What was really on Constance's mind? What was running through the depths of her mind that made her shake so much that she was starting to sweat. What had gotten her so frightened of leaving her bed and showing off her smile and her hazel eyes? It was a good question to ask, no doubt, but was she going to give them an answer?
No. Of course not, that would be to easy for them. Telling them meant she had to give out something that had traumatized her. She didn't want to give out that kind of information, even if it meant she could get serious help. She'd rather keep it all to herself then tell others. That was her downfall.
And it was a messy one.
There was something wrong with her, of course, but whenever someone tired to bring up the idea of talking to someone; she would walk away or have random outburst. She'd snap at them and storm off, and later, she can be heard crying into her pillow or in the shower. Constance thought no one would hear her, but everyone did.
And this worried them.
Everyone knew that Constance losing her arm was hard on her, and the adjusting factor of it all was even harder.
Soon enough, she started to lock her doors. She knew that they would come and visit her, so she would lock her bedroom door and her bath room door. She didn't want to be near anyone. Constance wanted to be alone.
But she could never be alone.
Soon enough, she was back at Theo's place. Laying there on one of the clean beds with an IV pricked into her skin, and a nasal cannula on her face.
Her body felt like jello as she moved to get a better view of her surroundings. Clean, slightly dark, and silent. No one was around, well, she didn't see anyone in the small clinic to begin with so she assumed that no one was around. but she tensed up when she heard the soft tapping of shoes on the floor. Who was it that was just around the corner?
She shifted to get a look of who it was, hoping it wasn't who she thought it was, and was glad when she didn't see the face of the one who took her arm. She swallowed and spoke in a raspy voice.
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Marco, who had managed to drag himself back to Connieâs after a night working at Bastard, wasnât even up yet. Constance, however, was but she was stuck in the bed due to Marcoâs hold on her waist. He was refusing to budge, but she didnât mind. She loved the feeling of his arms around her.
She laid their in bed, one hand running through his hair, the other holding one of the books that she gets from her grandmother. It was an interesting book, but she was interrupted by the bed head next to her.
Marco shifted closer and entwined his legs with hers. She smiled and left a small kiss on his forehead before going back to her book.
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