[Stardew Valley] On the Edge - Shane

15

"Hello?"

Aria was thankful Marnie picked up on the first ring. She could barely fall asleep with the memory of Shane's anguished stare piercing through her mind. All night Aria tossed and turned between the sheets, sighing and trying to focus on the rain drumming on the roof to lull her to sleep. Her attempts were in vain: as soon as the heavy feeling of sleep began to consume her the image of Shane's somber stare haunted her awake. The ache of worry just hurt too much to sleep.

"Hi Marnie. It's Aria...Is Shane at the ranch?" Her fingers fiddled with the coiled cord, her breath not daring to relax until she knew if he was okay.

"Oh, good morning Aria! It's nice to hear your voice," Marnie greeted in her usual optimistic voice, but it dipped in pitch and cheer quickly. "Yes, Shane's here... He came in late last night, he hasn't come out of his room yet. He's not okay."

The weight of the rancher's words drew her held in breath even further until she felt lightheaded. "I know it's early, but is it okay if I come now?"

"Of course, Aria. Out of anyone, he'd talk to you first. Stop by whenever you can, I'll leave the door unlocked.

That was the fastest Aria had ever tended to her farm - with the aid of the rain watering her plants, all of her animals were taken care of in under half an hour. In a fleeting moment of pride, she mentally patted herself on the back - she was getting the hang of this whole farming thing. Solemnity quickly sunk back in as she walked to the ranch in the rain.

Marnie stood in the kitchen when Aria arrived, shuffling over from the oven to give her a hug, the smell of whatever goodness she was stirring in that giant metal pot wafting off of her. Aria smiled a little in comfort, but Marnie could see the concern written all over her face. She almost flinched when Marnie laid a comforting hand on her shoulder.

"It's not my story to tell, but Shane's childhood was tumultuous. And even now that things are better than they have been in the past, he's still trying to learn that he is worthy of being loved. That isn't something that was instilled in him growing up."

All Aria could do was nod slightly, remembering the marred circular divots in the flesh on Shane's wrists. They looked long healed, but she couldn't help but to wonder if there was more unfortunate evidence of his childhood.

"Go ahead, Aria. I think he really needs you right now."

So she stepped past the kitchen and into the darkened hallway, stopping at the first door on the right. Suddenly she felt frozen in her place, her outstretched fingers suspended in animation above the door handle.

I think he really needs you right now.

A low sigh left Aria, the rubber sole of her sneaker digging into the molding on the floor.

She really needs you right now.

Her own mother's voice echoed through her head and suddenly she was back in that lonely hospital room with her mangled brother, unrecognizable in countless rolls worth of gauze. The only thing worse than the nurse's hand pressed into her thigh in comfort like she knew her her whole life, was the empty condolences she fed her. "He's not in pain anymore. He's in a better place." Aria could pinpoint the source of her manufactured concern in her impatient voice, and in the way she kept checking her watch and glancing towards the door. She knew better than anybody else the frustration of empty words being tossed around in an attempt to help. She didn't want to make Shane feel that way, but she was worried she wouldn't know what to say.

Aria sucks in her breath slowly, twisting the handle and letting herself in. The first thing she's greeted with is the odd smell combination of soured beer and flowery air freshener permeating the small room. The air is thick and stagnant. The only evidence working against the fact that it looked like the room hadn't seen sunlight in a while is a few stripes of gray daylight sneaking through a few broken slats. Shane was so still that he'd become a fixture at the edge of his bed, tired red eyes not peeling from the television perched on the top of the dresser.