09-09-2018, 10:34 AM
She watched him, battlements insurmountable, and felt like she was leaning at the edge of an epiphany, that if she could just reach that little bit further over the reckless edge she would capture something precious.
It seemed the most haunting and familiar melody. Words were useless weapons then, but she knew with certainty that when the black mist faded, when guilt and regret seeped in to pack the new wound, she would still be here.
Not to heal it, but to make it bearable.
She was drifting again, despite best intentions and the strangers bound in her room. A thought spread like ripples as she tried to focus on the flittering words. Cayli. Men and guns and the fear in Jay's eyes as he screeched them from the hospital. The pillow abandoned, she began a slow search for her wallet through the mussed blankets. Until another thought subsumed a greater ripple. Even under the influence her expression had the uncanny ability to shut down; to blanket the churning within with something smooth and empty as glass.
Grey.
She's Grey.
She's Grey.
"Shit."
The world shuddered hard. Understanding beat relentless at locked doors, but she didn't want to answer. Her eyes squeezed closed against a brittle anger, flaking away to helplessness, when the buzz shrilled from her bag on the floor.
She wondered if Jay would realise her wallet wasn't in that bag.
Natalie was unequipped for the journey, but she also knew now was not the time for him to accidentally pull that white envelope from her luggage. That was a truth that needed to come from her.
She clambered over the bed like she battled ocean waves, the room tilting maddeningly. Almost pitched off the end before she remembered to use her feet. Why was this so difficult? A few awkward steps brought her to the wall. She sank down gratefully, but everything inside carried on churning.
Finally slumped on the floor she fumbled with the zip pocket, fingers clumsy. Hideously slow. Azu's travel bible spilled out with the miniscule wallet her dad had left in the apartment. The screen was dark and silent now, but the merest touch rekindled its glow. Words blurred. The room lurched enough to turn her stomach no matter how still she tried to keep herself.
"I was coming to find you. Before. Jay, we really need to talk." Eyes open or closed it made little difference now. It was one small shift from warm, drowsy contentedness to the colder grip of nausea. Exhaustion nipped a sharp bite, though she doubted the sleep would be peaceful any longer. "When I'm sober," she amended regretfully. "We really need to talk when I'm sober."
Her face was still, pinched only by the bleariness of how sick she was starting to feel. After a moment she held the device out. Slimmer than a commercial wallet, and sleeker too, like something yet to hit the market.
"The room is spinning. What does it say?"
Her breath tightened like an actual pain as she let go. Natalie rarely lied; she was a creature of brutal truth, hard and uncompromising. But even that was a shield in its own way, for she wasn't open either. Her multitudes were contained; the good and the bad, the sins and the joy.
Aaron discovered it, and she recoiled rather than bridge the gap. Her mother lost all confidence when their family splintered and proved its threads of loyalty a sham. She'd counted Azu a close friend, his loss a devestation, but he had never pushed her to difficult topics. Natalie had no one, but it was a purposeful isolation. The one person she had ever needed cast her aside, and she doled out the same punishment spitefully to all others.
Though even that was a connection broken now.
God, she felt dizzy.
Natalie watched Jay with that little piece of her life she had never wanted to share. Remembered the touch of his hand against her wrist like the rest of the world faded against a silent promise. She'd never looked for a hero; her cynic's heart scoffed at the asanine idea. She didn't see a saviour either.
She saw company in the dark places. The morbid smirk of a like soul. Arms that did not try to pull her towards light she sometimes could not see, but simply sheltered.
The words were a wrench. Three tiny little words that pulled a plug from her heart.
"It's my dad."
It seemed the most haunting and familiar melody. Words were useless weapons then, but she knew with certainty that when the black mist faded, when guilt and regret seeped in to pack the new wound, she would still be here.
Not to heal it, but to make it bearable.
She was drifting again, despite best intentions and the strangers bound in her room. A thought spread like ripples as she tried to focus on the flittering words. Cayli. Men and guns and the fear in Jay's eyes as he screeched them from the hospital. The pillow abandoned, she began a slow search for her wallet through the mussed blankets. Until another thought subsumed a greater ripple. Even under the influence her expression had the uncanny ability to shut down; to blanket the churning within with something smooth and empty as glass.
Grey.
She's Grey.
She's Grey.
"Shit."
The world shuddered hard. Understanding beat relentless at locked doors, but she didn't want to answer. Her eyes squeezed closed against a brittle anger, flaking away to helplessness, when the buzz shrilled from her bag on the floor.
She wondered if Jay would realise her wallet wasn't in that bag.
Natalie was unequipped for the journey, but she also knew now was not the time for him to accidentally pull that white envelope from her luggage. That was a truth that needed to come from her.
She clambered over the bed like she battled ocean waves, the room tilting maddeningly. Almost pitched off the end before she remembered to use her feet. Why was this so difficult? A few awkward steps brought her to the wall. She sank down gratefully, but everything inside carried on churning.
Finally slumped on the floor she fumbled with the zip pocket, fingers clumsy. Hideously slow. Azu's travel bible spilled out with the miniscule wallet her dad had left in the apartment. The screen was dark and silent now, but the merest touch rekindled its glow. Words blurred. The room lurched enough to turn her stomach no matter how still she tried to keep herself.
"I was coming to find you. Before. Jay, we really need to talk." Eyes open or closed it made little difference now. It was one small shift from warm, drowsy contentedness to the colder grip of nausea. Exhaustion nipped a sharp bite, though she doubted the sleep would be peaceful any longer. "When I'm sober," she amended regretfully. "We really need to talk when I'm sober."
Her face was still, pinched only by the bleariness of how sick she was starting to feel. After a moment she held the device out. Slimmer than a commercial wallet, and sleeker too, like something yet to hit the market.
"The room is spinning. What does it say?"
Her breath tightened like an actual pain as she let go. Natalie rarely lied; she was a creature of brutal truth, hard and uncompromising. But even that was a shield in its own way, for she wasn't open either. Her multitudes were contained; the good and the bad, the sins and the joy.
Aaron discovered it, and she recoiled rather than bridge the gap. Her mother lost all confidence when their family splintered and proved its threads of loyalty a sham. She'd counted Azu a close friend, his loss a devestation, but he had never pushed her to difficult topics. Natalie had no one, but it was a purposeful isolation. The one person she had ever needed cast her aside, and she doled out the same punishment spitefully to all others.
Though even that was a connection broken now.
God, she felt dizzy.
Natalie watched Jay with that little piece of her life she had never wanted to share. Remembered the touch of his hand against her wrist like the rest of the world faded against a silent promise. She'd never looked for a hero; her cynic's heart scoffed at the asanine idea. She didn't see a saviour either.
She saw company in the dark places. The morbid smirk of a like soul. Arms that did not try to pull her towards light she sometimes could not see, but simply sheltered.
The words were a wrench. Three tiny little words that pulled a plug from her heart.
"It's my dad."