staring right at her through the glass. Finally, the doors slid open, and she told her that lie she made up while waiting for Laurel to fall asleep, the one about her friend with a cut on her arm, and the meds she needed. She was hoping she didn't blush too much, but she felt her cheeks burning, so of course she did. The mute knew she lied. She hoped she'd still help her.
She was staring at her very pretty handwriting, "What's your friend's name?" on a med pad in front of her face. No, she couldn't do that again. The lying. It just felt all kinds of wrong to keep blushing like a fool in front of this stranger, so she didn't. She didn't tell her anyone's name, but she couldn't stop looking at this girl. She couldn't get past the resemblance in everything. Even the way she moved had a bit of Riley in it, slow and graceful, but straight backed, as if the band on her hands wasn't there.
She wondered if this mute had a name she could take to Riley with her, if she still remembered her name. So she asked, and the mute seemed sad after that. Ella. She needed to call her by her name now, even in her own head. Ella, the mute, who handed her the kit in a hurry, seemed anxious for her to leave. Something about the asking for her name made her sad, hurt her. She didn't mean to, but she never really meant to hurt anybody, and yet it just happened.
She kept not wanting to hurt the boy, but somehow she did, first with the stupid maid band, and then the water. She would need to figure it all out somehow, with the boy, so she'd stop hurting him. But the meds, those would help take some of the pain away. She grabbed the kit, and the pad with the girl's name on it. She didn't mean to take it, but there it was, tucked neatly in the back pocket of her jeans.
Ella was looking at her with so much desperation, the door open for her to run, pointing at it with her head and then the key. She felt like she owed her something for helping her, and for the lie, something to make her less sad, so she ran up to her and told her his name, Riley's name, and ran out through the doors, the strange dread over what she'd just done making her feel cold and miserable.
But she couldn't fix this now. She would have to tell Riley, would have to find a way to do it. He needed to know what she'd done. And maybe he'd try to run then, only he wasn't anywhere near healed enough to run. She made it to the loft, groped in the dark for the two containers, and walked to the den. The boy was just how she'd left him, asleep.
She washed his jeans and socks in the spare bathroom on the floor below that nobody ever went to earlier, and scrubbed his shoes as clean as she could make them, and all of that should have dried by now on the heat vent by the wall. She found the warm heap of clothes by touch, and brought them over to the bed. She needed some light if she was going to be able to put HealX on his scars. The candle would have to do. She heard the boy stir when she lit the match, "Please don't. Don't light that." His voice sounded strained, fragile. As if she'd somehow hurt him again.
"So jumping over the wall and breaking ribs and the bruises okay. Whatever happened to you when you got those slashes and stitching them up - also okay. Warm water and a candle not okay. Am I missing something?" She knew she sounded a little angry, could hear it in her voice, but she couldn't help it. She couldn't help feeling like an idiot, not knowing what she should and shouldn't do or say, and he wasn't telling her anything. How was one supposed to help somebody who refused to help you help them at all, who made you feel all kinds of wrong for it every time you tried? So maybe she was angry at him. Maybe he'll finally start talking to her, but he just lay there, not moving, watching her, and she couldn't light the candle.
There was a small light by the far wall she noticed earlier, not enough light to be spotted through the window, so she flicked that on, and walked away from the den so
She was staring at her very pretty handwriting, "What's your friend's name?" on a med pad in front of her face. No, she couldn't do that again. The lying. It just felt all kinds of wrong to keep blushing like a fool in front of this stranger, so she didn't. She didn't tell her anyone's name, but she couldn't stop looking at this girl. She couldn't get past the resemblance in everything. Even the way she moved had a bit of Riley in it, slow and graceful, but straight backed, as if the band on her hands wasn't there.
She wondered if this mute had a name she could take to Riley with her, if she still remembered her name. So she asked, and the mute seemed sad after that. Ella. She needed to call her by her name now, even in her own head. Ella, the mute, who handed her the kit in a hurry, seemed anxious for her to leave. Something about the asking for her name made her sad, hurt her. She didn't mean to, but she never really meant to hurt anybody, and yet it just happened.
She kept not wanting to hurt the boy, but somehow she did, first with the stupid maid band, and then the water. She would need to figure it all out somehow, with the boy, so she'd stop hurting him. But the meds, those would help take some of the pain away. She grabbed the kit, and the pad with the girl's name on it. She didn't mean to take it, but there it was, tucked neatly in the back pocket of her jeans.
Ella was looking at her with so much desperation, the door open for her to run, pointing at it with her head and then the key. She felt like she owed her something for helping her, and for the lie, something to make her less sad, so she ran up to her and told her his name, Riley's name, and ran out through the doors, the strange dread over what she'd just done making her feel cold and miserable.
But she couldn't fix this now. She would have to tell Riley, would have to find a way to do it. He needed to know what she'd done. And maybe he'd try to run then, only he wasn't anywhere near healed enough to run. She made it to the loft, groped in the dark for the two containers, and walked to the den. The boy was just how she'd left him, asleep.
She washed his jeans and socks in the spare bathroom on the floor below that nobody ever went to earlier, and scrubbed his shoes as clean as she could make them, and all of that should have dried by now on the heat vent by the wall. She found the warm heap of clothes by touch, and brought them over to the bed. She needed some light if she was going to be able to put HealX on his scars. The candle would have to do. She heard the boy stir when she lit the match, "Please don't. Don't light that." His voice sounded strained, fragile. As if she'd somehow hurt him again.
"So jumping over the wall and breaking ribs and the bruises okay. Whatever happened to you when you got those slashes and stitching them up - also okay. Warm water and a candle not okay. Am I missing something?" She knew she sounded a little angry, could hear it in her voice, but she couldn't help it. She couldn't help feeling like an idiot, not knowing what she should and shouldn't do or say, and he wasn't telling her anything. How was one supposed to help somebody who refused to help you help them at all, who made you feel all kinds of wrong for it every time you tried? So maybe she was angry at him. Maybe he'll finally start talking to her, but he just lay there, not moving, watching her, and she couldn't light the candle.
There was a small light by the far wall she noticed earlier, not enough light to be spotted through the window, so she flicked that on, and walked away from the den so
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