Day Two Hundred-Twenty: That child just ain't right

We're outside Bottomless today, diary. Parked on the outskirts. I've been so busy trying to get through to Eve that I barely noticed the trip. Go figure, eh?

I was concerned overnight that Libby wouldn't wake up in the morning. She's sporting some vicious bruises after her fight with Eve, and she's got a bit of a limp. Didn't complain once when she got outta bed, though, and she set to maintenance work with quiet gusto. As in, not talking to me gusto.

I'm used to being shunned, so, ah, I went about my usual duties when I have nothing else to do on the road: trying to spit far enough out of the front portholes to hit the Matriarch's wheels. You never know when that talent could come in handy. Did it for hours, too, which might say something about my attention span.

Wait. Does it…? Does that mean I have a GOOD attention span, or a pitiful one because I'm amused by spit…?

Hrm.

Troubling revelations about my sense of entertainment. Spit is cheap, though, so it's good to know I can afford a fun time on a very low budget…

So yeah. I spat for several hours. Spat 'til my mouth dried and my tongue begged for mercy. Hell, I kept it up 'til it was dark out, 'cause I didn't wanna face my wife after making such a stupid suggestion, and I didn't wanna face my daughter 'cause she'd beat up my wife, and I didn't wanna talk to my QUEEN because she'd be mad for me telling my daughter to beat up my wife. And when all of these people are about thirty feet away at all times, it's tough to avoid 'em all.

Complex.

I had to talk to Libby eventually. We didn't get divorced after the fight, last I'd checked, and I wanted to know how she was feeling. Shortly after we'd stopped for the night, on the outskirts of Borderless, I brought her some food. More meat pie.

She accepted it tenderly. She'd worked her fingers to the bone, and the rest of her body was still sore from Eve's pounding. "Thanks."

"No problem." I shovelled a bite of my own pie into my mouth. "Sooooo… how ya… feeling?"

She pointed at her left eye. It was almost swollen shut.

"Oh. Yeah. Um… yeah. There's that. Howzzat?"

Libby shook her head. "Just eat your pie, stupid."

We munched in silence for a few minutes, and I fetched her water to wash down the pastry. Libby commented that HER pies didn't need washing down. I was soooo tempted to say that they didn't need washing down 'cause nobody will eat them, but that's a secret I'll keep between you and me, diary.

We watched the stars come out, and I even dared to wrap my arm over Libby's shoulder. She fidgeted a little bit, but eventually she snuggled in close, and I knew I was forgiven. Hell, I don't think she ever blamed me for the fight. Makes sense - she DID kinda charge off on her own, and refuse to listen to reason. Girls are so impulsive.

So I didn't ask her about that. I did use the moment to ask her something I'd wondered about for a real long time, something I'd asked during arguments but not, y'know, ASKED:

"Why do you hate our daughter so much?"

Any other time, Libby woulda scowled, tossed my arm away, and run off. This time - perhaps 'cause she was drowsy from a pain salve the doctor had fed her, which doesn't quite sound right to me, but anyway - she actually answered:

"She's not right, Dragomir. As soon as she got shoved into my bloody womb, I knew. She's a monster that's not supposed to exist."

"Okay…" I held her tighter. "What do you think she'll do?"

Libby gave me a frank look, pursing her lips. She felt sorry for me, I could tell. "She'll wreck everything. Whatever… whatever that means. She'll wreck everything, and there won't be any pieces left t'pick up. You know?"

I shook my head. "Nope. Don't. Sorry."

"Yeah."

Libby shrugged me off. She plodded up the ramp of the Matriarch, towards her bed, leaving me sitting on the grass. I sighed and looked back at the stars.

"Although…"

She was standing at the top of the ramp, looking off in the distance. Watching Eve, sitting by herself in the fields, ignoring everyone.

"She's got my arms. Hell of a right on that kid, hell of a right."

And that, diary, is how I know that Libby wants to love Eve.

Sincerely,

Dragomir the Guard