They were talking about your body. Gansey found it.
You're standing now in the door to your stark, unlived-in room and they're turning, staring. Gansey. Adam. Ronan.
Ronan looks tense as he says, "Your room was empty. I just looked in it," and you say, wearily, "I told you. I told everyone."
You did. You said it so many times. But they never really listened. They glossed over it like you were kidding around. Or forgot, maybe. Like they forgot all the other little details that they should have questioned before now. Thoughts that slid from their minds before they were ever aware of them. Until they found your body.
"I told you," you say. You want them to understand. You want them to hear you, for once.
Gansey is acting like this is a thing he can solve and Ronan is deflecting, covering his hurt, and Adam is thinking dead thing. They're asking questions: "How did you die?" and "Who killed you?" and it's too much. You can't. You can't talk about this. You're turning away, hunching inward, making yourself less.
You feel less of yourself now that your bones aren't on the line. Unmoored. You can't hold together. Chainsaw screeches and that pulls you back enough to mumble an excuse before-
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memory glitch dream following swear-in
They were talking about your body. Gansey found it.
You're standing now in the door to your stark, unlived-in room and they're turning, staring. Gansey. Adam. Ronan.
Ronan looks tense as he says, "Your room was empty. I just looked in it," and you say, wearily, "I told you. I told everyone."
You did. You said it so many times. But they never really listened. They glossed over it like you were kidding around. Or forgot, maybe. Like they forgot all the other little details that they should have questioned before now. Thoughts that slid from their minds before they were ever aware of them. Until they found your body.
"He's dead," Gansey says. "You're really dead, aren't you?"
"I told you," you say. You want them to understand. You want them to hear you, for once.
Gansey is acting like this is a thing he can solve and Ronan is deflecting, covering his hurt, and Adam is thinking dead thing. They're asking questions: "How did you die?" and "Who killed you?" and it's too much. You can't. You can't talk about this. You're turning away, hunching inward, making yourself less.
You feel less of yourself now that your bones aren't on the line. Unmoored. You can't hold together. Chainsaw screeches and that pulls you back enough to mumble an excuse before-
-you're gone.