From the very start, their autonomy was violently stripped bare. They were taken and held down and beaten to submission-enslaved and collared and owned. Years upon years drag, time wasted in the confinement of normalized abuse. They solemnly accepte...
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Eclipse had long since passed out in your arms. It had taken deliberately rocking back and forth, your hands petting down their shoulders and drawing circles over their gown, to get them to take a nap. It was like the time when Moon refused to sleep, and right now was no different. The nightmares they have experienced in real life would surely manifest themselves in their dream world.
And you couldn't really help much regarding that fact. You would have offered some chamomile tea to soothe them, but currently, that wasn't a possibility. You didn't want a chance to off-balance the diet the hospital staff had crafted, so no food-related comforts.
That left games and shows. You planned to have them watch something specific on your phone, like those brain-rotting videos they watched sometimes, but Eclipse had beat you to it, falling asleep with little effort.
They were exhausted from the simplicity of having to stay awake, of the psychological stress that eating had become, too. Just holding themselves upward has them swaying, leaning their weight fully on you.
You had kept talking to them, about a book you'd read years ago that you wanted to show them. Deliberately, you rock to an unheard song, slowing down to rest every few minutes. Slowly, you lower the bed so they are properly lying down against you instead of propped up, easing any pressure from their muscles.
They flinch and jolt multiple times throughout the process, brows furrowed and sweat slowly building over their face and body in a way you'd associate with a fever. Their temperature is slightly higher than it should be, but they refuse to shed away the blankets over them. You wipe it away with a tissue, kissing their head once as you do.
The TV is background noise by now, something to keep the room from being completely silent. Like a melody that lulls them to sleep more easily, chasing the static away.
You are with them as you were when they had the surgery to amputate their leg. They are snug against your side, face down with their cheek on your shoulder partway and over the pillow, your arm not at risk of growing numb under prolonged pressure.
And as they find your presence comforting and preferable when asleep, you also find their body close to yours something that has you calmed. The feeling of them being warm and not freezing, the sound of their smaller heart bumping naturally faster than yours, the hand that gripped you tightly...
A part of you feels ashamed at failing your promises, but another part understands it wasn't completely your fault. You shouldn't wallow in your regrets—focus on the present and act better than before.
That's a promise you intend to keep.
-x-
It is around six in the evening when a nurse comes in once more, somewhere around five to six hours after their first meal.
