09-08-2018, 08:55 PM
Natalie had never coveted silence, but this was the softest lullaby she had ever known. The tension eased out of Jay's muscles, his breaths rhythmic like waves. Warmth suffused through, flesh and blood real, and her breathing deepened, rocking on the edge of drifting. Any sort of peaceful sleep was a well earned victory these days. The yearn for comfort was deep. She was about to tug him backwards. Innocent, for once.
Then she was back on the bed, taking (it felt) an inordinately long amount of time to fall into its softness. This time she curled up, pulling a pillow into her arms, pale hair mussed in a veil over her face, eyes already closed.
At least until something pierced the quiet. She pushed herself up, pillow still in her lap. But bleary-eyed focus found little more than confusion. It took a minute. It took more than a minute. But her brows lowered, coolness wrapping her veins. Sobriety was a long way off, but the sting of fear at least made her feel more alert.
Jay wore the face of a devil; swarmed by darkness. But it was the bodies deposited on the floor she was looking at. A clearer head might have intervened upon the situation with habitual calm; wielded it expertly, made sense of the chaos. Instead she sank back against the headboard and tried to blink a path through her sluggish thoughts. "You bring me the nicest gifts. But I don't think I can put them in a vase."
She drew her knees up; balanced her chin in a palm. At least to give her head something to rest on. Her brows were still furled in a confused frown, but recognition did muffle through the haze. Not that it made anything remotely clearer. "I saw them at the hospital," she said. "But I don't think they're here because I called them assholes."
Then she was back on the bed, taking (it felt) an inordinately long amount of time to fall into its softness. This time she curled up, pulling a pillow into her arms, pale hair mussed in a veil over her face, eyes already closed.
At least until something pierced the quiet. She pushed herself up, pillow still in her lap. But bleary-eyed focus found little more than confusion. It took a minute. It took more than a minute. But her brows lowered, coolness wrapping her veins. Sobriety was a long way off, but the sting of fear at least made her feel more alert.
Jay wore the face of a devil; swarmed by darkness. But it was the bodies deposited on the floor she was looking at. A clearer head might have intervened upon the situation with habitual calm; wielded it expertly, made sense of the chaos. Instead she sank back against the headboard and tried to blink a path through her sluggish thoughts. "You bring me the nicest gifts. But I don't think I can put them in a vase."
She drew her knees up; balanced her chin in a palm. At least to give her head something to rest on. Her brows were still furled in a confused frown, but recognition did muffle through the haze. Not that it made anything remotely clearer. "I saw them at the hospital," she said. "But I don't think they're here because I called them assholes."