scribbles ; Nightmares
It is another night of dreams she doesn't want.
She is as quiet as possible as she retches in the toilet, body shaking with force and terror and fear of hands that can't reach her from the other side of a grave. They have violated her, though, and it is a touch that is burned into her skin. Around her throat, in her mouth, on every inch of her body.
It was the face of a person she trusted that hovered above her as they destroyed her. And in her dreams, she still remembered his voice, at her ear as she tried to struggle against the force of his grip on her, when he hit her as she tried to push him away. "Would I do anything to ruin you?"
Sometimes she would close the door carefully, locking it, leaving the light off and crawling into the shower to let the water burn her skin and the filthy feeling of her body. It couldn't penetrate that outer layer, though, and so she turns it off, soaking wet and cold in the dark, pressed against the tile wall with her head tilted back and breath choked as she tries to force something out.
If she could cry, she would. She can't make anything move beyond the burn of disgust in her chest, however. A good little doll at first... without biting.
Her destruction is confusing, terrifying. Rhode doesn't know what to do to end it, only that it is sucking her downward. He is still pulling her down, his dead fingers digging into her skin and making her throat tighten with silent screams. Good girl. Will you behave?
When she has dried her hair and changed her pajamas, she makes her bed. Fluffs her pillows, sets them up as if she hadn't slept there at all, and straightens the tucked-in blankets just the right way. She almost climbs back in, but the despair is growing in her chest, because it never works. Fixing the bed will not make it disappear.
It was sleeping beneath her dresser. A doll covered in blood, with her face, smiling and relishing the attentions of her destroyer.
She steps over the floor of the hall carefully, remembering where the boards are that will make the slightest noise, and comes to stand before Kristoph's door. There is no intention to go inside, to disturb him; it would only be that much worse if he knew, if he could see her like this. He would be ashamed of the mess she had let herself turn into.
"It hurts- I don't want-"
Lowering herself to her knees, she rested her hands against the wood of the door- rested her forehead on the smooth door. It was as close as she would allow herself to this lifeline. On the other side, he was sleeping, she knew. He was perfection, cold and calculating; she was chaos. She would destroy herself with her own imperfections. She could not let him see her like this.
Rhode closed her eyes. She drew some invisible strength from the barrier, inhaling the scent of his pressed existence and silently praying to her only God. I'm sorry. I am so sorry, for...
"Do as I say and you'll be perfectly safe."
Save me, please.
She creeps back to bed, to lie on top of her freshly made covers and ignore the chill in favor of a restless hour's sleep. When she hears Kris stirring in the morning, she is awake. She is smiling.
She lies about how she slept, and avoids his gaze when she asks what he'll be doing today.
She is as quiet as possible as she retches in the toilet, body shaking with force and terror and fear of hands that can't reach her from the other side of a grave. They have violated her, though, and it is a touch that is burned into her skin. Around her throat, in her mouth, on every inch of her body.
It was the face of a person she trusted that hovered above her as they destroyed her. And in her dreams, she still remembered his voice, at her ear as she tried to struggle against the force of his grip on her, when he hit her as she tried to push him away. "Would I do anything to ruin you?"
Sometimes she would close the door carefully, locking it, leaving the light off and crawling into the shower to let the water burn her skin and the filthy feeling of her body. It couldn't penetrate that outer layer, though, and so she turns it off, soaking wet and cold in the dark, pressed against the tile wall with her head tilted back and breath choked as she tries to force something out.
If she could cry, she would. She can't make anything move beyond the burn of disgust in her chest, however. A good little doll at first... without biting.
Her destruction is confusing, terrifying. Rhode doesn't know what to do to end it, only that it is sucking her downward. He is still pulling her down, his dead fingers digging into her skin and making her throat tighten with silent screams. Good girl. Will you behave?
When she has dried her hair and changed her pajamas, she makes her bed. Fluffs her pillows, sets them up as if she hadn't slept there at all, and straightens the tucked-in blankets just the right way. She almost climbs back in, but the despair is growing in her chest, because it never works. Fixing the bed will not make it disappear.
It was sleeping beneath her dresser. A doll covered in blood, with her face, smiling and relishing the attentions of her destroyer.
She steps over the floor of the hall carefully, remembering where the boards are that will make the slightest noise, and comes to stand before Kristoph's door. There is no intention to go inside, to disturb him; it would only be that much worse if he knew, if he could see her like this. He would be ashamed of the mess she had let herself turn into.
"It hurts- I don't want-"
Lowering herself to her knees, she rested her hands against the wood of the door- rested her forehead on the smooth door. It was as close as she would allow herself to this lifeline. On the other side, he was sleeping, she knew. He was perfection, cold and calculating; she was chaos. She would destroy herself with her own imperfections. She could not let him see her like this.
Rhode closed her eyes. She drew some invisible strength from the barrier, inhaling the scent of his pressed existence and silently praying to her only God. I'm sorry. I am so sorry, for...
"Do as I say and you'll be perfectly safe."
Save me, please.
She creeps back to bed, to lie on top of her freshly made covers and ignore the chill in favor of a restless hour's sleep. When she hears Kris stirring in the morning, she is awake. She is smiling.
She lies about how she slept, and avoids his gaze when she asks what he'll be doing today.