VioletHoodie

If the shoe fits, wear it

It’s like her own bit of heaven, he not-so-figuratively represents a balm for her soul.

It’s during those moments when her head feels like a giant stone and she’s too numb to lift it from where it rests between her arms, he wordlessly raises a blanket from who knows where and covers her, careful not to touch her too much.
When it feels like her mind is too full of self-doubt, deprecation, memories of words too noisy to fall asleep, she hears him humming a melody from just outside her door, close enough to be called in case of need but not as much to intrude her space.

When it feels like her brain can conjure up nothing but nasty pictures for her, his fingers kindly braid her silvery strands into cute, simple shapes, the motions relieving her throbbing forehead.

“You pathetic wretch”
A shiver, swiftly running to her spine makes her jump up from her mattress.

“What did they think could have been accomplished by putting effort in raising you?”
She feels
Her breath catches mid-way through her throat, it feels like being strangled by the nothing surrounding her.

“You’re nothing more than an empty, useless sack of bones”
Am invisible, burning punch to her stomach sets in and makes its way to her ru cage, up to her larynx.
She feels sickness setting just before her lower lip, in her nostrils.

“You should be grateful I was merciful enough not to tear you to pieces when you first failed me”
Her head is spinning, even as she’s laying motionlessly tactility is seemingly lost to her, she can’t grasp nothing, can reach out to nothing.

Can’t reach up to no one.

Until she can.

She feels a warmth gradually come to her, energy reaching and arriving to the core of her body like an electric bolt, spiritually snapping her out of her paralysis, and a sweet scent - tangerines?

She stops in her tracks and tries to concentrate on that scent, conjuring up an image, an idea.

Then her whole form feels like it’s being released from a long kept position, a couple of imaginary chains come off from her wrists slipping along her hands and vanish into white-ish petals.
But this time she knows it’s not her mind pulling jokes on her.

Light is actually there, she stands in the midst of it.

It finally clicked.

Through her blurry vision, breath after breath, she thinks she can distinguish something, some kind of colour.

Ah, yes. She knows that gradation, that familiar and comforting cerulean blue.

She recognizes the shade as the distinctive one of his favorite hoodie.
Now aware of her surroundings, she notices his presence beside her; he has his arms gently wrapped around her, she realizes: to her delight, he managed to practically hug her without having their chest touch, and as unimportant and as silly a fact that might currently seem she finds it keeps her from losing the control she barely regained over herself.

“How do you feel ?”

His voice, barely a whisper near her ear sounds like the equivalent to a caress in a sea of loud screams - it soothes her, his every word, his every action, his everything makes her feel at peace If only a bit.
She silently lifts her arms to slightly tug at his sleeve, then raises her head enough to look at him.

It comes out without her even thinking or needing to force it out like so often happened in the past - she smiles at him, offers him one small genuine sign of gratitude for his presence there.