#offeredlamb

[thruteeth]

the sofa is uncomfortable. the backs of her legs stick to the unnatural material, leaving her to fidget while she waits. catch a stray edge of lifted.. leather ? plastic ? the feel is off, rubbed between thumb and forefinger before tugging. until what was small is large. proof she had been here. proof while she counts the span to one minute, then two, and loses track someplace before five. grace is gone, off to clear a path or find something she'd forgotten, and the room is silent without her.

or it had been, for a stretch.

an open door, near silent footsteps, she'd have missed them if she hadn't grown used to needed perception. an adjustment that lifted her head, turned it so, and tracked the approach with caution, " ..grace ? "

before the voice came, she'd known it wasn't her. felt the surge of panic seize a grip at the curve of the cushions and inch emily nearer a retreat that wouldn't last long or go far. this room is a mystery, size and shape a confusing labyrinth she has no context to base off of. if she'd been there before, she didn't remember.. cold wood and a cold couch and the air stinking with some old, ingrained sickness. but she'd run if she had to. stumble until the path ended. feel her way across the floor on hands and knees and—

" @v0id0ut ? " quiet, but hopeful, what had verged on panic capsizes quick for an alternative. one big, deep breath of a feeling. shuddered relief, emily abandons the now gaping cleft she'd forged beside her for the sake of raised arms, hands outstretched and fingers in a hesitant splay. " neil ? " a second wasn't necessary, she'd heard him and shed her concern in a scoot forward, " i think something bad happened to the doctors. " and the patients. and that lady with the sweet voice who'd once told her she was adorable with offered sweets and a stroke to her cheek. by the sound of it, no one was spared past that door that should've been blocked. maybe he'd seen grace on his way in ?

" have you seen them ? " were they close ? were they mad ?

[thruteeth]

it's cold out here. there's something wet on the ground, displaced by a hesitant step that settles in the center of it with hollow curiosity. grace is asking her a question but the world feels large and hungry where she's placed. somewhere new to pat her hands. across a table she finds a paper, loose but torn at the edge. there's old rings in the wood, a short-clipped nail traces it twice before she answers, " no. " comes out soft. quiet. it's a secret shared with the walls and the warmth of a touch smoothed down her arm. leading to a seat she doesn't immediately take.

" where are we going ? " someplace she hasn't been before. where tile will give way to carpet, she hopes. where the echoes of a far off wail can't reach them. another in a long line and gooseflesh is on the rise. it stipples across her chest and the narrow of her spine. until emily is shuddering and an over-sensitive ear works itself down against her shoulder. grinds out what isn't meant to be there. one big scoop and she's back in the room. she's edging the backs of her knees against the sofa and, before sitting, pauses long enough to chew her lip with absent wonder. " i'm not supposed to leave this wing. "

the late night adventures of little girls, their fingers laced and their giggles poorly muffled behind one another's hands.. she can remember them, though they'd begun to fog in their margins, blotted out like so much else. tiptoeing where they oughtn't, it'd been harmless adventure. and then it was over. it was done and the details are too murky to make out while focused elsewhere. here with @riphalos and her tender leverage, depriving those noises of the fear they'd have otherwise earned.

just the tips at first, she's made contact with jeans. doesn't enjoy the distance they've grown while new shuffling proves her restless, sat alone. " grace ? " a doctor had told her, once, with the smell of antiseptic heavy and the unnatural feel of latex roaming alongside a stethoscope from right to left to right again, that she shouldn't talk to the orderlies. she shouldn't speak unless spoken to, at all. but her belly, empty as it may be, had turned and a frown, for all its worth between the racket, slumps heavy. " can we stay here for a minute ? "