Sweet Friends
folder
M through R › Repo! The Genetic Opera
Rating:
Adult +
Chapters:
9
Views:
2,474
Reviews:
6
Recommended:
0
Currently Reading:
0
Category:
M through R › Repo! The Genetic Opera
Rating:
Adult +
Chapters:
9
Views:
2,474
Reviews:
6
Recommended:
0
Currently Reading:
0
Disclaimer:
I do not own Repo and I am not making any money from this story.
Sweet Friends
Shilo felt nothing but the sticky blood on her skin as she tried to walk out of the opera house, but got only as far as the lobby before the press had pounced upon her, cameras flashing in her eyes, voices filling her ears. Voices she couldn’t understand in her pain. The car Rotti Largo had sent to her was waiting at the curb, and the driver opened the door for her. She fell onto the seat gratefully. “Please,” she said, “please take me home.” Before the car even began to move a wave of pain rushed over her, the side effects of her “medicine” still damaging her system. She passed out and did wake until the car pulled up in front of her home. < My home, > she thought. It wasn’t her father’s house anymore. It just belonged to her.
*****
Shilo did not leave her house for days, but she could see her face and hear her voice being broadcasted all over the city, forcing her to relive the night of her father’s death over and over again until she just wanted to scream. As the poisons were flushed out if her system the flashes of pain became less and less, soon disappearing completely.
For the first time in her life she felt hungry, but she didn’t want to eat. Instead she just wrapped herself up in one of her father’s shirts and lay in his bed, smelling his scent and remembering.
*****
The third day after Nathan Wallace died Shilo woke up to a loud pounding on the door, echoing though the house. She stumbled down the stairs and into the gloomy main hallway. < You’re not supposed to open the door, > she thought, and pulled open the heavy door anyway.
The very last person she expected to see in front of her was Amber Sweet, her face restored to its former glory, wearing a fur-trimmed pink suit and high heels. She had changed her hair—it was blond now. “Good morning,” she said, her voice short and clipped as she let herself in, followed by her two shirtless body guards. “Man, this place is a dump,” she said, looking around until her eyes rested on Shilo. “You look like hell.”
The teenager was wearing her father’s shirt with the sleeves rolled up and nothing else, her knees peaking out from the hem and her long wig tangled and askew on her head. “Thanks,” Shilo said. “I just lost my father.”
“So did I,” Amber said, and her voice wavered, something Shilo would not have expected from her. The only female in the Largo clan recovered quickly. “GeneCo has taken up the task of holding a joint funeral for both your father and Blind Mag,” she said. “We need you to be there.”
Shilo wrapped her arms tight around herself. “I thought you hated Mag.”
“I don’t hate anyone,” Amber said emphatically. “I just love myself more. She was the star—but she was old, worn out. It was my turn. I wanted to be the star.”
“And Amber Sweet gets what she wants.”
“Damn right I do,” Amber said. “The funeral is tonight. I’ll send a car for you.”
“And if I don’t want to come?”
Amber gave her a slow smile. “My dear, that is not an option.”
*****
After Amber left Shilo looked out the window. There were reporters in her yard, and when they saw her face they rushed the front of the house, pounding on the door and rapping on the glass. < Why do you still love the man who poisoned you what does it feel like to give up GeneCo who do you think will take over the company what was your relationship with Blind Mag— >
Shilo backed away from the window and fled upstairs, shutting herself up in her room. She looked around—it was the room of a child, full of stuffed animals and toys. He hadn’t wanted her to grow up, but to remain his little girl forever. And she might have, if he had kept poisoning her.
All of the rage she had been feeling towards her father erupted as she stared at her room. He had stolen away seventeen years of her life, locking her in that little room. She couldn’t mourn him forever. She had to be free.
Shilo stepped forward and ripped the hypoallergenic curtains from her bed and tossed them to the floor, and slammed open the window to start tossing stuffed animals out of the room, the curtains following, and all of the lying medical equipment—she smashed it into pieces before letting them fall through the window as well.
The exertion left her panting and out of breath, but alive—she had never exercised like that without alarm bells ringing in her ears warning her about her blood pressure, right before she would faint. She didn’t feel faint or even dizzy now, just deliciously, entirely alive.
*****
Shilo took a long hot shower and ate, devouring half the food in the kitchen it seemed. She was amazed that there could be so many flavors, so much texture, instead of the bland soups and broths her father made her eat. *He* always ate well enough, she knew, and was determined to try a little bit of everything.
As evening approached she dug through her closet for clothes, but came up short. He dressed her like a little girl as well. Everything was a short schoolgirl outfit, nothing fitting for her father’s funeral. < I’m not going to cry anymore, > she promised herself as she flipped through her closet. < Not for him. Maybe for myself. > And she returned to her father’s room to the closet where she knew her mother’s old clothes still hung. Her mother had been the beginning of this, and now she was going to end it as well. And after that?
She had no idea.
*****
Shilo did not leave her house for days, but she could see her face and hear her voice being broadcasted all over the city, forcing her to relive the night of her father’s death over and over again until she just wanted to scream. As the poisons were flushed out if her system the flashes of pain became less and less, soon disappearing completely.
For the first time in her life she felt hungry, but she didn’t want to eat. Instead she just wrapped herself up in one of her father’s shirts and lay in his bed, smelling his scent and remembering.
*****
The third day after Nathan Wallace died Shilo woke up to a loud pounding on the door, echoing though the house. She stumbled down the stairs and into the gloomy main hallway. < You’re not supposed to open the door, > she thought, and pulled open the heavy door anyway.
The very last person she expected to see in front of her was Amber Sweet, her face restored to its former glory, wearing a fur-trimmed pink suit and high heels. She had changed her hair—it was blond now. “Good morning,” she said, her voice short and clipped as she let herself in, followed by her two shirtless body guards. “Man, this place is a dump,” she said, looking around until her eyes rested on Shilo. “You look like hell.”
The teenager was wearing her father’s shirt with the sleeves rolled up and nothing else, her knees peaking out from the hem and her long wig tangled and askew on her head. “Thanks,” Shilo said. “I just lost my father.”
“So did I,” Amber said, and her voice wavered, something Shilo would not have expected from her. The only female in the Largo clan recovered quickly. “GeneCo has taken up the task of holding a joint funeral for both your father and Blind Mag,” she said. “We need you to be there.”
Shilo wrapped her arms tight around herself. “I thought you hated Mag.”
“I don’t hate anyone,” Amber said emphatically. “I just love myself more. She was the star—but she was old, worn out. It was my turn. I wanted to be the star.”
“And Amber Sweet gets what she wants.”
“Damn right I do,” Amber said. “The funeral is tonight. I’ll send a car for you.”
“And if I don’t want to come?”
Amber gave her a slow smile. “My dear, that is not an option.”
*****
After Amber left Shilo looked out the window. There were reporters in her yard, and when they saw her face they rushed the front of the house, pounding on the door and rapping on the glass. < Why do you still love the man who poisoned you what does it feel like to give up GeneCo who do you think will take over the company what was your relationship with Blind Mag— >
Shilo backed away from the window and fled upstairs, shutting herself up in her room. She looked around—it was the room of a child, full of stuffed animals and toys. He hadn’t wanted her to grow up, but to remain his little girl forever. And she might have, if he had kept poisoning her.
All of the rage she had been feeling towards her father erupted as she stared at her room. He had stolen away seventeen years of her life, locking her in that little room. She couldn’t mourn him forever. She had to be free.
Shilo stepped forward and ripped the hypoallergenic curtains from her bed and tossed them to the floor, and slammed open the window to start tossing stuffed animals out of the room, the curtains following, and all of the lying medical equipment—she smashed it into pieces before letting them fall through the window as well.
The exertion left her panting and out of breath, but alive—she had never exercised like that without alarm bells ringing in her ears warning her about her blood pressure, right before she would faint. She didn’t feel faint or even dizzy now, just deliciously, entirely alive.
*****
Shilo took a long hot shower and ate, devouring half the food in the kitchen it seemed. She was amazed that there could be so many flavors, so much texture, instead of the bland soups and broths her father made her eat. *He* always ate well enough, she knew, and was determined to try a little bit of everything.
As evening approached she dug through her closet for clothes, but came up short. He dressed her like a little girl as well. Everything was a short schoolgirl outfit, nothing fitting for her father’s funeral. < I’m not going to cry anymore, > she promised herself as she flipped through her closet. < Not for him. Maybe for myself. > And she returned to her father’s room to the closet where she knew her mother’s old clothes still hung. Her mother had been the beginning of this, and now she was going to end it as well. And after that?
She had no idea.