#teeth stuff tw

the haunting of hill house / book quotes starters | accepting | @gcdsaved    

      Beyond the van’s window, a thrush picked its way through the treeline. Fox could almost hear it out there, whistling some working tune between John’s words. Silenced by the pane of glass between them. She didn’t need to turn her head to guess at what expression he wore, nor did she want to. Her stomach tightened at the thought of what she would see. The words were already there, lingering between the gaps of her teeth. Nestling back into the familiar dips of molars and softening the edges of canines. No amount of “and how does that make you feel”‘s would ever get them to an answer that would JUSTIFY all of this. But those weren’t the words that rolled about on her tongue and pressed their feathered wings against her lips. She clenched her jaw, willing herself to crush those tiny, hollow bones and swallow them back. All the while keeping track of the thrush outside, fluttering this way and that. 

      I’m sorry for what happened to you. Her mouth already tasted like blood. 

      Clouds shifted to cover the sun and her distraction was gone. Disappearing into the shadows of trees no longer dappled with golden light. All those stained-glass leaves now dull and lifeless. It made the silence after his words heavier. These were the parts she hated. When he spoke so freely she had to wonder if he TRUSTED her. They weren’t like the words he spoke when the other’s were inside with them, clicking their seatbelts into place because she asked them to. No, these words were different. They came from him like drops of water sliding down the stalactites of a cave and she, as much as she loathed herself for it, stood beneath. Mouth open, desperate for a steady stream that would quell her unquenchable need to UNDERSTAND. As if in mocking answer, the sky above opened and bathed them with a morning shower. At least it filled the silence. 

      Fox’s gaze shifted to her own hands resting in her lap, palms up and open. Empty. The droplets on the windows created strange shadows against her skin. Gently, she moved the tips of her fingers, watching as the shapes shifted about as if it were the pages of a book that she couldn’t quite read. A Fool’s Guide to Conversation. Shards of what was left before still prodded at her tongue. The other’s would be back soon, she didn’t need to say anything at all to fill the space between. Yet, she did, because this time there was nothing left to swallow and she was already parched.