miraixhopes:
“Yeah. Cooped up.” If it was up to them, she’d still be in that house, either that or in an early grave. Those days were gone though, as much as memories lingered, and she had her freedom, what more could she ask for?
Other than undisturbed sleep and for her mind not to relate everything back to her suffering.
Part of her still wanted revenge purely for all the nights of sleep she had lost, but she knew that road didn’t end with her parents and being consumed by hate wasn’t something she was sure she’d ever come back from.
She blinked. His efforts to elaborate on the statement were far to familiar a tatic to miss. At least she wasn’t the only one who rambled when she said something she didn’t mean to.
“Right,” she’d be lying if she claimed not to be curious, but she doubted either one of them wanted a session of twenty questions. “Personally, I’ve seen more bad middles then ends.” She glanced away as she said it, even if it wasn’t meantto call him out, it sure as hell felt like it was the second she said it.
She really needed to learn when to shut up.
“Really?”
He blinked for a moment, his thought process trying to figure out if she were still talking about various forms of mediums, or if she was simply trying to hint at something a bit more personal. He would ultimately decide that it might have been a mix of both, and figured that it’d be best if the conversation was kept casual. At least that way he wouldn’t risk assuming too much and making things awkward for them both.
“I guess that’s to be expected, I think it’s naturally part of story telling for the middle to be full of strife and conflict, you’d be hard pressed to find ones that didn’t.”
He would give a small yawn, perhaps lack of sleep truly was getting to him, which could be considered a good thing for him. He could use some rest after all spending far too long awake.
“But, I believe a bad middle doesn’t mean a bad end’s to come. If everything goes just right, there’s a happy ending to be achieved, and everything would have been worth it.”
There was a light, soft laugh that followed.
“Sorry, I think I may have been a bit dramatic in saying that. It wasn’t my intention.”
Harper's jaw clenched, considering her next words even as they slipped from her mouth, "There's supposed to be moments, though, isn't there? Where it's not so bad?"
Well, crap. There wasn't any excusing that as book talk, was there?
"Sorry, I didn' mean- I just can' keep my mouth shut when I'm tired, ignore that." She forced a smiles, even though all she wanted to do was run off and leave this conversation where it was. So much for dancing around personal conversation. At this rate, she might as well tell him that she was awake because her dreams were haunted by the images of knives and guns being forced into her hands, and, of course, her step-father.
"About that book shop," she grasped at straws to avoid any questioning her response might have sparked, "where'd ya say it was?"
She wasn't sure what she'd say if he asked for clarification. Her loose lips might just spill her whole troubled backstory, and God knew no one wanted that.
She needed to start taking sleeping pills. Maybe that would stop the dreams and, in turn, stop disasters like this conversation.
