Animal

.:24:.

Silo's words made me think for a long moment. I had expected him to tell me something out of anger and disgust, not directed at me, but at the entire situation. Instead his eyes were sad and his words full of truth to the point that they shocked me to the core, making me bite down on my lower lip. I chewed the skin softly between my teeth, sucking in a soft breath.

"I—" I started, but cut myself short. My eyes shifted to the pictures that were propped up on top of the fireplace, looking at the images of the people that Silo was ripped apart from harshly. The entire thing broke my heart, not for myself, but for Silo. It wasn't fair to him, or anybody else for that matter, that he was forced from these people and put into a new life of solitude. "Silo, why would they do this forcefully? It's not fair," I whispered, starting to feel my voice crack. "You ..."

Silo stood up and came around the coffee table, crouching down in front of me. He placed his hands on each side of the chair, both resting on the arms. His sad eyes stared up at mine and it pushed me overboard. Tears began to fall out of my eyes, sliding down my cheeks and dropping into my lap from my chin. My eyes closed, breaking the contact with the sad man crouched in front of me and causing more tears to usher out.

"Shh. That's right." I heard some shuffling, and the next thing I know, a pair of arms wrap around my shoulders. My head was gently pressed against his chest, and I whimpered out a few protests. I didn't want to look like this in front of anybody, him especially, and I also did not want to get his shirt wet. He just put it on, and now I was soaking it with my stupid tears. Motherfucker.

Wait. When had he gone to put on a shirt? My eyebrows furrowed with thoughtfulness as the tears continued their waterfall down my cheeks. He must have put it on before making tea or something. Wait. Why am I thinking about this when I'm in the middle of sobbing my eyes out. Seriously, what the hell McKenzie?

"It's okay." His voice sent warmth through my body, strangely enough, as his large hand gently rubbed circles in the middle of my back. "Crying is good," he was telling me. As he spoke, I could hear and feel the vibrations through his chest, often covering up the rhythm his heartbeat made for brief moments.

It's not fair! I kept screaming inside, imagining myself slamming my fists into his chests from all the pent up anger that I held onto tightly. It's not fucking fair! Why did they do this to us? We didn't do anything to deserve it! We had lives!

My fingers curled into his shirt, gripping it. I was afraid if I let go I would never feel safe again.

Silo's hand stopped stroking my back and instead moved to run his hand down my dark hair, tangling his fingers in the shortened curls and raking gently through them before starting over at the top of my head again.

"I want t-to go home," I admitted to him between my heavy breaths, which, by the way, sounded like a dying cow. Then, of course, some hiccups decided to join the noises, making me a complete mess. "I want everything to g-go back t-to normal."

"I know," he breathed softly, his breath fanning over the top of my head. His hand froze in place, halfway through my hair. "I know," he repeated in a soft voice, closing his eyes and pressing the top of his nose to my hairline.

-:-

When I was able to stop the crying fifteen minutes later, Silo pulled back and sat on the edge of the coffee table only inches from where I sat on the table.

My cheeks and eyes felt swollen, and the bottom of my eyelids burned from remaining tears that I had forced myself to hold back. My nose was clogged up, stuffy and hard to breath out from.