Inferno: Remember Me

Problems

A/N: Back to the basics, because I don't think you guys really enjoyed the AI chapter-thingy. Also, I HAVE 8 READERS NOW!!! WOO-HOO! WELCOME TO THE CLUB!                                                    This chapter is... yeah. I won't really add warnings for this, even though I'm supposed to, but if you would like me to add warnings for future chapters just go ahead and PM me. But, you might be sad. If you care about Helen. And I feel like this is a bit rushed. It's some Taylor Swift shit right here. ( Listen to "Champage Problems", and then "Jump then Fall", and then "Question?" )

"Okay, so, I need you to be quiet so I can find the microphone, is that good?" James whispered, standing uncomfortably close to you. You nodded, taking a deep breath. He walked a dozen feet away from you, engulfed in the near darkness.

The wind's pace quickened, and so did your heartbeat. It was highly contradicting that the tent in which you had sought solace during so many unfavorable times now brought you a sense of dread which lingered like someone's wary eyes. Even in your own shelter, you were devoid of privacy. The thick air nested inside your lungs, each breath sending a sharp pain which thrust through your chest, an invisible knife clinging desperately onto your skin. You exhaled sharply, eternally grateful to your surroundings for concealing the slow gasps you took in order to calm down. Maybe this wasn't the only thing which was hidden tonight. Your exhalation, which was supposed to carry serenity into your mind, did nothing but strip you of the last shreds of hope dappled with unperturbed sentiments. Your heart pounded in your chest, and each beat sent a fresh pang of terror into your brain. You couldn't even trust a lifelong friend like Howard. The same Howard who was prepared to throw himself in front of a falling bridge and push you out of the way to save your life. 

No, this couldn't be Howard. Hadn't he promised you that you could trust him no matter what?

What if he had been watching you this entire time?

What if he had changed?

Or, you shuddered now, unable to conceal the tears that pricked your eyes, threatening to flow down your stone-cold cheeks which were in absentia of the rosy blush they often unveiled in a plethora of emotions.

Or you were the one, unlike your past disposition. You weren't Helen Carter, just an inutile muse. Inspiring trouble. Just an insubordinate flame about to be brushed off of the epaulettes of an extravagant man. You raked your eyes at James, who was peering inside your tent from as far as he could. His brow was furrowed in concentration and an unidentifiable expression as he kept his distance to your 'habitat' painfully clear. Why won't he go in? He's scared, isn't he? He's scared of my things. Scared of me. 

An agonizing sob racked your body as his invisible fear siphoned off into your own inlets. What was in there that stopped him from stepping forward? Was he afraid it might burst into flames? Was he really scared of you? 

You were scared, too. At this rate, you were about to kill yourself for the strain you were putting on your mind, body and soul. Trembling with insight, you squeezed your palms, smothering them in each other's company, afraid that heat would start with spreading from your body, 

You clutched your abdomen in anticipation of the loudness which reverberated out of your mouth. An ache spread like wildfire through your entire body, but the amount of pressure you put onto your stomach resulted in a concentrated suffering. Abnormally enough, this made you want to laugh. Can't even live without hurting myself. You still hadn't matured past self-effacing humor, and something broke inside of you when you realised it was the one thing Peggy warned you not to. I'm sorry. You cursed quietly when you felt a trickle rolling down the planes of your cheekbones. Your words, however, did no go unheard. Misfortune struck as the realization dawned onto James' face that you were crying. He rushed over and took you in his arms when your position trembled. Deep breaths. Deep breaths. You don't want to lose control in front of him. He might die. YOU might die. A shuddering gasp escaped your lips like a tremor, a cascade of emotions crumbling your poorly composed façade. Now the soughing winds screamed with such rage that you quivered next to James. His deep-blue eyes swept over your face frantically and his grip on you tightened. Escalating concern from him emanated awareness to you that you were going to break down again if you looked at you with such worry. He's still scared of me. You pushed him away from you with little effort, selfishly holding on to the thought your pain brought closeness. It was nice to have a friend. And that friend brushed off your miniscule stabs at freedom from his protection.