Her chest is tight. Her breath escapes small and shuddering.
He wouldn't lie to her. This isn't a joke. She barely gives that a first thought, and certainly not a second.
That means something has happened. Something has been done to him -- perhaps done to them both if she's here in this place with him. Something that can do that . . . it's a thing to be feared, bigger than them both.
The urge is there: Unleash her wings. Fly away. Escape and outrun.
. . . But that would mean leaving him.
And that she can't do at all.
"It's okay." Her words are a breath -- more to soothe than imply that anything actually is okay. It's okay that he doesn't remember those things. For now it has to be. She fights back the tightening squeeze of her ribs and chest, groping for a way to continue to soothe and yet get the information she needs.
"Pretend . . . pretend I'm the one who doesn't know. Who doesn't remember. Tell me who you are. Then . . . I can tell you."
no subject
Her chest is tight. Her breath escapes small and shuddering.
He wouldn't lie to her. This isn't a joke. She barely gives that a first thought, and certainly not a second.
That means something has happened. Something has been done to him -- perhaps done to them both if she's here in this place with him. Something that can do that . . . it's a thing to be feared, bigger than them both.
The urge is there: Unleash her wings. Fly away. Escape and outrun.
. . . But that would mean leaving him.
And that she can't do at all.
"It's okay." Her words are a breath -- more to soothe than imply that anything actually is okay. It's okay that he doesn't remember those things. For now it has to be. She fights back the tightening squeeze of her ribs and chest, groping for a way to continue to soothe and yet get the information she needs.
"Pretend . . . pretend I'm the one who doesn't know. Who doesn't remember. Tell me who you are. Then . . . I can tell you."
"Is that okay?"