|
|
Post by Script on Dec 28, 2011 21:17:01 GMT -5
It was gone.
The pain, the blood. The baby. Her hopes and dreams. Her happiness. All of it was gone.
Script lay in one of the infirmary beds, staring at a spot on the wall. Between Skittery and Wraith, they'd forced her to rest, drink water, eat something.
But she hadn't talked, nothing more than one word responses. She didn't have anything to say.
|
|
|
|
Post by Skittery on Dec 28, 2011 21:23:21 GMT -5
Skittery was feeling about the same way. He spoke to Maggie only, and only because he knew she needed to hear him. Or maybe she didn't. He really didn't know. But he mainly just steered clear of everyone else.
He stopped in the infirmary on his way out; he'd taken to roaming the streets whenever he wasn't selling or with Maggie. It gave him time to think. And time to cry. He hadn't thought he'd ever cry as much as he had when his parents had died, but he'd been proven wrong.
"Hey, Mags," he said softly, hands in his pockets. "Need anything?"
|
|
|
|
Post by Script on Dec 28, 2011 21:41:55 GMT -5
She rolled her head to look at him. He was so tall, so handsome. His face broke her heart every time she looked at it.
"Sit with me a minute?"
|
|
|
|
Post by Skittery on Dec 28, 2011 21:57:11 GMT -5
He nodded before heading over to her bed, sitting down on the edge.
"How...how're you doing?" he asked, eyes fixed on one of her hands.
|
|
|
|
Post by Script on Dec 28, 2011 21:58:37 GMT -5
She was still wearing the bracelet he'd given her for Christmas. She hadn't taken it off, not once.
"I'm--" Hurting, sad, depressed, lonely. "...tired."
|
|
|
|
Post by Skittery on Dec 28, 2011 22:00:49 GMT -5
He could tell she meant more than that. Tired of life. Because he was, too.
"You hungry? I could get you something from Tibby's, if you wanted..."
|
|
|
|
Post by Script on Dec 28, 2011 22:06:20 GMT -5
She shook her head. "I'm okay for right now. I just...I want you to just hold me a while...if that's okay..."
|
|
|
|
Post by Skittery on Dec 28, 2011 22:08:19 GMT -5
"Yeah, a'course," he replied. He laid down on the bed next to her, facing her, and gathered her to his chest. His hands settled on her back, rubbing softly.
|
|
|
|
Post by Script on Dec 28, 2011 22:09:24 GMT -5
She curled herself into his embrace, quiet for a long while before finally breathing out. "I'm so sorry, Michael..."
|
|
|
|
Post by Skittery on Dec 28, 2011 22:15:15 GMT -5
He could've cried at the sound of her voice. "No, Mags. Don't say that. Don't even think it."
|
|
|
|
Post by Script on Dec 28, 2011 22:18:55 GMT -5
She nuzzled against him, chewing on her bottom lip. "I--I should have taken better care...it's my own fault..."
|
|
|
|
Post by Skittery on Dec 28, 2011 22:24:14 GMT -5
"Hey, stop it," he said, a bit more forcefully than he'd intended. He sighed, then softened his voice. "Mags, it's not your fault. These things happen."
|
|
|
|
Post by Script on Dec 28, 2011 22:27:28 GMT -5
She winced, her bottom lip trembling. "But--but it shouldn't have. We--we were gonna be happy..."
|
|
|
|
Post by Skittery on Dec 28, 2011 22:30:41 GMT -5
"We're still going to be happy, I promise." Actually he didn't know if he could make that promise. But he would for her.
"When your mom died, did you think you were ever going to be happy again?"
|
|
|
|
Post by Script on Dec 28, 2011 22:33:48 GMT -5
She shook her head a little. "No...no, I guess I didn't...but...oh, Michael...I--I wanted that baby..."
|
|
