Shattered Vows

November 6th

keep searching for colors when everything turns gray

- Christy Ann Martine

November 6th:

It's all too much and not enough at the same time.

The bedroom is so vast in size that she feels exposed at its core, yet she finds she can't catch her breath. Enveloping her arms around herself doesn't stop the shivers from rippling down her body. Juliette's mind feels invincible to pain, but everywhere in her body aches.

Juliette can't will herself to move outside of the room she's confined in. Waiting for Fay to leave for school early in the morning, she faces her body towards the wall so she won't see her awake. She watches as the sun evolves against her wall; rising from just a point on the floor, it now floods the whole room with light.

Rosemary checked up on her early in the morning, seeing as she hadn't left with the other girls. She notes Jules feigns illness with a worried expression, placing a warm hand on her shoulder before leaving her to her room.

Throughout the day, Jules makes her way around the room, moving at the same pace the sun shifts. She sits crossed-legged on her bed, watching blankly out the window. Moving towards her desk, she stares at a blank piece of paper, pencil in hand. She paces back and forth, feeling the carpet beneath her socks, still dressed in cotton shorts and an oversized white shirt.

After hours of a void, she finds herself underneath the desk. She leans her back against the cold wall, extending her legs into a v-shape. Her hands shaking, she moves towards her inner thigh, finding the ribbon of lifted skin.

Three thin, ivory scars mark her fair brown skin. She bites her lip, not fighting sadness but trying to find feeling within herself.

The freshest scars are a year old. Jules did what her mother used to do. Staring at the ceiling, hoping she could feel whatever she had.

Fay burst through the door, dazing Jules out of her spell. She looks up from beneath the desk. Sucking in a breath of anxiety, she draws her knees into her chest. Wrapping her arms around her legs protectively.

"Jules? Jules, where are-" Fay catches sight of her beneath the table. "What are you doing under there, sweetie?" She bends down, crouching in front of her.

Fay's expression is that of unease. Her thin blonde eyebrows furrow, a crease of skin building between them. She bites on her lower lip, her eyes darting between Jules' and her state of being. She's no stranger to this position, a cause of her past, but she hasn't felt this way in years. Fear, complete and utter dread courses through her as she stares at Jules's hollowness.

"I'm ok," Jules tries a smile, placing her hand over Fay's.

"Why don't you come out?" Fay tries her best to hold a stable front. Though, uncharacteristically, her hands shake. Fay doesn't speak much of her past at all. But right now, Jules reminds her of her older sister. The sister she lived with for nine years before the state split them apart. She hasn't seen her since.

"I- I can't come out. Not right now," Jules shakes her head. She used to do this when she was younger, hiding under her bed when her mother was around. It helped to ground her as if the nearing walls were forcing enough gravity on her body that she wouldn't vanish into just a memory.

"I promise nothing is going to hurt you out here," Fay calls softly, shifting on her feet to give Jules a view of their room.

It looks the same as always, Fay's side of the room is a disaster hurricane, while Jules' side is utterly virginal. While Jules needs the order to stay grounded, Fay finds that she can only be herself within the defacement.