the deer on the highway

“I’m sure,” he promised. “Let’s get you checked out, and then I’ll escort you to the parking deck.”

Placing his hand beneath her elbow, he gently encouraged her to rise off the examination table, and then he walked her out front so that Jerry could go over her discharge papers.

Although Maeve still appeared wide-eyed and uncertain, Carter found that the more helpless she looked, the more he wished to aid her. It bothered him, thinking that somewhere out there, some man was potentially plotting to batter her all over again. If there was one thing he didn’t tolerate, it was senseless abuse.

With his free hand tightening into a fist, Carter splayed his other against the small of her back, and then after gathering a few things from the break room, he led her out into the parking deck. “I’ll follow you,” he reminded her, indicating his own car. “I have a good feeling about this, okay? I won’t let anything happen to you.”

so why did none of it feel sorted? none of it felt like a new start or like hope. it just felt like more of the same.

cuts were clean, fixed up, would soon enough heal over like nothing at all had ever happened. she should be grateful they were just skin deep and not much worse... but it was another thing that just felt heavy and messy.

there were so few of her things at bobby's maybe it wasn't worth it at all. she'd always travelled light, there were only a sentimental thing or two, things he'd doubtlessly keep just to see if she'd ever crack and agree to meet to get them back. but they were all things she could live without: it was hardly the first time something of value had just... been left behind.

it'd be so easy to change her mind. to scurry off, to deal with this. but his touch was grounding, it forced her to be logical, forced her to give into the flow of things rather than the natural urge to overthink and overplan. 

꧁ you can burn the dress and run away ꧂

important psa. one of my rules for myself this year (which... I've often not done) was to chase people less. I fall into holes where I'm the one putting in 200% of the effort and the other person gives me like... 1% at best. I know everyone is different, and I'd never ask people to fake it.

however! if I'm consistently not replied to (or only get emojis, one word, ooc replies that add nothing to plotting) I will stop trying. I'm not talking about one bad day. I'm talking about if I scroll and I can't find a single instance of the other person even slightly trying to add or help.

I'm very autistic, and constantly putting myself in situations where I emotionally burn out? not good. I regularly (usually start of every month) remove discord people who fall into these categories. people are always welcome to add me back if they do decide they'd like to plot with me ofc, and I almost never remove people on tumblr!

but. yeah. we all deserve to feel wanted. to be met half way. it's hard for people pleasers but sometimes it's best to just take people at their silence and realise that means they're just humouring your presence.

they left her behind. he's never going to forgive himself for that. and if she never forgives him either -

well, rip'll deserve that. he'll live with it even if it'll hurt more than he'll ever say.

he watches as she walks around him, to her room - still her room, always her room - and then glances up at the ceiling. he doesn't need to, but habits are hard to break. "keep an eye on her, gideon. she might actually speak to you over anyone else."

but there's time. time to think, to work out what the next step is. 

is it time? to accept the fate waiting for her when she's dropped off? to head back to the half-finished chapter she'd been living?

it's hours until she emerges, relying on a half-thought-out prayer that everyone still has the schedules they used to. it should be late enough to stretch her legs, to eat, without needing to force her way through being verbal. even before everything - maeve has always found comfort in the quieter hours.