cat•a•lyst | noun
- a substance that increases the the rate of a chemical reaction without undergoing any damage or change
- a person or thing that precipitates an event
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The only memories she has are of her suffering. She has tak...
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"i think too deeply about everything. i still don't know if that allows me to see more of the world or less of it."
chapter eighteen
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The first night Noa stayed in Endeavor's household, she didn't sleep. Couldn't.
Just two days before, she had been rotting inside a cell, chained to the wall without food or water. In the span of less than 48 hours, she had been beaten, escaped, hospitalized, and introduced to her new family. To safety.
In less than 48 hours, her entire life had flipped on a dime.
So when she walked hesitantly into her new room, taking in the size of it, of the bed and furniture, the bathroom, she curled up in a ball on the floor, somewhere in the corner. She stayed that way, staring at the blades of the ceiling fan as they spun around and around and around, like the one in the room they held her in... back there. Not the cell, but where she would be dragged for her experiments and various methods of masters chosing.
When Rei came in the next morning, she crouched in front of the little girl, concern in her tired eyes.
"Did you sleep, sweetheart?"
She shook her head no, keeping her eyes trained on the ground.
This woman was soft and gentle and kind, but she was hurt. She was tired and broken and Noa could sense it, somehow. She smiled slightly and scooped the girl into her arms, not noticing the terror in her eyes when her hands came toward her. Her body was warm, and there was a nice, rhythmic thudding in her chest that Noa listened to as the woman walked out of the room and down to the living area.
Shoto was sitting on the sofa, eyes trained excitedly on the big screen that flashed a million colors. He looked over as his mother sat down next to him, holding the small girl in her arms, who looked nervously at her fingers with dull, half-lidded eyes.
He and Rei chatted about whatever was happening with the screen, which Noa learned was a TV. She listened quietly, eventually letting the soft swaying of the woman's arms and shallow breathing lull her to sleep.
It was the first and only time she had ever been held, the first time she had gotten a good amount of sleep that she could remember. She was used to short, nightmare-filled bouts of unconsciousness, when the pain would get too much for her to stay awake and the exhaustion overwhelmed the fear that constantly filled her.
Now her eyes were closed peacefully, her chest rising deep and even as she tucked her limbs in close.
What she would give, to go back to that day. To re-live the very few fond memories she had of Shoto's mother. It was useless nostalgia, she knew that. She would never be held like that, comforted like that ever again. She wouldn't ever know that peace she felt in her arms.
