[ she doesn't look up, but she can see him moving in the periphery of her vision, feel him moving through the room. her chest feels impossibly tight. she might be sick. she's never felt so overwhelmed with shame and misery, except maybe -- no, this is so much worse...
she sits down hard on her cot, feeling like the weight of the room might crush her, like that might somehow lessen the tension. it doesn't. the silence in the room is agonizing, beyond awkward, and sonia breathes into her pillow so that if she cries again, it won't shatter the silence. she can't tell if it's protecting her or just hurting her. she hugs her pillow tight, curling in on herself as though that might protect her from this hurt, as though she could protect herself from the inside out.
she wants comfort. she's never wanted it so badly. thinking too hard about that night in the village, it would break her, but she remembers it, remembers that warmth and security, and she wants so badly to reach out to byerly, but she feels sick with shame and she doesn't know if that would somehow make it worse. she loses track of the time -- minutes, hours go by, she's not sure -- but when she finally speaks, it comes out as a quiet creak, hesitant and faltering and small. ]
no subject
she sits down hard on her cot, feeling like the weight of the room might crush her, like that might somehow lessen the tension. it doesn't. the silence in the room is agonizing, beyond awkward, and sonia breathes into her pillow so that if she cries again, it won't shatter the silence. she can't tell if it's protecting her or just hurting her. she hugs her pillow tight, curling in on herself as though that might protect her from this hurt, as though she could protect herself from the inside out.
she wants comfort. she's never wanted it so badly. thinking too hard about that night in the village, it would break her, but she remembers it, remembers that warmth and security, and she wants so badly to reach out to byerly, but she feels sick with shame and she doesn't know if that would somehow make it worse. she loses track of the time -- minutes, hours go by, she's not sure -- but when she finally speaks, it comes out as a quiet creak, hesitant and faltering and small. ]
Byerly?