vox mortem; the conjuring

ƒινє; ιмαgιηαяιυм

Three spirits had communicated with Ed and Lorraine that afternoon. And now, three scratch marks were shining bright red on Jane's shoulder blades.

She had locked herself in one of the bathrooms as soon as they had all decided to end the session for that day, now standing before the mirror with her back facing to it, straining her head to look over her shoulder and dab a wet towel over the injuries. She tried hard to focus on the fresh streaks, but it was impossible to keep her eyes from straying to the several faded, white ones among them. This was the price she paid - an owning mark from each spirit she had invited into her body. They weren't deep, but the scars they left would remain forever.

As the blood finally stopped flowing, Jane carelessly threw the red-stained towel into the sink, hissing at the strain of her skin as she reached for her shirt and put it back on. She would need to change it later as the bleeding stains had soaked through, but with its dark colored material and her cloak, they were quite easy to hide for the moment.

With her lips tightly pressed onto each other to stop herself from making any more pained noises, Jane then violently scrubbed the towel clean under running water, not stopping until the blood had all washed out and the water ran clear as she pressed it out. No one was allowed to know.

A knock at the door made her jump, sharply inhale at the uncomfortable stinging that came right as she did. Of course - someone always managed to disturb her peace in moments where disturbance was least welcomed of all. The girl hurriedly hung the towel onto its designated place to dry before slipping into her cloak, forcing her expression to appear neutral.

"Jane? Are you alright in there?"

She had expected to hear Lorraine - the woman had appeared especially worried as Jane left Theo's room earlier. But the voice belonged to a male resident; deep, but without the rasp that could be heard in middle-aged men. Christopher. The person she would have expected the least.

Not drawing it out longer than necessary, Jane swiftly crept over to the bathroom door, turning the key and ripping it open before Chris could even think twice about what was happening. If it had opened to the outside, he would have come right face to face with it, in the most literal sense.

"Yeah. Why'd you ask?"

She met his eyes rather coldly, giving him the command to explain himself by raising her eyebrows. He stood on his spot rather awkwardly, thinking of something quick to say. But feeling intimidated by Jane's cold demeanour, he raised his hands, palms facing her in a gesture of defence.

"Don't look at me like that! Just needed to go to the bathroom and you were taking quite long."

With her eyebrows still slightly raised, Jane crossed her arms over her chest, leaning sideways against the doorway. "Isn't there a second bathroom downstairs?"

At this, Christopher squeezed his eyes shut, slightly scowling. He didn't even try to justify his lie anymore, knowing he had been caught. "Alright, alright. This was a bad argument. I just- I was worrying, alright?"

He gave up in trying to explain his way out under Jane's hard stare. Seeing his genuine expression, however, Jane let her gaze relax, letting her arms hang down lose and her posture slump. What she did not understand, was why he cared in the first place.

"Don't be. I don't know how to handle people being worried."

She made to push herself away from the doorway, walk past Christopher - but he was quick to move and step into her way. Quick enough for her to stop dead in her tracks, slightly stunned.

"Are you sure you're okay, though?", he asked yet again, this time fully raw and honest. Biting back her question at his behavior, Jane merely shrugged. "Yeah. Why wouldn't I be?"