METHOD OF BEDLAM ━ 𝐓𝐡𝐨𝐦𝐚𝐬 𝐒𝐡𝐞𝐥𝐛𝐲 ²

𝐢𝐯. 𝐭𝐰𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐲-𝐟𝐢𝐯𝐞 ; descend to dirt

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iv. twenty-five: ❝ descend to dirt ❞

𝐏𝐥𝐚𝐲𝐢𝐧𝐠: ramblings of a lunatic - bears in trees

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Somewhere in London

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In Marianna's room at Ada's house in London, a heavy silence hung in the air. Thomas had been trying to find the right words for the past two days, watching Marianna distance herself from him and the world. The weight of their shared history and the recent revelation about their lost child cast a palpable pall over the room.

Marianna, sitting on the edge of the bed, was lost in her own thoughts. Her eyes, usually filled with vibrant energy, now carried a weariness that echoed the pain of the past. Thomas, seated across from her, hesitated before breaking the silence.

"Mar," he began, his voice a careful mix of sincerity and regret, "we can't keep avoiding this. You can't keep avoiding this. We need to talk about what happened."

Marianna looked up, meeting Thomas' gaze, her eyes reflecting a mixture of sadness and frustration. "Thomas, we can't change the past. What's done is done."

"I know," Thomas sighed, running a hand through his hair. "But keeping it, all bottled up inside won't help either. We need to face it together."

There was a moment of tense silence before Marianna spoke, her voice tinged with bitterness. "Why now, Thomas? After all these years, why bring it up now?"

Thomas leaned forward, his eyes searching hers. "Esme told me, Mar. She couldn't keep it to herself any longer."

Marianna looked away, unable to hold his gaze. The room felt suffocating, with the weight of their shared pain and the unspoken words pressing down on them.

"I should have told you," She finally admitted, her voice barely above a whisper. "But it's a wound I didn't want to reopen."

In the quiet confines of her room, Marianna's mind raced through the labyrinth of her emotions. The recent events have turned their relationship into an intricate tapestry of sentiments, a pastiche that seemed both complicated and bewildering. Each event felt like a cosmic joke, a cruel jest played by the universe. Marianna grappled with the absurdity of it all, questioning the unseen forces that seemed to orchestrate their lives.

"Is this some kind of cosmic lark?" She wondered aloud, the words escaping her lips as if seeking validation. "It's like we're caught in a adversity we never signed up for."

The complexity of emotions—confusion, frustration, and a lingering hope—mingled within her, creating a tempest that mirrored the storm outside.