it is not a sickness

❛ No you, were right. It was all right. ❜

She seems to accept those words just as easily as Zero had spat them out – she manages a smile, feels her chest tighten despite his apology. He was right. He only didn’t want her to think that way, because maybe he didn’t want her to be so sad. But she knew it to be true. She couldn’t speak to much of anyone on her own, and when she did, they were often confused or put off by her frequent pauses and strange words.

Abra rubs at her eyes and gives a little shrug, feeling Zero’s anxiety and peering towards him. Worry in her eyes, she doesn’t want for him to exhaust himself – she doesn’t want him to stress or feel such guilt. He was right, after all.

❛ I’m .. not smart I’m, not really. Ever going to be able to. Be out with myself. Um. I think – okay, I’m. I’m done talking. ❜

Andrew notes the way Zero seems to lose his voice, his ability to speak or move or even think. His features go completely blank, a slate that anyone could project their own emotions on. It’s interesting, to say the least, but also very disturbing; it’s hard to tell whether it’s a coping mechanism or an intimidation tactic. The blond boy seems to shift uncomfortably under the gaze, so the doctor turns his eyes back to Abra.

❛ Thank you for being honest with us, Abra. I know sometimes things like that can be hard to say, especially when you feel on the spot. You were very articulate. ❜

He offers her a gentle smile of encouragement and notes another flicker within the dark childe, something akin to jealousy. That’s quickly written down.

❛ What do you have to say about this, Zero? ❜

❛ I didn’t mean to — … I — I don’t have anything to say, I mean. ❜

❛ You sound like you do. Both of your feelings and thoughts should be heard. It’s not healthy to be overwhelming, but it’s not healthy to hold back, either. ❜

She stares at her lap. Abra only lifts her gaze when she hears that question – what does she think? What does that matter? She swallows the building lump in her throat, shifting and giving a small shrug of her shoulders. It was easier to be spoken for – in the end, she does think Zero was right. Dumb. No one could understood a word she said – no one knew what she was saying half the time.

Abra wets her mouth and looks down at her hands. She tries to find words that don’t feel stupid or ridiculous. It’s a difficult task.

❛ I think that maybe, he was right. About a lot of things about me. I wish he would eat. ❜

❛ Those feelings are valid. Would you mind telling me what you think he’s right about? ❜

Zero looks curious, too — curious and disturbed. He knows that she can’t mean any of the good things, because nothing particularly good has happened lately. He doesn’t want to assume she means the verbal abuse, but he doesn’t know what else it would be. His stomach lurches and he feels nauseous, but focuses on breathing instead.

Andrew glances toward him for a second.

❛ Would you like some water? ❜

❛ No, I’m okay. ❜

He talks for the both of them.

Abra doesn’t understand how he can say it so easily. She doesn’t know if she feels his guilt or shame – she feels nothing, carefully blank and reserved, lest she throw another tantrum. Staring blankly at her lap. He could easily admit to using his words to hurting her? Then why had he never apologized? Abra swallows hard, feels her heart throb in her bird cage chest.

Now Dr. Basque is speaking to her – and she’s looking up, furrowing her brow towards the man before she quickly looks back down. Sick all of the time. That’s her fault – it must mean something more, because the words are caught in her throat and she doesn’t want to admit to hurting him.

❛ I got a fever and it, burned him. I dunno. I hurt him. Now he doesn’t eat and he is different. I’m sorry. ❜

❛ I wasn’t eating before that. I don’t care that she burned me. I don’t mind. I had to carry her. I don’t care if it gets me burned to hold her. She’s my wife. ❜

Andrew pauses for a moment, taking all this information in. The key information is written down, and he pays close attention to the posture of the two of them. Their behaviors, their speech patterns. The two of them couldn’t be more different if they tried, polar opposites in almost every way, even in the subtle and small things.

❛ Okay, you two — talk one at a time for me, alright? Abra, you first. All of this seems to have been quite the ordeal for the both of you. What do you think about all of it? ❜

❛ Almost fucked him. ❜

It’s a small correction. She doesn’t think Zero was ever really sorry for what he did – not really. Abra bites into her bottom lip and immediately looks down at her lap, almost embarrassed by what she had said. Brushing a long lock of hair behind her ear, golden eyes soon lift to look towards the other, and she swallows dryly.

❛ I left and I – went with Uncle Micah. And Zero got upset with that. ❜

Abra swallows hard. She recalls that phone conversation easily, biting into her bottom lip hard and hesitantly looking up at Dr. Basque.

❛ .. He told me to come, home. And that I wouldn’t. I mean. I don’t know. ❜

❛ She left and then I called and verbally abused and manipulated her until she was broken down enough to come home. Then it gets hazy for me. I don’t know. I didn’t feel like myself and was angry all the time and then I attacked her when she was in bed. Broke her nose and attacked her neck. It was bad. She’s been healing nice, though, better than… I feel sick all the time, though. ❜

Zero gets right to the point, stating what he remembers as quickly and briefly as he can in a scratchy monotone. He won’t meet anyone’s eyes.

Andrew reads a bit of regret in his voice, but he’s very guarded, making it hard to tell which emotions are genuine, forced, or there at all. He would assume the regret and shame he’s been seeing is genuine, but everything else makes it hard to tell.

❛ … And after that, Abra? ❜

Abra’s brow furrows slightly, tiny hands grasping at her full skirt before her gaze lifts to look up towards Zero. She quickly looks back down, clearly unsure if she should continue from there–where had it started? Where had the trouble began? If she wanted to be realistic, she knows that they’ve had trouble for a long time now.

But things were starting to be good. They were happy.

They were happy until Priscilla had told Abra. They were happy until Priscilla told Abra about Zero’s actions behind her back–the force he had used to make another miserable. And she had fled. Abra swallows the lump in her throat, shrugging.

❛ Someone .. told me – that Zero had done something bad with. A man he didn’t like. ❜

❛ Was there any truth to that? ❜

There’s barely a moment of silence before Zero speaks, his voice quiet and curt. Answering the question and getting it out of the way so they can move on and talk about something else, anything else.

❛ Yes. Fucked with him. ❜

Andrew is quiet for a moment, trying to read the childe’s face. There appears to be shame, but there also appears to be no shame — a strange contradiction. He notes this and writes it down, before turning his attention to Abra.

❛ And what happened after this person told you? ❜

She stares towards Zero, faintly shocked at his reaction. Abra doesn’t understand his unwillingness to attend – if he didn’t want to, then why was he here? Why did he bother? There’s a surge of resentment in her, simply because a chagrined fear has Abra wondering if she deserved him acting like this. He hurt her violently – but she had returned the favor, draining him dry, leaving him unable to eat.

Was it her fault? She stares towards Zero for a few long moments. His hand is released, and Abra begins wringing her own slender hands, appearing smaller and anxious. A proper mirror.

❛ I hurt him on accident. ❜

Andrew is silent for a few moments, always keeping his cool, watching the way the two interact. There’s still obvious signs of abuse, especially in the way Abra acts in response to her husband’s gruff words. She releases his hand, putting the only amount of distance between them that she can, and wrings her own hands. Nervous. Unhappy. When she speaks, her words are the final telltale sign.

❛ She didn’t hurt me, ❜ Zero corrects quietly, this time seeming more amiable and apologetic. He touches his fingertips to his forehead for a moment. ❛ I hurt her and now — I don’t know. ❜

❛ Let’s step back a little bit. What happened? Just the events — ❜

❛ No it’s just old to you and new to me, then. That’s how it is. ❜

Abra does her best to retain a cheerful disposition despite the fact that Zero is anything but. He won’t eat. He sleeps restlessly. He worries her, strains her, all the while the nightmare that flickered behind her eyelids consumed her when she tried to fall into sleep. His teeth tearing into her – his voice, angry and impatient, berating her and putting her down.

She holds his hand tightly, ever his faithful bunny.

❛ Uhuh. Yes. ❜

❛ Why don’t you tell me about these things that have been happening? ❜

Andrew knows to be friendly and gentle with Abra, who — though she’s doing much better than before — isn’t as coherent and adult as she used to be. When he asks, he asks with a calm and kind voice, and he leaves all his questions open to discussion or rejection with even more care than he would with a more common sort of patient.

Her husband appears visibly bothered by the question, his sickly and sullen face seeming to grow slightly darker. For a few moments, he seems to be resisting speaking, but — as one would expect with him — he does end up mumbling out, ❛ I think you already know. ❜

❛ Three whiles. Hello Doctor Basque. ❜

She had been looking forward to the company – in relatively good health since the Brother had prayed over her, Abra was dressed and primped by William. Ironically enough, a picture of decay is seated beside her – Abra grips his hand as tightly as her little strength can manage.

❛ Is that a new, shirt? ❜

❛ Almost. It’s a shirt I’d forgotten about. New and old. ❜

He smiles at her, taking note of the way she seems to have her fair share of light in the eyes. She looks healthy and relatively happy, which is very good — she’s come a long way. Strangely enough, it’s almost like the roles have been reversed between she and her husband; she looks healthy and happy and he looks as though he’s wasting away, his eyes downcast and empty, his face bloodless. He won’t speak, either.

❛ I hear things have been very eventful lately with the two of you. ❜

❛ Hello, you two. It’s been a while. ❜

For one, too long; for the other, not long enough. He will try to set his bias aside and focus solely on his work, though: the patients come first and foremost, and his opinion on them is irrelevant.