“Not with shit like that.”
it’s just you.” Reaching over to take one of the remaining
brownies. Hey, since she made them she might as well enjoy them.
“Then you lied to me. I can’t believe this — you lied to me. I thought we could trust each other more than that.”
He actually ate the brownies.
“That’s a good question I unfortunately do not know.”
Plops down next to him.
”You definitely told me you knew everything though. Something like that."
It could be worse. He could be all touch-feely. The opposite, actually. He kind of leans away from her when she gets close. “Is it hot in here? It feels really hot in here."
” ….. Circe…. Circe — why is it called quicksand if it moves really slow?”
i beat the evil within (i liveblogged a little bit of it on my other account). kinda want to write / read a drabble so i can get some damned closure. feel kinda dead inside tbh
…Something was holding her.. It was warm, strong, and protective.. A voice is screaming in the distance. Deep, thick with an accent.. It doesn’t quite register because even though she’s there, she’s not really there.
She’s in a place standing over them, watching Alex as he held onto her. Watching as he calls for a doctor, trying to get help. Temperance is limp.. Her good eye has grown empty as her breathing shallows.. She feels so dead in his arms.. But she still has a pulse.. It’s pounding through her veins violently as if something within her is determined to keep going.
But to Temperance’s mind, the world has faded.. She’s no longer reliving the experience but seeing it in third person.. Watching as they carved her eye out and interrogated her.. Watched them ditch her at the docks and as the vandals tried to essentially torture and possibly rape her… Then Alex came about.. Saved her.. She needed him so badly..
She needed him to survive..
He stayed by her side the whole time.. He never once left it until the nurses ushered him away — but first…. that kiss… That sole… amazing… heartbreaking kiss.. And still he waited, stayed awake for so long.. Why was he so damn loyal to her? They came and got him, and Tempy swears she could see it all unfolding..
Even if it were her mind making it all up; piecing the pieces together over fragments of memories…
Awake.. and they’re talking.. He’s angry.. so angry.. and she’s upset…
Then the fights.. And everything goes downhill..
She’s standing back overlooking Alex holding Temperance, and as her eyes close, her body jerks slightly in his arms. A sharp, painful breath fills her lungs as her body quakes with pain, hands scrambling to grab a hold of Alex, “NO! NO!! Don’t DON’T!” she’s frantic; afraid, grabbing and releasing individually as if she’s trying to figure out reality.
"Don’t leave me!" Temperance screams as nurses rush into the room, but she has an iron grip on Alex and she’s refusing to let go, "D-don’t.." her sole eye opens to gaze upon Alex desperately, "Don’t… don’t leave me— I—I can’t.. I ne—" before she can finish her sentence, a nurse injects her with a sedative, immediately knocking her out cold.
They look towards Alex with questioning gazes.. Some with scrutiny, others with concern. Questions about what happened would assault Alex as they try to usher him from the room whilst the others carefully tend to Temperance, stripping her and putting her in a new hospital gown as well as re-dress her wounds and such. She would need to be watched more closely now.
There’s this rising emotion in the back of his throat but no matter how many times he opens his mouth to let it out, it never surfaces. Because when the bile rises in his stomach, he finds that it anxiously stirs around for some time, but never materializes. Is he no longer capable of feeling anything but hurt and regret? Is he going to be a shell brimming with hot air and stale sorrow for the rest of his life?
Because no matter how hard he tries to feel anything but this void, he always ends up at the same point: staring at a closed door like someone is just going to hand him an answer that he’s been waiting four years for. But all that he’s handed is more questions; questions about what happened and whether he had any part in it. He did, of course, but he only gives them a blank stare in response; his face lacks any real significant indicators of what he’s feeling. Even the creases on his brow and at the corners of his eyes have seemingly flattened. Somewhere along the way, he forgot how to feel anything.
But consciously he recognizes that he should be distraught. And maybe he is — some semblance of horror is riling in him but it still just sits there. So the staff starts questioning whether or not it’s a good idea that he stays. And they tell him that he has no obligation to stay.
And you wouldn’t be surprised to see that he has no change in expression. He doesn’t even reply to their suggestions. He just stands there, absolutely certain that she’s going to be alright despite his gut feeling otherwise; waiting for someone to tell him that she’s conscious again.
“My god you are stubborn.” Rolling her eyes, she turns around to inspect the room further. Really she just wanted him to stop breathing down her neck for a minute. She was perfectly capable of straightening the room without him.
“If I didn’t know any better I’d swear you were the bridezilla. I haven’t seen Irina in here since I brought the cake in.”
“Well she’s… you know —" he half shrugs, making a waving gesture with his hands. " — social. She likes to talk to people."
He wants to pace, but he keeps himself from doing so despite the urge. It’s a nervous tic — one that he’s having a hard time keeping down. Now, he wouldn’t peg himself as a perfectionist, but he does wish he could be as laid back as his fiancee. She’s probably floating around with their friends right now… he kind of wishes he didn’t have such horrible anxiety about it all.
“But she shouldn’t have to worry about it, you know?”