#shedancing

but elle was so strong at the same time? the practiced smiles gave that away. what could possibly. . . ? the jock saw no point to dwell on such questions. she was merely following behind a trail of instincts and she didn’t want to jump to conclusions and possibly fuck things up again. she simply just cared too much for others.

“hi elle. i’m doctor bloom. i’m glad you were willing to come see me,” alana says kindly, gesturing for elle to step inside. “i thought we could talk in the kitchen.” it’s not the most conventional of meetings, but what this young woman has been through is anything but conventional. even after everything that happened with abigail, alana still becomes too invested in people, in patients–– it’s hard not to when they’re young women, when they have their whole lives ahead of them, when she recognizes some of their pain as twin to her own when she was younger. the news seemed to have little information on how this many kids could have disappeared or where they had been, but from what she understands, they’d lived essentially on their own for quite a long time, more than a year. "i made some coffee, if you’d like any. or i could make tea.” offices can be impersonal, intimidating. alana likes to think her own manages to avoid that problem, but considering that elle had been estranged from the rest of the world for so long, it seemed like a gentler introduction might be appropriate. “are you hungry at all?”

@shedancing​        /        sc.

The sound of trainers scraping against coarse surface alerts the strawberry blonde to the 𝒊𝒏𝒕𝒓𝒖𝒅𝒆𝒓, eyes immediately rolling ( the whole point of coming up here had been to get away from everyone else ). Apparently this girl hasn’t got the memo though, not only interrupting the much-needed isolation but actually daring to talk to her. There’s a scoff, teary eyes narrowing in 𝒅𝒊𝒔𝒃𝒆𝒍𝒊𝒆𝒇 as head turns sharply to survey her — why does she think it’s her place to ask such a thing when Lydia doesn’t even know her name? “I’m sitting on the roof at three in the morning, what do you think?” She seethes back, “Surely that gave you a little hint that I want to be alone?”

“  it’s  like  they  want  me  to  be  perfect,”  pausing  a  moment,  gaze  focused  on  her  feet.  hands  clasp  in  front  of  her,  fingers  squeezing  against  one  another.  “but  they  don’t  even  know  that  i’m  hurting.  ”

"I just want a nice, easy life. What's wrong with that?"

❝   we've got a chance to break the cycle .   ❞

      One gracious fact emerged; something so perfect, something so satisfactory. He wasn’t naïve, after all, he wasn’t a fool. He could discern the fear burning in Elle’s eyes more often than  not.  He  could  hear  the  whispers  bombarding  the  whole  town  -spreading like wildfire-. There  was  a  difference  between  not  knowing  and  ignoring,  though;  a  great  but  currently unimportant  difference.  It  was  their  game;  she’d  pretend  to  be  fearless,  he’d  pretend to believe  her. They’d be the perfect couple -or at least, perfect in the eyes of the world-. He’d thought of her as a toy in the very beginning indeed; after the pie incident, though, she’d intrigued him, EARNED his approval. She’d made him FEEL something. Trigger an emotion that he’d never endured. He couldn’t let go of her; not before the mask of the innocent doll shattered into pieces. Broke. “ So, will you tell me where were you, then ? “ His tone remains abrupt, intense ; his voice gets louder and his patience is already gone.