SONG OF THE SCENE: Blackmill - Love At Heart
Anna's thoughts had been once filled with colour. Warm, delicate tones seeped into every sharp curve, igniting a fire that spread across every memory drenching it with a vivid sheen. But now, now every little thing had been splattered with a hue of grey that caused an intense numbness to settle inside the back of her eyelids. And that same numbness distorts the very world she sees. It takes a moment or two for the colour to pour from the lines and cracks that form reality, it is not the brilliant texture from the time when even vibrancy didn't deter her will but instead the strokes that distinguish one from another are coarse and dull. The barricade of suppression is only pulled an inch, that the tears that threaten to stain her pillow don't fuse with the mess in her heart. Each intake of a heavy breath sears her lungs, she has no reason to cry for the pain that housed her heart constricted the passageway to the brain, so that the two minds never incorporate their desires as one.
A shaft of light bathes her face pale, her eyes squint to retain the soft comfort of darkness and to assess the shadow that lingers between the two places as if to calculate the risk to step into a stale atmosphere. Anna recognises the figure with a striking accuracy, but she doesn't pride herself on the matter and instead guilts herself as to why. The guilt is in a hot shade of violet that brands her veins with a certain thickness. Her wrists feel heavy, a throbbing want entwines with her pulse and the mattress dips to indicate that Rebecca is sat next to her. Anna lets the silence be the maestro to conduct their voiceless conversation, though her tongue is laden with certain thoughts, which once expressed would tip her world off of its axis. She wonders why Rebecca didn't turn on the light, but lets out a breath that's a mixture of regret and relief.
"Why don't you tell me what's wrong?" Rebecca's voice is soft, careful to enunciate each word as though speaking to a child; this grates alarmingly against Anna's nerves but she swallows hoping the words would disappear with it.
A few beats pass that seem taut, ready to collapse at any given moment. She asks again, "what's the matter?"
Anna doesn't consider anything with a response, instead she stares at a fixed point on the wall, her eyes forced to create patterns where there are none. She despises the very fact that Rebecca saw her at the point where her own self is conflicted by every detail that her mind processes, where she doesn't trust her voice enough to sound the void sitting at the end of her throat and where she hopes her vision be filled with colour again. Though she knows the trickery of hope, she wishes to battle it one day to succeed but she cannot even hold the shield with her fingers that tremble. Rebecca holds her wrist and she's brought out of the stupor that consumed her senses, the warmth from her palm is almost at the wrong side of painful, as it travels across Anna's arm and goes straight to her heart like a shot arrow. She's pulled towards Rebecca, almost magnetically that the connection sends her brain into overdrive and she wrenches her wrist back as if she'd been singed. But Rebecca pulls her back by her shoulder and pushes Anna on the bed. Wherever Anna has been touched, that part of her skin tingles with barbed electricity and she thinks if anyone else were to touch her on the same place, a shock might travel through their body.
Her heartbeat causes a din in their vacuumed proximity, and Anna can swear that Rebecca can listen to its discordant melody. Rebecca's hair forms a curtain that separates them both from the prying nature of the walls, her eyes flit across Anna's features to catch a hint of anything, even a trace of reluctance or disgust but is met with nothing but eyes injected with a soulless gaze. "I'm sorry, alright? I'm sorry for today. I'm sorry for every time I've been an arse. But you need to tell someone, anyone about what you're feeling. I came here to see if you're okay. You were there to witness my most weakest and vulnerable state, Anna, and you helped me, you helped me through the night. You made me feel safe. I'm here for you right now, not because I have to compensate for that night, I care and I won't leave until you tell me what the fuck is wrong."
