[She watches him, air caught in her chest. Eyes flicking to the hand — what happened while I was out? — then to his own gaze. The sincerity in it cuts her nearly as deep as the glass did.]
I'm...
[Grateful? Frightened? Certain you made the wrong call? Send me back, the rest of them need to live more?
Her hand flies to her face and she turns away, but there's no disguising the sudden flood of tears. Words scream at her from across her body, scars tingling with accusations. She never considered herself at risk of suicide. Just rending her own skin. Living seemed like a non-negotiable condition. She could spiral all she wanted, but she'd put up with carrying on. But did she want to live?
Now that the question's been asked and answered for her, she isn't sure she agrees. Not at this price.]
I'm sorry. [A failed attempt at a collected response. She heaves and tries again.] I'm sorry. I'll — fuck. Jesus Christ, I'm sorry, give me a second, I'm...
[She should be saying thank you. The words are too big. They're blocking her up, damming the thin slit her throat has closed to.]
cw: mentions of self harm, suicidal thoughts
I'm...
[Grateful? Frightened? Certain you made the wrong call? Send me back, the rest of them need to live more?
Her hand flies to her face and she turns away, but there's no disguising the sudden flood of tears. Words scream at her from across her body, scars tingling with accusations. She never considered herself at risk of suicide. Just rending her own skin. Living seemed like a non-negotiable condition. She could spiral all she wanted, but she'd put up with carrying on. But did she want to live?
Now that the question's been asked and answered for her, she isn't sure she agrees. Not at this price.]
I'm sorry. [A failed attempt at a collected response. She heaves and tries again.] I'm sorry. I'll — fuck. Jesus Christ, I'm sorry, give me a second, I'm...
[She should be saying thank you. The words are too big. They're blocking her up, damming the thin slit her throat has closed to.]