==> It doesn’t take long to realize how empty the hive is, and not even your Lucifer can soften your nails digging into your palms as you try to bring attention elsewhere. Outside your pan, somewhere they won’t reach in shadowed claw to drag you down deeper into the pit of remorse. Haven’t you already paid your dues to it? Mourned when was necessary in your brevity and moved along? They don’t seem to think so when switching the tape and showing you moirail after moirail after kismesis after lusus after moirail after matesprit after friend after danestor after moirail after soul exit the shore and turn their backs on the disappointment you became. Whatever it was that drove them away couldn’t possibly bring them back, but it helps you sleep it off. It helps you forget and recall in fondness rather than pain, but you should be calling her instead.
==> She always said she’d come running, so why don’t you? Because the way you feel now prohibits you from accessing the husktop, from typing her name anywhere. It tells you that you need to be better first. You need to stabilize and carry yourself properly or else there’s nothing worth coming hive to. You’re not enough on your own; you need so much more going for you if you’re ever going to prove yourself to your Lord and quadrants. But you can’t do it when you’re shaking sorrow, and you can’t do it when you find it difficult to breathe without the tenseness making you ill and the memories obstructing your reality. He walks through, but it’s Mit, not Tuna, and the bubble shifts in size.
==> Whatever’s happened, you know it’s your doing. They leave and they leave again and again, and what’s always been there for you? Objects. Reliefs. The plants in your conservatory, the needle in your drawer. If you promise yourself just this once until you can calm yourself down enough to think more clearly, then you can steady the jittering of your hand enough to yank the door open and see its familiar tumblr. Replace the needle, get everything else ready. You’re almost too eager as if having to create excuses why this is the favorable outcome, but you know the taste of blood is present in your mouth and you’re not on your way to feeling any better without it. Meulin doesn’t need to see you like this. She doesn’t need to wonder what’s happened or go on another search. You doubt she’d stand by your side if she saw you anyway. Better for her to be at the cave until you get yourself in line.
==> Rather than using the more accessible vein in your arm, you use your leg. It’s more difficult, less direct, and you don’t know if it’s made it better than the tiny mark it would leave on your arm. Too late. You can’t rewind and change your mind on it, so you accept the mistake and finally work through to press down on your syringe. The shot is familiar and warm, wrapping its arms around your scarred chest and calling you down to the bed where you turn over on your side and lazily push everything back into your drawer to close it. Eyes rest, muscles relax, and you can’t feel the pain or regret or abandonment anymore. Even Mituna’s shadow fades away with the receding of shadowed limbs.
==> Just this once, just this once. You won’t do it again.
