In pity. Alicia Testarossa hates being pitied.

“What’s your name, sweetie?”

Narcissist.

“Alicia Testarossa.”

She is a narcissist.

“Your sister’s name?”

Fly.

“Fate Testarossa.”

She is a fly caught in the web of a love that strangles.

“I’m sorry, miss.”

Her heart stops beating.

“Your sister’s still being stabilized.”

She wants to hit the receptionist.

“I’m afraid I’m going to have to ask you to wait for a while until the doctors finish patching her up.”

She wants to-

She turns around and walks, disoriented, towards the waiting room. There are people all around her. There is noise. Babies crying. Coughing. A man is having an asthma attack around the corner.

She just wants everyone to shut up.

Preferably permanently.

It is hours later when the receptionist comes to find her. She is a kind old woman with a nice smile, but Alicia doesn’t give a shit. She doesn’t give a shit about anyone except Fate.

Fate-chan.

Her Fate-chan.

Don’t die.

The woman leads her through various corridors, past rooms with crying patients, past sights that make her feel more lost and alone than she has ever felt before.

Her eyes burn, but she can’t cry.

And then they arrive at door 219 and she clenches her hands. Nails dig into her skin. It is painful.

She pushes past the woman and grabs the doorknob. She steps through.

She is met with people who stare at her with wide eyes. There is surprise, but she doesn’t give a shit. She doesn’t give a shit about the blue eyed girl with the cast on her ankle, lying on the first bed.

She gives a shit about the mirror lying on the second bed, connected to an IV. That is all she cares about.

“Fate-chan…” She gasps out, because there are bandages everywhere, and there is a cast on her right arm.

Because the girl’s left eye is black and swollen as she tries to open both of them.

“Cia…”

There is a sweet smile. A cut lip. Bruises everywhere.

It almost makes Alicia cry.

The wind beats against her as she speeds towards the one place she knows no one will find them. The motorcycle hums beneath her, beneath that spot between her legs, and she knows something like it shouldn’t feel that good, but it does anyway.

The second insect’s arms are wrapped around her. She can feel the anxiety pouring off it, because it has already realized they aren’t going anywhere near its house.

She bares her teeth and grins.

You’re going to die.

“Right here…” She sings under her breath, and begins to slow down. “Right now…” Her voice darkens. “You’re going to die.”

They stop, and she turns off her motorcycle, and everything is silent.

She takes off her helmet and lets her blonde hair loose. She is beautiful. She is vain. She is a narcissist.

“Crepi il lupo, Alicia.”

She smiles.

Il lupo morirà, Fate-chan.

She slides off her bike, and turns to face the child with the angel’s wings. Slate blue eyes sparkle.

I’ll kill you.

“Where are we, Testarossa-san…?” The child’s voice is wary, now. “Why are we here?”

Because I’m going to kill you.

But instead, she simply smiles and reaches for her pocket.

The recorder feels heavy in her hands, but she doesn’t care. She doesn’t stop to consider why she feels as though she’s taking steps in all the wrong directions.

She has Fate-chan. She has Fate.

And Fate is all she will ever need.

So she smiles, and reaches for her pocket, and she takes out the recorder. There is a small click.

“Guess where I am, Fate-chan.” She drawls, her voice happy and peppy and all the things she shouldn’t be feeling right now. But she is. “While you’re in surgery, getting that stupid blood clot out of the way, I’m hanging out with Nanoha-chan. And I think…” She grins, and it feels strange on her face again, “I think she wants to say hello.”

She walks towards the second insect, her sister’s apparent sun, the child with the angel’s wings. Nanoha swallows dryly. Something is wrong with Alicia, and she feels it.

She feels it.

“Say hello, Nanoha-chan.” Her voice is warm and inviting again, her eyes shining with something indescribable. “Don’t be shy.”

The brown haired girl hesitates before leaning forward. “Hi, Fate-chan.”

She still has hopes that this is simply a tape, a way for Alicia to vent out her frustrations. She has no idea how very wrong she is.

How very right.

Darkness blocks everything out in the eldest twin’s mind. She smiles again, but this time, it is fierce. It is unmistakable.

Nanoha barely has the time to blink before she has been yanked off the motorcycle by her hair. She cries out, because it hurts, because she is shocked, and yet Alicia still smiles.

She is still smiling, and it scares her.

“Il lupo morirà, Fate-chan!”

She kicks the fly, smashes the recorder against its face, repeatedly, and there is blood, suddenly. There is blood, suddenly, and the fly’s pathetic attempts to defend itself draw her into a frenzy. She kicks it again, forces it onto its back, and attempts to squash it with her foot. Beautiful strands of blonde are loose in the wind.

Nanoha’s perfectly blue eyes are wide and panicked as she grabs desperately at Alicia’s shoe, trying to get her off.

A slap rewards her efforts, and there is blood in her mouth, and it hurts.

“Did you honestly think you could steal Fate-chan away from me?!” Jealousy and hatred go hand in hand. “You stupid bitch!” Nanoha lets out a strangled scream as she is kicked again, with much more force than before. “You whore! Why don’t you just stick to the people who want you?! We don’t want you here!”

There is a sudden spinning in the beautiful blonde’s head, and there is pain in her chest, and she thinks of Fate in surgery as people poke and prod her and open her skin to get to the real problem.

No matter how deeply they dig, they won’t ever find it.

The real problem.

Crepi il lupo, Alicia.

The narcissist screams and throws the recorder so hard at the floor that it shatters. It breaks. She spits at the insect’s face and takes the tapes out of her pockets. The tapes she always carries around with her.

She throws them at Nanoha, then grabs her by the hair and yanks her forward.

“You will never take my place in that girl’s heart.”

Her nails dig so deeply into the insect’s skull that she draws blood. It almost makes her laugh.

“I won’t ever let you.”

In bocca al lupo, Fate-chan.

She smashes her hand so hard against the girl’s face that blood splatters on the ground. The insect whimpers and weakly tries to lift herself off the dirt, off the floor.

Alicia glares at her, and it is only then that she looks truly human. She is not a monster. She is not the moon. She is not the Venus flytrap.

She is simply a girl. A narcissist. She is simply a person who has fallen in love with her own reflection.

“Dirt to dirt, Nanoha-chan.” Her voice is dark with inner torment. Sick amusement. “Dirt…to dirt.”

She straddles her motorcycle and straps on her helmet. She has never looked or felt more beautiful than at that exact moment.

“Ciao, bella. Divertiti nell’inferno.”

And then she leaves the insect behind.

“Guess where I am, Fate-chan.”

The lilting voice lets the words fall like bombshells on her heart. Everything hurts, pounds. She trembles before the voice. She trembles in fear.

“While you’re in surgery, getting that stupid blood clot out of the way, I’m hanging out with Nanoha-chan. And I think…I think she wants to say hello.”

She clenches her eyes shut and forces her hands to remain at her sides. Forces her hands to stay still, to not reach up and cover her ears.

“Say hello, Nanoha-chan.” The beautiful voice is warm and inviting. Alluring. It is a fey attraction. “Don’t be shy.”

There is silence for a few seconds.

And then her fluttering, nervous voice pierces the air.

“Hi, Fate-chan.”

The sound makes her squeamish. She gasps out and wraps her arms around herself.

In less than five seconds, she hears herself cry out in pain. She relives being yanked off the motorcycle, relives Alicia’s cold smile.

“Il lupo morirà, Fate-chan!”

The shout makes her blood curl. It is haunted. It is pained. Anguished.

Then the sound of the recorder smashing against her head continuously, her whimpers and yells, the sound of her gasps as Alicia dug her shoe into her stomach. The echo of a slap.

“Did you honestly think you could steal Fate-chan away from me?!”

Jealousy and hatred go hand in hand. Hadn’t she thought that, before? Hadn’t someone told her that, before?

“You stupid bitch!” There is a strangled scream and she remembers the kick. She covers her stomach instinctively, and begins to cry. “You whore! Why don’t you just stick to the people who want you?! We don’t want you here!”

Then there is the sudden sound of air whistling past the recorder. A crash.

The tape suddenly cuts off.

She is crying.

Her keys jingle in her jacket pocket as she walks through white halls.

Coughing fits reach her ears, and she allows a moment of pity to flow through her.

She can afford it now, because Fate-chan is alive, and she will stay that way.

Fate-chan is alive, and she is stable.

Fate-chan won’t die.

She grins happily at the thought and sprints forward, eager to see the mirror. Her mirror.

She grips the doorknob and opens the door. And she is met with the sight of the brown haired girl, her ankle still in the cast, blue watching Fate from the corner of her eyes. She automatically scowls, because her sister is sleeping, and she doesn’t like the way the girl is looking at her.

“Good morning.” She says, and the child looks at her with wide eyes.

She is blushing, and it sends Alicia into a fit of anger. She smiles with a steely glint in her eyes. But the other girl can’t see it.

She is blinded by beauty.

“H-hi.”

Alicia crosses the room and takes a seat next to her twin. She gently takes the pale hand in hers, holds it to her lips, and kisses it. Fate’s skin is cold.

It makes the narcissist shiver.

You should be warm, Fate-chan…you’re always warm.

Fate is always warm, but she’s cold this time, and it scares her.

Eyes like wine flutter open, and Alicia looks up and stares, because even now, she still thinks that Fate is the most beautiful person she has ever seen.

Alicia Testarossa is a narcissist of the highest possible extent.

Her breathing is shallow, and her heart freezes. Fate looks at her with those affectionate eyes. Her hand is squeezed gently.

And then those eyes aren’t on her, anymore. They aren’t on her, anymore, they’re on the girl on the bed beside theirs, and there is something in Fate’s gaze that has never been there before.

“Good morning, Takamachi-san…”

There is something about the way Fate says the girl’s name that makes Alicia panic. That makes her feel entirely uncomfortable.

It’s in the way she sees their gazes connect. There is a tentative tenderness, there. The girl with the broken ankle glows.

And she has a beautiful smile, but all Alicia can think about is how she’s smiling at Fate in a way that is unmistakable. In a way that is entirely unambiguous.

She can feel the shifts, now.

She can feel them.

Nanoha’s hands are shaking as she stumbles inside.

The tapes are hidden in her pockets, and she is praying that she will be alone for the rest of the morning. She is praying that there will be no one home to see her bruises. That no one will be there to ask her how she got them.

She is lucky. Or maybe unlucky, depending on which way she looks at it.

There is no one home.

She limps up through the hallway and scrambles to get her door open. She pushes past it, forgetting about the blood she is getting all over the floor. She locks it behind her and takes off her jacket, and then she empties its pockets and watches as the tapes fall onto the mattress. She feels like throwing up, but there’s no time for that.

She discards the jacket and drags herself over to her desk. The drawers rattle as she looks for the old recorder she used to have.

She finds it and it takes her less than twenty seconds to jam the tape inside.

Her fingers are shaking.

She presses play.

And it begins.

“She’s sleeping right now, you know.” The sound of bed sheets crumpling. It is a lilting voice. It is the voice of the girl who had tormented her, who had beat her only an hour prior. “So we’d better leave her alone.”

The words confuse her. She doesn’t understand them.

“And she’s beautiful.”

She doesn’t want to understand them.

“But you can’t have her.”

It is no longer hard to understand them.

“She’s mine.”

She understands them.

There is the sound of a door opening and closing.

Then there is shallow breathing. Alicia is almost panting. It sends small shivers up and down her spine.

“She’s all mine…”

The desire in the girl’s voice leaves her breathless.

“…and you won’t ever have her.”

“Ne, Alicia?”

The blonde haired girl looks up from the recorder, from her baby, and into the eyes of her mirror. It is sitting on the edge of one of their kitchen stools, gazing at her with curiosity. It is a warm look. It is affectionate.

“Mhmm, Fate-chan?”

That red gaze makes her shiver. Warmth pools down to a spot between her legs.

She wants her.

“That recorder…what is its purpose?”

Laughter bubbles up in her throat. It is in the way that Fate asks her, in the way that she appears to be so genuinely interested as to why she has the recorder. It makes her smile, her hair splayed behind her, and she is beautiful. She is glorious.

Her little insect is still so unaware as she looks away, blushing, making a frustrated noise under her breath.

“You’re so formal and ask the strangest things, Fate-chan…” She whispers, once she is done laughing. “But that’s a good question.” She looks fondly at the recorder in her hands. “It’s to catch all the little moments…the times that make me happy or sad…to keep track of them…”

Fate hums, and it makes Alicia jump out of her seat, eager to please. She strides towards her, hand outstretched, grinning jovially.

“Want to say something?”

She asks her warmly, invitingly, and for a second, Fate’s eyes are terribly dark. The girl smiles crookedly.

It makes Alicia’s heart ache. She is so very beautiful, and so very oblivious.

“I love you.”

And she can’t control herself, then. She doesn’t know how to.

Fate gasps as she is pushed off the seat, and they both drop down to the floor. The stool is on its side, forgotten.

Every hair on her body stands on end. She wants Fate.

So badly.

“Kiss me, Fate-chan.”

Fate’s heart stops beating.

“I…”

“Kiss me…” And then the smallest, most sensual of whispers. “…everywhere.”

Fate gasps as Alicia’s hands rub against her through the fabric of her shirt. Her eyes darken with desire.

“Alicia…”

She moans.

Alicia kisses her, roughly, with no room for misinterpretation.

The tape runs out. What follows is not recorded.

Everything happens for a reason.

People had told her this many times before, but it is only now that she really believes there is any truth to the saying. She stuffs the tapes underneath her bed, buries them underneath things she has not used or seen since she was a child.

No one will find them there.

No one will know what to look for.

She is crying, and she knows it, but she can hardly bother to do anything about it. Her face is swollen as she walks out the door to her bedroom, as she locks the door behind her. She is not aware that her mother is in the kitchen, is not aware of the gasp the woman lets out at the sight of her bruises.

Parts of her don’t care, anymore.

She wants to see Fate Testarossa again, before anything else happens.

“Nanoha! What happened to you? Why didn’t you tell me you were home?”

She doesn’t answer. She is in too much of a daze, too dizzy, too consumed by the twisted passion that is Alicia Testarossa.

She throws up in the middle of her living room, and allows her mother to wipe her face with wet napkins. She can hardly manage to stand. But then she pushes those gentle, loving hands away, and walks out the door.

“I’m going to the hospital.” She says, and walks outside.

It isn’t raining, and it isn’t a terrible day. It’s a beautiful day. The sun is glowing.

Her mother offers her the keys to her car, and tells her that she will meet her there in a few minutes. That she will drive her there herself.

Nanoha smiles and waits until her mother slips back inside. And then she slides into the driver’s seat, places the keys in the ignition, and turns it on.

She drives to the hospital, and she knows the way by memory, now, because she’s been there so many times to visit Fate Testarossa. The girl she met when her ankle was broken.

The girl she fell in love with, who had already been tangled and wrapped in something else entirely.

Love and obsession. Jealousy and hatred.

She turns on the radio so she won’t be able to hear herself think.

“…an accident on the highway earlier today. A bus ran a motorcycle off the road. The bus driver and the passengers were uninjured, but…”

Shudders suddenly wrack her body.

She has to park on the side of the road in order to prevent an accident.

The fan above her head whirls in strange patterns, a dizzying thing that spins dead shadows across the walls.

She is sure that her fingers will break if she reaches up to stop it.

The mirror across from her is dusty, because it has not been used in years. Ages. It was her mother’s mirror. It was Precia Testarossa’s favorite before she died.

But maybe that was a lie. She’d had two other mirrors. Two identical replicas. Twins.

She’s not sure if they ever counted, to her, but she likes to think so anyway. And anyway, what use is it to think bad things about your parents once they’re dead?

They’ll still be dead, in the end, and it won’t be pleasant for you if they suddenly decide to come back to life and ground you for doing things you should not be doing.

Alicia Testarossa suddenly wonders what her mother would think if she knew what she and Fate had been doing, sneaking around under the covers.

It makes her grit her teeth in the strangest of expressions.

“Objects in mirror are closer than they appear.”

She tries to fix her expression as she speaks into the recorder, as she brings the thing to her lips, but it doesn’t work. It still gives her a strange, almost scary, appearance.

“You’ve all read that before, and I’m sure some of you think of it as an ominous warning. Personally, I never paid any attention to it. It was just there, engraved in a mirror, written on glass in a place that could never affect me. Nothing ever affects me, anymore…”

She lets the mask drop, for a few moments. Her voice isn’t playful. Her voice isn’t cheerful. It is lifeless. Overly serious.

It is her exact opposite. It is very much like Fate-chan.

“That warning was in your car, Fate-chan.” Her voice darkens, because she remembers everything. “Where were you that day, Fate-chan…?”

Her anguish is tangible in her words. She tries to cover it up. She fails.

She is always failing, now. Anxiety pours off her. She is scared. Even her reflection looks scared.

“What were you doing when it happened…? I still don’t know…I’m not even sure if I want to…”

She laughs hollowly, and briefly wonders what it would feel like to smash that mirror in with her bare hands.

Her mother would hate her for it. But then again, her mother is dead and in hell.

She punches it, feels the shards slice through her skin, and hisses.

“Oh…” She feels really rather surprised. It hurts much more than she’d thought it would. “It hurts…damn it…I’m going to have to…cut…this one short.”

She laughs, and it’s real, this time. She is delighted, because she has just realized that she could never bring herself to hurt Fate. She could never bring herself to smash the mirror in.

It would hurt too much. It would strike her too close to home. No matter how badly Fate-chan was behaving, she could never do it. She would never do it. Her stomach twists unpleasantly as she remembers the stares, the gazes.

She remembers, and feels sick.

“I still wonder, though…” She murmurs, and jealousy takes hold again. “When you hear this, will you be able to answer me? Because I want to know, Fate-chan…why were you so distracted?”

Tell me what you were thinking. Tell me who was worrying you. I’ll kill them. I’ll make them pay.

Her heart clenches. She hates the feeling.

“Where was your mind during that moment…in that time? Who were you thinking about when that car hit yours…? I want to know, Fate-chan…”

Her voice darkens. It is a sound of deep obsession. The fan whirs above her head.

For a brief second, she wants it to drop.

She wants it to end everything.

“Tell me it was me.”

When Takamachi Nanoha steps out of her mother’s car, her cell phone has been ringing for ten minutes straight.

It is her house phone, calling her. Her mother is probably in hysterics. For a brief moment, she feels a semblance of guilt running through her veins. Then it is gone, because she remembers.

The tapes. Alicia Testarossa. The beating. Italian words that made no sense to her.

She remembers Fate.

The news clip about the accident.

She walks through the parking lot, half staggering. Her ankle is still weak, but it is okay, it is fine, it will not break again.

She will make it past the lobby of the hospital, to room 219. She will find Fate safe and unharmed. She will find Alicia in that chair, watching her with those dark eyes.

Everything will be back to normal.

She steps through the sliding doors and into the lobby. The same receptionist is there, as she always is. She receives a kind smile when she finishes asking about Fate’s surgery.

The woman points her in the right direction.

She takes the elevator up a floor and walks through the same hallways, past the same rooms which are full of the same people, only to come face to face with the same doctor.

He smiles at her and takes her hand, leading her inside.

Fate is awake, and crying. Her eyes are still the same dark red, but there is an infinite amount of sorrow that was not there before.

Fate has changed, and it is not just the surgery that has changed her.

When Nanoha steps through the door, when those eyes land on hers, the dam breaks, and the twin sobs. She moves forward to gather the girl up in her arms, wary of the bandages, of the new and suddenly present smell of disinfectant.

“I can’t feel her there, anymore…” The girl gasps, and buries her head in Nanoha’s shoulder.

It takes the brown haired girl a few seconds to process the information. But then she understands, and she closes her eyes. Her mouth is dry when she swallows.

And it hurts so badly.

“She’s not there, anymore…”

And she isn’t sure how these bonds between twins work out. She isn’t sure how inextricable they are. How unexplainable, they are.

But Fate is sobbing as though she has lost something infinitely precious to her.

And that’s enough for Nanoha to understand.

There is a sharp, high-pitched ringing sound in her ears.

She thinks it is the wind. She is sure of it, in fact. She is more convinced of it than anything else she has ever felt certain about before.

She is weaving in and out of traffic, trying to escape the things she cannot bring herself to face. The things that hound and chase her, that will haunt her until the moment she dies.

And there is something strange about knowing certain things. Dramatic irony.

She remembers thinking it, before, and curses herself for being so fucking intuitive.

Of course she’d known all of this would happen. Of course she had known that Fate would find someone else, someone who would complement her more than she ever could.

But she is Fate’s twin. She is Fate’s other half. A mirror.

She’s a mirror, my mirror, I’m her mirror image, I am a narcissist, I am the one who was wrong in all of this, but who could ever understand you more than I can, Fate-chan? Who can understand you more than your own reflection?

“Who was the mirror all along, Fate-chan?” She whispers under her breath, and it is painful to admit it.

Who is the fly in their relationship? Who is truly the Venus flytrap?

She curses and switches lanes, because the thoughts are catching up to her and she doesn’t want them inside her head. She doesn’t want them in the one place she cannot escape them. She doesn’t want them to use Fate against her.

Because Fate couldn’t be used against her.

It would be a low blow, a dirty move, to use Fate against her, because Fate is her other half, Fate is her twin, Fate is her destiny.

She laughs humorlessly.

The sunlight catches on her blonde hair as she flies. It reflects off her helmet. People are blinded by her beauty. By the sun.

A bus swerves.

Crepi il lupo, Alicia.

The movement catches her eye. There is no time for anything except a minor feeling of alarm. Of shock.

“I love you, Alicia.”

A bizarre pain steals across her heart.

“No one can ever replace you.”

She smiles as her motorcycle jerks underneath her. As she plummets.

Il lupo è morto, Fate-chan. She thinks, a trailing thought, the last she will ever be able to have.

The wolf is dead.

A/N: 'Kay, so, first off, translation notes:

In bocca al lupo-Crepi il lupo: The first means 'in the mouth of the wolf'. To say good luck in Italian, you don't say 'buona fortuna', which is technically the literal translation. You would say 'In bocca al lupo', and the traditional reply is Crepi il lupo, which means, 'May the wolf die'. So basically, Alicia was wishing Fate good luck in her surgery. But because Alicia's a little off her rocker in this fic, she takes it a little bit farther.

Il lupo morirà: 'The wolf will die'.

Il lupo è morto: The wolf is dead.

Those are basically the most important things. Anyway, yeah. To clarify a few things, I used many, many metaphors and similes. Alicia does compare herself to 'the wolf' at the end, there.

Geh, the point is, if you didn't get a few things, that's okay, because I made it confusing on purpose. So, please, feel free to ask. I will post the explanations here as edits. And yes, I did do the disjointed scenes on purpose. I did everything on purpose. XD A lot of thought and time went into this thing.

This is dedicated to En-tan! Because I made it my goal to destroy you. XD And by that, I mean destroy your soul.

Edit: I totally forgot to hand out the translation for something.

Ciao, bella. Divertiti nell'inferno: "Goodbye, beautiful. Have fun in hell."