#resistinstinct

        she observes the woman from afar at first, just taking in pure, unadulterated bedelia in her element. if she thinks too hard about it, she’ll chide herself for her SENTIMENTALITY, so instead, she lifts herself off the wall she’s lingering at and crosses, placing her hands on bedelia’s hips and bending to press a kiss to her neck. ❝ good morning, chérie. you seem...SPIRITED today. ❞

          he had  greeted  her  like  an old  friend .   time  stitched  them  closer  together  than  he  had   wanted   to      (  trust  rarely  gained   within  someone   like   her     ——    analysing   eyes  pierced  through  his   every  chest.     sounding   scary  with  a  genuine  bit  of   sympathy,  perhaps ).        an   ally,    a   partner   worked   together   with.   reliable,   trustworthy.    every   word  of  hers   weighted  on  a  silver  tablet,     gold  pattern  had  stitched  above  hers .      a  remarkable   skill  and   perhaps   ——  very  perhaps   ——     willing   to  help  him  now.  

          fresh  breeze  of   her   perfume   opening  the  door     ———     his  introduction  had  been  planned  /   scripted.       a  professional  at  work.     for  a   few  moments  he  had  considered  to  say  something  else.   i  only  came  by  and  wanted  to  see how  you  are  doing.     light  chuckle  could  suit  his  cheeks  now,  but   tone-deaf  moment   /  eyes  lingered  on  her hair,  her  neck,       the  decorated  room  behind  her.         never  wishing  to  give  any   nervousness  away.       '  i  don't  have  an  appointment,  but  i '  d  like  to  talk .   if  you  are not  opposed  to  that,  of  course.  '         fleeting  gaze  travelled  to  her  face  itself,  then  away.   she  could   sense  his  emotions  too   well      ———    like  everyone  else.  in  a  way  he  had  hoped  it   to  be  more  difficult,   but  last  night's   nightmares   and  previous   nights   deprived   of  sleep  caught  him  with  a   tight   chest.   heart  couldn't   beat   quite  right   &  lungs   didn't  widen  enough .

          he  refused  the  wine   offer   ——    loosening   to   the  emotions  captured  behind  his  mask  did  not  gain  him  any  self  control  when  deciding  for  such a  drink.        he  needed  her  now.       and  the  last  bit  of   a  mask  to   feel  safe.    fingers  clasped,   caesar    leaned  forward    /   elbows  sunk  into  his   suit  trousers.       there  was   silence  for   a   while,   unable  to  breathe  out  any  words.   eyelids  fluttering,   raising  his  head  and  clearing  his  throat.  he  looked  right  at  her.      '  i  trust  you,   that's  why  i  thought  to  come  here.  '

“ -- They say that what doesn’t kill you, makes you weird at parties. Would you agree?” He might have had a little too much wine. “I mean, when does one stop being functional?”

The library welcomes Abigail with open arms every Thursday. She’s not sure what she’s looking for. An escape? Education? Perhaps she could accomplish both at once. The playful clicks of the soles of her shoes against the polished wooden flooring follow her from shelf to shelf. Index finger hovering over colorful text and books wrapped snugly in crinkly plastic. Stephen King’s Christine. The illustration on the cover seizes her attention and makes her laugh. Funny what normal people can find scary. She decides to take it back to the hospital anyway. A certain sentence featured in the inside flap caught her eye. As did the beautiful blonde curls belonging to the woman browsing next to her. 

       ❝ look, I’M NOT CRAZY, okay ? and no offense, but i don’t have the greatest experiences with...YOUR KIND of people. ❞

    ‘     we have a warrant, doctor     ...     ‘     you smile politely, but you both know it is anything but. you hold up both your badge and the court order in the same hand, badge pressed against your palm by your thumb and ring finger, the papers held between your index and middle.     ‘     --     you can either cooperate, or i’ll arrest you for obstruction.     ‘