All lights off in the bedroom. Shutters down tightly as Raya could put them. If anything could illuminate the room, a pure and simple mess would be revealed. Something untouched for the worse. From the piles of wrinkled clothing to the uneaten sandwich on its plate next to her bed. Her stomach growled, but she paid it no mind. She paid nothing any mind. She just lied in her bed, face down, clinging to a pillow stained with countless dried-out tears.
Raya curled up further on that bed and thought of very little. The more she thought, the more it hurt. A horrid, horrid wilting, a grinding and agonizing emptiness that had forced some kind of light which had filled her and comforted her. It had replaced that light. She took small, shuddering breaths, clinging to the pillow tighter still. It was cold. The kind of cold that felt like it could never warm again. She needed someone. It couldn't just be... anyone. Jack, Ethan, Dad, had been trying to reach her with no avail She yearned for someone to come and wrap her in their arms and tell her it would be okay. But that someone was gone.
She would not come back.
What do you do knowing that? She would not come back. Never get to see her smile or hear her stories or anything ever again. She would not come back. Never get to grow with her and learn from her again. She would not come back. Never get to... never...
It's not fair. It's not fair.
Tears began to well in her eyes once more. The most crippling feeling she'd ever known.
The Painful Part
I just want this crippling feeling gone - 2016
-
LYourLocalAutist
- Posts: 268
- Joined: Sun May 19, 2024 2:50 pm
- Location: IN YOUR HEAAAAD IN YOUR HEAAAAAAAAD ZOMBIE, ZOMBIE, ZOMBIE-E-E
The Painful Part
The V9 Children themselves:
The Machininst - Raya Loux The Petite - Sylvie Rattray-Aubert The Forlorn The Tough Guy - Manuel "Mañana" Hernández And here's outdated info about them plus where (not all of) their relationships are: viewtopic.php?t=9024
The Machininst - Raya Loux The Petite - Sylvie Rattray-Aubert The Forlorn The Tough Guy - Manuel "Mañana" Hernández And here's outdated info about them plus where (not all of) their relationships are: viewtopic.php?t=9024
The door was quiet when it was opened. It was loud when it was slammed shut.
"Sorry." Flat affect.
She always closed doors that way. She was apologizing to a room that had nothing in it except indistinguishable shadows, for a long moment in time, until she blinked and blinked and then she could make out all the familiar shapes that belonged to her best friend.
None of them were where they were supposed to be, and everything smelled like it had sat still for too long. Dry dust and drier tears. The eyes that had cried them had started to squeeze the blood from the stone.
[Clarissa May Shoemaker, Memory 1]
Clarissa had been really confused when Auntie Sophia had died and when Mom and Dad had told her that. Adults weren't supposed to die until they were really really old, or at least that's what Princess— Clarissa's name at home, which was annoying because she already had a bunch of names like Clarissa and Rissa and Cs— had been told by her parents when she'd asked, that they would be there until Clarissa was really old and had a bunch of kids and a house in Meadowbrook. Auntie Sophia had died even though she was still young the way adults were where they were still really old dinosaurs but not so old they had existed since the Big Bang which Clarissa had learned about in school. Clarissa had the proof Auntie Sophia was dead, because she had been there at the funeral and she had seen into the coffin that they put people in when they died and Auntie Sophia's face had been very calm and peaceful. She had looked like one of the dolls on Clarissa's shelves, with shiny skin and hair clear of her face and closed eyes.
It didn't make sense that it had happened, but it had.
Clarissa had asked a lot more questions, and she had cried a lot, and Mom and Dad had cried a lot too. It wasn't fair, Clarissa had said a lot, because doctors were supposed to be able to fix people like her parents could fix cars. But there was no wrench or plier or bar or gauge that could fix Auntie Sophia. Otherwise Clarissa would have done it herself.
It didn't make sense, and it wasn't fair.
Clarissa hadn't seen Raya since the funeral, and it made her sad because Raya had been out of school a few days and that made sense, only, the classroom had seemed very wrong without Raya in it. The chair next to her had been empty and there was too much space and not enough warmth without a Raya in that chair. Sylvie and a bunch of other kids and the teacher had all told her they were sad about Auntie Sophia passing away, which didn't make sense because none of them even knew her. Clarissa hadn't spoken much. She was pretty sure everything she'd said since Mom and Dad had said that Auntie Sophia was dead had been about trying to figure out why and when and how.
And none of the answers had made sense, and Clarissa hated it when things didn't make sense. Every question was supposed to have a good answer.
She wasn't sure what she was supposed to say. She'd come to Raya because she'd wanted to be there, because Clarissa thought things might feel a little better if they could see each other's faces. But it was so quiet and no one was saying anything and the room was itchy and sounded like a lot of bees even though there was nothing making noise but an air conditioner that was way too cold.
'I miss her too' didn't make sense. 'I'm so sorry' didn't make sense. 'I love you' didn't make sense. None of those words would make anything correct and the way it was supposed to be again.
Clarissa stomped over to the Raya shaped stale smell pile on top of her bed, which was actually Raya herself, in enough of a disorganized shape of limbs and hair everywhere that she sort of looked like her own used blankets.
Clarissa noticed the uneaten sandwich, which she grabbed and put further away because it smelled sour and that made her want to retch until she puked air or even actual puke, like most food that didn't smell like Prego alfredo sauce or Kraft cheese singles or Oreos did.
Clarissa knelt by Raya, their faces level. Her own face was blank because it usually was, but she was crying all of a sudden and it was itchy and it bothered her but she didn't know how to stop it. The tears jaggedly zig-zagged down the roundness of her cheeks like car window rain. She could acutely feel every path every individual tear made being pointlessly noted into her short term memory.
It was distracting, but for once Clarissa could focus.
Raya looked like a doll, but one that had sat for too long without having its hair brushed. Glassy green eyes, little freckles. It was a terrifying sight and Clarissa kind of wanted to run away.
She stayed and on instinct reached in with her hands. No words still because she was not good at those and none of them felt right to say. Clarissa's fingers gently started to untangle the spaghetti rope of hair piled on top of Raya's face, slithering everywhere like snakes. Like a doll she put each little hair in its right place. It made Clarissa feel a little less empty and scared, but she was still crying.
So was Raya. Her friend's fresh tears found a blanket to cuddle on top of, as Clarissa dabbed them onto her warmer flesh and they became part of her fingerprint.
Clarissa's watery eyes bubbled over a bit more. It felt like her heart was going to knife its way through her own ribs.
"Sorry." Flat affect.
She always closed doors that way. She was apologizing to a room that had nothing in it except indistinguishable shadows, for a long moment in time, until she blinked and blinked and then she could make out all the familiar shapes that belonged to her best friend.
None of them were where they were supposed to be, and everything smelled like it had sat still for too long. Dry dust and drier tears. The eyes that had cried them had started to squeeze the blood from the stone.
[Clarissa May Shoemaker, Memory 1]
Clarissa had been really confused when Auntie Sophia had died and when Mom and Dad had told her that. Adults weren't supposed to die until they were really really old, or at least that's what Princess— Clarissa's name at home, which was annoying because she already had a bunch of names like Clarissa and Rissa and Cs— had been told by her parents when she'd asked, that they would be there until Clarissa was really old and had a bunch of kids and a house in Meadowbrook. Auntie Sophia had died even though she was still young the way adults were where they were still really old dinosaurs but not so old they had existed since the Big Bang which Clarissa had learned about in school. Clarissa had the proof Auntie Sophia was dead, because she had been there at the funeral and she had seen into the coffin that they put people in when they died and Auntie Sophia's face had been very calm and peaceful. She had looked like one of the dolls on Clarissa's shelves, with shiny skin and hair clear of her face and closed eyes.
It didn't make sense that it had happened, but it had.
Clarissa had asked a lot more questions, and she had cried a lot, and Mom and Dad had cried a lot too. It wasn't fair, Clarissa had said a lot, because doctors were supposed to be able to fix people like her parents could fix cars. But there was no wrench or plier or bar or gauge that could fix Auntie Sophia. Otherwise Clarissa would have done it herself.
It didn't make sense, and it wasn't fair.
Clarissa hadn't seen Raya since the funeral, and it made her sad because Raya had been out of school a few days and that made sense, only, the classroom had seemed very wrong without Raya in it. The chair next to her had been empty and there was too much space and not enough warmth without a Raya in that chair. Sylvie and a bunch of other kids and the teacher had all told her they were sad about Auntie Sophia passing away, which didn't make sense because none of them even knew her. Clarissa hadn't spoken much. She was pretty sure everything she'd said since Mom and Dad had said that Auntie Sophia was dead had been about trying to figure out why and when and how.
And none of the answers had made sense, and Clarissa hated it when things didn't make sense. Every question was supposed to have a good answer.
She wasn't sure what she was supposed to say. She'd come to Raya because she'd wanted to be there, because Clarissa thought things might feel a little better if they could see each other's faces. But it was so quiet and no one was saying anything and the room was itchy and sounded like a lot of bees even though there was nothing making noise but an air conditioner that was way too cold.
'I miss her too' didn't make sense. 'I'm so sorry' didn't make sense. 'I love you' didn't make sense. None of those words would make anything correct and the way it was supposed to be again.
Clarissa stomped over to the Raya shaped stale smell pile on top of her bed, which was actually Raya herself, in enough of a disorganized shape of limbs and hair everywhere that she sort of looked like her own used blankets.
Clarissa noticed the uneaten sandwich, which she grabbed and put further away because it smelled sour and that made her want to retch until she puked air or even actual puke, like most food that didn't smell like Prego alfredo sauce or Kraft cheese singles or Oreos did.
Clarissa knelt by Raya, their faces level. Her own face was blank because it usually was, but she was crying all of a sudden and it was itchy and it bothered her but she didn't know how to stop it. The tears jaggedly zig-zagged down the roundness of her cheeks like car window rain. She could acutely feel every path every individual tear made being pointlessly noted into her short term memory.
It was distracting, but for once Clarissa could focus.
Raya looked like a doll, but one that had sat for too long without having its hair brushed. Glassy green eyes, little freckles. It was a terrifying sight and Clarissa kind of wanted to run away.
She stayed and on instinct reached in with her hands. No words still because she was not good at those and none of them felt right to say. Clarissa's fingers gently started to untangle the spaghetti rope of hair piled on top of Raya's face, slithering everywhere like snakes. Like a doll she put each little hair in its right place. It made Clarissa feel a little less empty and scared, but she was still crying.
So was Raya. Her friend's fresh tears found a blanket to cuddle on top of, as Clarissa dabbed them onto her warmer flesh and they became part of her fingerprint.
Clarissa's watery eyes bubbled over a bit more. It felt like her heart was going to knife its way through her own ribs.
-
LYourLocalAutist
- Posts: 268
- Joined: Sun May 19, 2024 2:50 pm
- Location: IN YOUR HEAAAAD IN YOUR HEAAAAAAAAD ZOMBIE, ZOMBIE, ZOMBIE-E-E
Raya didn't move to turn and look at whoever had just come in. She knew it wasn't her mother. That was enough. It was probably dad or Jack or Ethan and she didn't want to see any of them right now because it wasn't fair it wasn't fair and it wouldn't bring mom back. She immediately spoke out loud, with a voice that sounded like it'd been choking some agonizing poison down for the past few hours. Wrenched and broken. But it was loud.
"Go 'WAY."
Some attempt at antagonism was made, but it wasn't nearly genuine enough. The yell came out more like that of a wounded animal than anything else. Desire for solitude with too little to back it up beside messes and messes of emotion. Shivers in the body and the voice. It seemed to stop when she registered the voice of the person who'd entered. One which carried a familiarity on par with her family members. Clarissa was here.
Raya stayed quiet as a mouse as the realisation set in. She still wanted to be alone, but... it was Clarissa. Yelling at dad or her brothers to get out was so much easier. They just lived here. But Clarissa had to go out of her way and ask her dad to drive her and get Raya's dad to let her in and then just. All that, just for her. Just for how she felt. Raya felt enormously selfish. It was like a horrible loop which she wanted to keep perpetuating and deep down she didn't even know why.
So, as Clarissa approached her mess of a self, Raya kept quiet, save for her sniffles and occasional sobs. She couldn't hold it all in when she was actively trying to. Everything in the past few days had been the worst ever because of it. Any given moment she just wanted to scream or sink or disappear. She moved slightly as she felt how close Clarissa was, right next to her. Just enough to peek out with one eye, immeasurably worn and crippled.
Clarissa was crying too. Just made Raya feel even worse as she hazily focused. She hated seeing that even back when things were normal, but it was her fault this time. Dad was always trying to tell her it wasn't her fault but he was wrong and everyone was wrong and she was horrible and didn't deserve Clarissa or anyone and
...And yet Clarissa was still here. Caressing her. Even through her own tears she wordlessly tried to comfort Raya. God. It felt... strange. Less and more painful at the same time. Her lip trembled and she broke down again, leaning into Clarissa's touch and mumbling through sobs.
"It's not fair. It's not fair."
Some kind of plea to something that didn't exist, some last argument as if it would convince some power to bring mom back. Pain and desperation.
"Go 'WAY."
Some attempt at antagonism was made, but it wasn't nearly genuine enough. The yell came out more like that of a wounded animal than anything else. Desire for solitude with too little to back it up beside messes and messes of emotion. Shivers in the body and the voice. It seemed to stop when she registered the voice of the person who'd entered. One which carried a familiarity on par with her family members. Clarissa was here.
Raya stayed quiet as a mouse as the realisation set in. She still wanted to be alone, but... it was Clarissa. Yelling at dad or her brothers to get out was so much easier. They just lived here. But Clarissa had to go out of her way and ask her dad to drive her and get Raya's dad to let her in and then just. All that, just for her. Just for how she felt. Raya felt enormously selfish. It was like a horrible loop which she wanted to keep perpetuating and deep down she didn't even know why.
So, as Clarissa approached her mess of a self, Raya kept quiet, save for her sniffles and occasional sobs. She couldn't hold it all in when she was actively trying to. Everything in the past few days had been the worst ever because of it. Any given moment she just wanted to scream or sink or disappear. She moved slightly as she felt how close Clarissa was, right next to her. Just enough to peek out with one eye, immeasurably worn and crippled.
Clarissa was crying too. Just made Raya feel even worse as she hazily focused. She hated seeing that even back when things were normal, but it was her fault this time. Dad was always trying to tell her it wasn't her fault but he was wrong and everyone was wrong and she was horrible and didn't deserve Clarissa or anyone and
...And yet Clarissa was still here. Caressing her. Even through her own tears she wordlessly tried to comfort Raya. God. It felt... strange. Less and more painful at the same time. Her lip trembled and she broke down again, leaning into Clarissa's touch and mumbling through sobs.
"It's not fair. It's not fair."
Some kind of plea to something that didn't exist, some last argument as if it would convince some power to bring mom back. Pain and desperation.
The V9 Children themselves:
The Machininst - Raya Loux The Petite - Sylvie Rattray-Aubert The Forlorn The Tough Guy - Manuel "Mañana" Hernández And here's outdated info about them plus where (not all of) their relationships are: viewtopic.php?t=9024
The Machininst - Raya Loux The Petite - Sylvie Rattray-Aubert The Forlorn The Tough Guy - Manuel "Mañana" Hernández And here's outdated info about them plus where (not all of) their relationships are: viewtopic.php?t=9024
Hair was a very complicated and messy jumble of shapes. Messy curls tangling into patches of briar thorn. Clarissa's fingers worked meticulously. It was the same dexterity she was mindful of when cleaning her dolls, or her cars. Or someday even, opening one of the black and red rolling tool boxes Mom and Dad kept in the shop, hands knowing exactly what tool to grab for the job and how to make it look like it was an extension of her own body.
She had hoped Auntie Sophie would have been there on that day, smiling along with Uncle Jacob, and Mom, and Dad. Raya there too, standing shoulder to shoulder with her, their hands by then big and grown-up enough to make the wrenches and the pans and the ratched sockets look natural and right.
It wasn't fair. Clarissa continued to cry silently.
Raya always was the first to be by her side in the classroom when Clarissa started crying or fidgeting and staring blankly at the teacher or at her assignment or whoever was telling her she was weird and telling her to leave them alone in class. Before Sylvie, or before Basil, or anyone else, it was Raya. Raya was so strong, and she still was now. Clarissa understood that important fact, even if she didn't quite understand why. Raya was strong. Clarissa was not. It was a natural way of the world.
Clarissa shouldn't have come. She was probably making everything worse. The fresh sobs from Raya wracking her body with tiny tremors were like gunshots, loud, each causing Clarissa to wince. There was tension in every muscle that tightened and tied and tied into thicker stiffer knots with each little noise of hurt Raya made. Clarissa's arms getting heavier, weights on shoulder and elbow and wrist and each section of each finger.
Clarissa kept untangling Raya's hair. Clearing the sticky mess of her face.
"It's not fair," Clarissa mimed, her monotone so dull it wouldn't have made its way through a thin sheet of paper.
What else could she say? She had to try. Even though her throat was as made of stone as the rest of her body. The only cure was running away. But she couldn't do that, not when it was Raya. She had to be strong too. Somehow.
"Everything is- c-ghh-chan-nngh-changing." Hard to talk through the sobs. What Clarissa was saying was selfish. Probably. She didn't know for sure. Words were words and they came from the teeth and the tongue and the lungs and the heart and they sometimes made her feel gross to say, the same way all food that she hated was gross and didn't belong near her. "I- hate... I hate it. I want-nngh- I wan-... want her back. I want Auntie to be there." She calmed a bit. The image she summoned somehow salved her a bit. No parents there, just her and Raya.
"When we're old and doing cars. You and me."
She had hoped Auntie Sophie would have been there on that day, smiling along with Uncle Jacob, and Mom, and Dad. Raya there too, standing shoulder to shoulder with her, their hands by then big and grown-up enough to make the wrenches and the pans and the ratched sockets look natural and right.
It wasn't fair. Clarissa continued to cry silently.
Raya always was the first to be by her side in the classroom when Clarissa started crying or fidgeting and staring blankly at the teacher or at her assignment or whoever was telling her she was weird and telling her to leave them alone in class. Before Sylvie, or before Basil, or anyone else, it was Raya. Raya was so strong, and she still was now. Clarissa understood that important fact, even if she didn't quite understand why. Raya was strong. Clarissa was not. It was a natural way of the world.
Clarissa shouldn't have come. She was probably making everything worse. The fresh sobs from Raya wracking her body with tiny tremors were like gunshots, loud, each causing Clarissa to wince. There was tension in every muscle that tightened and tied and tied into thicker stiffer knots with each little noise of hurt Raya made. Clarissa's arms getting heavier, weights on shoulder and elbow and wrist and each section of each finger.
Clarissa kept untangling Raya's hair. Clearing the sticky mess of her face.
"It's not fair," Clarissa mimed, her monotone so dull it wouldn't have made its way through a thin sheet of paper.
What else could she say? She had to try. Even though her throat was as made of stone as the rest of her body. The only cure was running away. But she couldn't do that, not when it was Raya. She had to be strong too. Somehow.
"Everything is- c-ghh-chan-nngh-changing." Hard to talk through the sobs. What Clarissa was saying was selfish. Probably. She didn't know for sure. Words were words and they came from the teeth and the tongue and the lungs and the heart and they sometimes made her feel gross to say, the same way all food that she hated was gross and didn't belong near her. "I- hate... I hate it. I want-nngh- I wan-... want her back. I want Auntie to be there." She calmed a bit. The image she summoned somehow salved her a bit. No parents there, just her and Raya.
"When we're old and doing cars. You and me."
-
LYourLocalAutist
- Posts: 268
- Joined: Sun May 19, 2024 2:50 pm
- Location: IN YOUR HEAAAAD IN YOUR HEAAAAAAAAD ZOMBIE, ZOMBIE, ZOMBIE-E-E
Raya continued clutching her pillow and leaning into Clarissa, and as she did so, she thought of very little. She was trying to, of course. It just wasn't really working. Her brain was a mess of teary fire and thoughts that couldn't even begin to form before some fledgling of a next one tried to take root. She wished that Clarissa's presence could help, but if anything she was stoking those flames. Raya was always meant to protect her. That's just... how it was. How it had been. Now she was making her cry on top of everything else. Why had Clarissa come here? All Raya had done lately was ruin things.
She'd ruined mom's funeral by crying too much and ruined being around her family by yelling and now she was ruining her best friend and she hated hated hated EVERYTHING.
...Not everything. Not Clarissa.
Raya's breathing and sobbing slowed down, ever slightly. Even she could get tired of it. If she cried any more she'd be drawing blood. Sniffles remained, as did hiccups, and she still felt unbearably sick and tired inside, but it was less noise. It was a bit of grounding, what Clarissa was doing with her hair. Tugging against her scalp as knots came undone was a repetitive feeling of relief through pressure. It helped that it was Clarissa, too. A little. She got enough mental fortitude back to be able to process Clarissa's words through her sobs.
"...I hate it too."
She mumbled, her voice weak, cracked and wavering as she nestled back into her pillow.
"M-mom wasn't supposed to go for a long time. She wuh... nnh... she was s'pposed to be here when I got my own car. She promised she'd tell me h'w to drive."
She remembered the exact moment. Exact feeling of mom's touch against her cheek and how utterly comforting that voice was to her ears.
"Peopl're supposed t' get better when they get sick..."
But mom couldn't because Raya's family did not make enough money. Dad hadn't told her that to her face but she could hear what the grown-ups talked about in small voices. The world wasn't fair. It shouldn't work like that. Because it worked like that mom was gone.
She'd ruined mom's funeral by crying too much and ruined being around her family by yelling and now she was ruining her best friend and she hated hated hated EVERYTHING.
...Not everything. Not Clarissa.
Raya's breathing and sobbing slowed down, ever slightly. Even she could get tired of it. If she cried any more she'd be drawing blood. Sniffles remained, as did hiccups, and she still felt unbearably sick and tired inside, but it was less noise. It was a bit of grounding, what Clarissa was doing with her hair. Tugging against her scalp as knots came undone was a repetitive feeling of relief through pressure. It helped that it was Clarissa, too. A little. She got enough mental fortitude back to be able to process Clarissa's words through her sobs.
"...I hate it too."
She mumbled, her voice weak, cracked and wavering as she nestled back into her pillow.
"M-mom wasn't supposed to go for a long time. She wuh... nnh... she was s'pposed to be here when I got my own car. She promised she'd tell me h'w to drive."
She remembered the exact moment. Exact feeling of mom's touch against her cheek and how utterly comforting that voice was to her ears.
"Peopl're supposed t' get better when they get sick..."
But mom couldn't because Raya's family did not make enough money. Dad hadn't told her that to her face but she could hear what the grown-ups talked about in small voices. The world wasn't fair. It shouldn't work like that. Because it worked like that mom was gone.
The V9 Children themselves:
The Machininst - Raya Loux The Petite - Sylvie Rattray-Aubert The Forlorn The Tough Guy - Manuel "Mañana" Hernández And here's outdated info about them plus where (not all of) their relationships are: viewtopic.php?t=9024
The Machininst - Raya Loux The Petite - Sylvie Rattray-Aubert The Forlorn The Tough Guy - Manuel "Mañana" Hernández And here's outdated info about them plus where (not all of) their relationships are: viewtopic.php?t=9024
Clarissa wanted a hug. It probably wasn't appropriate. Clarissa wanted a hug. Her fingers were getting numb. Raya's hair was far more difficult to comb through than doll hair. Clarissa wanted a hug. Her mind was doing that stupid thing it did where the same echo sounded over and over and over until she had to do it so everything was quiet again. Clarissa wanted a hug. Clarissa knew making her own stupid fuzzy feeling brain quiet wouldn't help make Raya's weak breaths and sobs any less agonizing.
She crawled into the eerily cold space between the edge of the bed and the start of Raya, one knee at a time. Raya was very tall already and Clarissa hadn't done much growing yet. There wasn't enough bed behind Clarissa and she could feel the siren call of gravity dragging her down to a painful fate of floor-shaped tailbone.
It was a powerful, distracting sensation, but she ignored it even though it was all but impossible to.
It was a bit warmer now. Not much. It wasn't a hug, which Clarissa had wanted, and Clarissa felt her thoughts continue to dully riot with the picket signs with the words and the chants. A whole lifetime of Raya being her first and only line of defense. Now it was just Clarissa alone, even when the two of them were so close even their eyelashes couldn't keep each other at bay.
Clarissa rested her forehead on Raya's own. Dark droplet stains followed her eyes on the blanket below.
"Whu-wh. Why didn't they... tell us. What was happening." Another selfish thought, much like wanting a hug. Clarissa got the sense that she and Raya had suffered all the more, watching Auntie Sophia slowly become this different Thing that no amount of bad and sad words could adequately describe, how much it hurt to even look at her when she'd gotten so thin and frail, and Uncle Jacob and Mom and Dad had just tried to pretend everything was okay when it wasn't.
Even crying Clarissa sounded like a single piano note hammered, over and over.
"M-may-maybe... it would've hurt l-lhh-less. If we'd had time."
"I..."
"I want to learn to drive together." Again, she calmed. It was hard to not want to do that thing she sometimes did where she stopped talking and barely breathed when she was struggling through the painful thoughts. It took every bit of her. But thinking about the things she did like, and the things she did want to do, that made her stacatto hummingbird weak breath calm, deepen a bit.
It was wrong. She was so selfish.
"I still do. Even... if it's just us."
Clarissa couldn't keep eye contact. Her eyes were too squishy drenched anyways.
She crawled into the eerily cold space between the edge of the bed and the start of Raya, one knee at a time. Raya was very tall already and Clarissa hadn't done much growing yet. There wasn't enough bed behind Clarissa and she could feel the siren call of gravity dragging her down to a painful fate of floor-shaped tailbone.
It was a powerful, distracting sensation, but she ignored it even though it was all but impossible to.
It was a bit warmer now. Not much. It wasn't a hug, which Clarissa had wanted, and Clarissa felt her thoughts continue to dully riot with the picket signs with the words and the chants. A whole lifetime of Raya being her first and only line of defense. Now it was just Clarissa alone, even when the two of them were so close even their eyelashes couldn't keep each other at bay.
Clarissa rested her forehead on Raya's own. Dark droplet stains followed her eyes on the blanket below.
"Whu-wh. Why didn't they... tell us. What was happening." Another selfish thought, much like wanting a hug. Clarissa got the sense that she and Raya had suffered all the more, watching Auntie Sophia slowly become this different Thing that no amount of bad and sad words could adequately describe, how much it hurt to even look at her when she'd gotten so thin and frail, and Uncle Jacob and Mom and Dad had just tried to pretend everything was okay when it wasn't.
Even crying Clarissa sounded like a single piano note hammered, over and over.
"M-may-maybe... it would've hurt l-lhh-less. If we'd had time."
"I..."
"I want to learn to drive together." Again, she calmed. It was hard to not want to do that thing she sometimes did where she stopped talking and barely breathed when she was struggling through the painful thoughts. It took every bit of her. But thinking about the things she did like, and the things she did want to do, that made her stacatto hummingbird weak breath calm, deepen a bit.
It was wrong. She was so selfish.
"I still do. Even... if it's just us."
Clarissa couldn't keep eye contact. Her eyes were too squishy drenched anyways.
-
LYourLocalAutist
- Posts: 268
- Joined: Sun May 19, 2024 2:50 pm
- Location: IN YOUR HEAAAAD IN YOUR HEAAAAAAAAD ZOMBIE, ZOMBIE, ZOMBIE-E-E
Raya's breath came ragged, and not very often either. She felt Clarissa gently clamber up to where she was near her but not really near her. She knew what she wanted. Even when she felt like this, she had that sense she'd had so often around Clarissa. But here it was useless. And that was horrible. She knew what Clarissa wanted and didn't want to give it and barely knew why. She just kept herself still, save for the shudders. Kept crying.
Their foreheads touching, she could allow. But even that was just that—an allowance. Raya couldn't help but feel that she ruined everything. It was a kind of extension of the rot mom dying brought. Horrible rotting inside that broke everything it touched. Even her best friend. Clarissa's words were almost muffled coming into her ears. Raya was in her own world. A wilting and decaying one where she was every problem at once. One she sank deeper inside the more she thought about it. About mom.
She realized, then, that Clarissa had stopped talking. She tried to play back the words that'd came out of her mouth, but even thinking hurt.
"Mom didn't want us to worry..."
She mumbled, and her heart wrenched. That was probably the worst of it. Even when mom was wasting away, becoming something she wasn't because of a sickness no one could fix, she thought about her kids first. She didn't want them to spend that year with that solid knowledge that their mom was going to die. It was doubly worse that Raya'd known anyway and it had made everything worse despite mom's intentions being entirely pure.
"...Yeah."
Was the only thing she could say about Clarissa's second statement. She felt completely out of it. It was something genuine and meaningful Clarissa had pulled out despite herself and Raya just couldn't bring herself to feel anymore. Her eyes weren't looking anywhere in particular, and she remained silent, thinking of very little. Detached and rotting.
Their foreheads touching, she could allow. But even that was just that—an allowance. Raya couldn't help but feel that she ruined everything. It was a kind of extension of the rot mom dying brought. Horrible rotting inside that broke everything it touched. Even her best friend. Clarissa's words were almost muffled coming into her ears. Raya was in her own world. A wilting and decaying one where she was every problem at once. One she sank deeper inside the more she thought about it. About mom.
She realized, then, that Clarissa had stopped talking. She tried to play back the words that'd came out of her mouth, but even thinking hurt.
"Mom didn't want us to worry..."
She mumbled, and her heart wrenched. That was probably the worst of it. Even when mom was wasting away, becoming something she wasn't because of a sickness no one could fix, she thought about her kids first. She didn't want them to spend that year with that solid knowledge that their mom was going to die. It was doubly worse that Raya'd known anyway and it had made everything worse despite mom's intentions being entirely pure.
"...Yeah."
Was the only thing she could say about Clarissa's second statement. She felt completely out of it. It was something genuine and meaningful Clarissa had pulled out despite herself and Raya just couldn't bring herself to feel anymore. Her eyes weren't looking anywhere in particular, and she remained silent, thinking of very little. Detached and rotting.
The V9 Children themselves:
The Machininst - Raya Loux The Petite - Sylvie Rattray-Aubert The Forlorn The Tough Guy - Manuel "Mañana" Hernández And here's outdated info about them plus where (not all of) their relationships are: viewtopic.php?t=9024
The Machininst - Raya Loux The Petite - Sylvie Rattray-Aubert The Forlorn The Tough Guy - Manuel "Mañana" Hernández And here's outdated info about them plus where (not all of) their relationships are: viewtopic.php?t=9024
"... I'm sorry."
Raya was right. That's what the adults had been doing, trying to make sure none of them worried. It was just Clarissa having thoughts that probably weren't the right ones. Focusing on the wrong things, like her old teachers and her old friends had told her at school she did. It wasn't about her stupid brain, or her stupid hugs, it was about Raya and how Clarissa felt... other things like scared and upset, that Raya was just lying there, still, the air that she was supposed to be breathing barely touched. Clarissa recognized that because feeling those needy, demanding thoughts itched and scratched at her elbows and her neck and her cheeks and her eyes, and above the skin and below and everywhere and, and
None of it mattered. She wanted Raya to be okay. It didn't matter if Clarissa wasn't okay, if Raya was. Clarissa would have suffered for the rest of her life if she could somehow make Raya feel a little better.
The air conditioner continued to rumble and grumble and make the room too cold. No blanket between the two of them. Raya was like a dead lightbulb, no warmer than room tempurature.
Something something Clarissa wanted a hug but she ignored the brain itch. She lay there, passive. Some part of her that was still capable of being anything besides miserable began counting. One second, two second, three second, four second, five second
One eternity, two eternity.
Actually, five minutes and counting. Clarissa refused to move, or to look Raya in the eye, or to anything. She was just there, as if somehow that would be enough. It wouldn't be, and she knew it.
She... hated herself for it. It was all her fault. She hated herself. She wasn't strong enough.
If Sylvie had been Raya's best friend, she could have done something. Clarissa wished it, all of a sudden. That Sylvie was the one who Raya had loved all her life. Then Raya could have felt better, because she'd have a good friend who actually knew how to talk and how to do things like a normal person. It was a weird thought, and in the morgue-like silence that draped over them like the lid to a coffin, it was all she could think. That, and counting the seconds.
three twenty-oh, three twenty-one, three twenty-two, three twenty-three
Raya was right. That's what the adults had been doing, trying to make sure none of them worried. It was just Clarissa having thoughts that probably weren't the right ones. Focusing on the wrong things, like her old teachers and her old friends had told her at school she did. It wasn't about her stupid brain, or her stupid hugs, it was about Raya and how Clarissa felt... other things like scared and upset, that Raya was just lying there, still, the air that she was supposed to be breathing barely touched. Clarissa recognized that because feeling those needy, demanding thoughts itched and scratched at her elbows and her neck and her cheeks and her eyes, and above the skin and below and everywhere and, and
None of it mattered. She wanted Raya to be okay. It didn't matter if Clarissa wasn't okay, if Raya was. Clarissa would have suffered for the rest of her life if she could somehow make Raya feel a little better.
The air conditioner continued to rumble and grumble and make the room too cold. No blanket between the two of them. Raya was like a dead lightbulb, no warmer than room tempurature.
Something something Clarissa wanted a hug but she ignored the brain itch. She lay there, passive. Some part of her that was still capable of being anything besides miserable began counting. One second, two second, three second, four second, five second
One eternity, two eternity.
Actually, five minutes and counting. Clarissa refused to move, or to look Raya in the eye, or to anything. She was just there, as if somehow that would be enough. It wouldn't be, and she knew it.
She... hated herself for it. It was all her fault. She hated herself. She wasn't strong enough.
If Sylvie had been Raya's best friend, she could have done something. Clarissa wished it, all of a sudden. That Sylvie was the one who Raya had loved all her life. Then Raya could have felt better, because she'd have a good friend who actually knew how to talk and how to do things like a normal person. It was a weird thought, and in the morgue-like silence that draped over them like the lid to a coffin, it was all she could think. That, and counting the seconds.
three twenty-oh, three twenty-one, three twenty-two, three twenty-three
-
LYourLocalAutist
- Posts: 268
- Joined: Sun May 19, 2024 2:50 pm
- Location: IN YOUR HEAAAAD IN YOUR HEAAAAAAAAD ZOMBIE, ZOMBIE, ZOMBIE-E-E
Dead silence, radio static. Some kind of present heat death Raya did nothing to overcome. She didn't want to do anything. Languishing in nothing meant she didn't have to face anything... including thoughts of mom. It meant she didn't have to think about how she was making Clarissa and dad and Jack and Ethan feel with how she acted. It meant she didn't have to think, which was as good a painkiller as anything when it hurt just to be.
She just waited, idling, trying to sink deeper. There was something blocking her from sinking completely, though. It had something to do with Clarissa being there. It made her feel worse. Why couldn't she just go as well? With mom? Maybe everything would've been that much easier if that had been the case. But then everyone else would as bad as her. It was a selfish thought which made Raya try to sink back into thoughtlessness one more time as the minutes ticked by. The interruption from that attempt came from a knock on the door.
It was a gentle one, but audible. The voice that came through the door was one familiar to both girls, but tinged with that underlying pain everyone had in their voice ever since mom had died. It was Jacob. He was talking almost like he could break something just with his voice, a far cry from how he usually acted. Lightly muffled, the voice came through:
"...You girls okay in there? Do you need anything?"
She just waited, idling, trying to sink deeper. There was something blocking her from sinking completely, though. It had something to do with Clarissa being there. It made her feel worse. Why couldn't she just go as well? With mom? Maybe everything would've been that much easier if that had been the case. But then everyone else would as bad as her. It was a selfish thought which made Raya try to sink back into thoughtlessness one more time as the minutes ticked by. The interruption from that attempt came from a knock on the door.
It was a gentle one, but audible. The voice that came through the door was one familiar to both girls, but tinged with that underlying pain everyone had in their voice ever since mom had died. It was Jacob. He was talking almost like he could break something just with his voice, a far cry from how he usually acted. Lightly muffled, the voice came through:
"...You girls okay in there? Do you need anything?"
The V9 Children themselves:
The Machininst - Raya Loux The Petite - Sylvie Rattray-Aubert The Forlorn The Tough Guy - Manuel "Mañana" Hernández And here's outdated info about them plus where (not all of) their relationships are: viewtopic.php?t=9024
The Machininst - Raya Loux The Petite - Sylvie Rattray-Aubert The Forlorn The Tough Guy - Manuel "Mañana" Hernández And here's outdated info about them plus where (not all of) their relationships are: viewtopic.php?t=9024
six oh-one, six oh-two, six oh-three
Featureless as a metronome. Clarissa wasn’t sure where she was. Everything was just a bunch of blocky shapes and shadows. All she knew was that she and Raya were together. That was supposed to be a comforting fact, it was always supposed to be a comforting fact, but it wasn’t. And that was wrong, and Clarissa probably would have been angry about that. If she wasn’t reduced to room ambiance.
one thou’ thirty-three, one thou’ thirty-four, one thou’ thirty-five
The knock
The voice
Explosions in Clarissa’s ears. In her eyes, and she hadn’t even realized her two eyeballs had wandered so aimlessly that the whole room had become a featureless blur. She’d thought all the blobby blobs had just been her tears.
Sticky itchy too warm and too cold at once because the air conditioner turned to ice every inch of skin she hadn’t freshly paved over with her irregular moments of crying.
Uncle Jacob sounded different. Clarissa couldn’t figure out what was broken but something was. It was the same kind of broken that Raya was.
Clarissa missed Auntie Sophia. Everything was wrong because she wasn’t with them anymore.
“GO AWAY.”
Clarissa didn’t sound mad, or like much of anything at all, to be honest. That, at least, hadn’t changed.
She wanted to make the stupid air conditioner stop already, but she didn’t want to get up and do it, and she didn’t want Raya to get up and do it because Raya needed rest, and she didn’t want the adults to do it because they might take her away from her best friend. Clarissa didn’t know what she wanted. It was all too much.
one thou’ seventy-three, one thou’ seventy-four
Featureless as a metronome. Clarissa wasn’t sure where she was. Everything was just a bunch of blocky shapes and shadows. All she knew was that she and Raya were together. That was supposed to be a comforting fact, it was always supposed to be a comforting fact, but it wasn’t. And that was wrong, and Clarissa probably would have been angry about that. If she wasn’t reduced to room ambiance.
one thou’ thirty-three, one thou’ thirty-four, one thou’ thirty-five
The knock
The voice
Explosions in Clarissa’s ears. In her eyes, and she hadn’t even realized her two eyeballs had wandered so aimlessly that the whole room had become a featureless blur. She’d thought all the blobby blobs had just been her tears.
Sticky itchy too warm and too cold at once because the air conditioner turned to ice every inch of skin she hadn’t freshly paved over with her irregular moments of crying.
Uncle Jacob sounded different. Clarissa couldn’t figure out what was broken but something was. It was the same kind of broken that Raya was.
Clarissa missed Auntie Sophia. Everything was wrong because she wasn’t with them anymore.
“GO AWAY.”
Clarissa didn’t sound mad, or like much of anything at all, to be honest. That, at least, hadn’t changed.
She wanted to make the stupid air conditioner stop already, but she didn’t want to get up and do it, and she didn’t want Raya to get up and do it because Raya needed rest, and she didn’t want the adults to do it because they might take her away from her best friend. Clarissa didn’t know what she wanted. It was all too much.
one thou’ seventy-three, one thou’ seventy-four
-
LYourLocalAutist
- Posts: 268
- Joined: Sun May 19, 2024 2:50 pm
- Location: IN YOUR HEAAAAD IN YOUR HEAAAAAAAAD ZOMBIE, ZOMBIE, ZOMBIE-E-E
Outside the door, there was an inaudible flinch at the loudness of Clarissa's response, combined with its tone of... nothing. Nothing at all. Jacob experienced a small bout of internal conflict. As he pushed lightly off the door. He couldn't leave them alone forever. But he of all people knew what they were feeling in there. He couldn't just let them stew. They were too young to be going through any of this. They couldn't...
They were too young.
The voice came through the door again.
"...I'll come back. And Clarissa..."
He knew it wasn't the best choice to make, but he couldn't just leave his own daughter entirely uncared for. He felt enough like scum leaving her alone as was.
"...Could you make sure Raya's eating? Please."
Even if it was Clarissa he was putting that responsibility on, he hoped she'd come through. If nothing else, for her friend.
Raya was unresponsive the entire time. Still sinking slowly. Nothing to be done from her point of view.
They were too young.
The voice came through the door again.
"...I'll come back. And Clarissa..."
He knew it wasn't the best choice to make, but he couldn't just leave his own daughter entirely uncared for. He felt enough like scum leaving her alone as was.
"...Could you make sure Raya's eating? Please."
Even if it was Clarissa he was putting that responsibility on, he hoped she'd come through. If nothing else, for her friend.
Raya was unresponsive the entire time. Still sinking slowly. Nothing to be done from her point of view.
The V9 Children themselves:
The Machininst - Raya Loux The Petite - Sylvie Rattray-Aubert The Forlorn The Tough Guy - Manuel "Mañana" Hernández And here's outdated info about them plus where (not all of) their relationships are: viewtopic.php?t=9024
The Machininst - Raya Loux The Petite - Sylvie Rattray-Aubert The Forlorn The Tough Guy - Manuel "Mañana" Hernández And here's outdated info about them plus where (not all of) their relationships are: viewtopic.php?t=9024
one thou’ ninety-nine, one thou-one, one thou-one one
“OKAY.”
She didn’t know what else to say.
Or how to say it quieter.
Uncle Jacob went away, his soft footsteps quieter than the too loud air conditioner and the too loud her own sniffly snot squishy breathing.
one thou-one eleven, one thou-one twelve
Clarissa, for the first time in a while, could see Raya. Literally not a thing had changed about her physically. Same stone face, same paper clothes, same brick hair.
Clarissa almost cried again at the sight. She had been crying too much, and it sucked, because she wasn’t even supposed to be the one who was crying.
Uncle Jacob had entrusted her with something really important, and Clarissa liked doing a thing an adult told her to do when it didn’t really annoy her and make her mad. It made her feel steady, like the world made sense and everything wasn’t too loud and exploding. It made her feel like she could do something that mattered. There weren’t many other things in the world that did that. Her doll collection. Mom and Dad explaining things to her while they worked on the cars in the garage.
Raya. Her voice, her touch.
Clarissa had something to do but she didn’t know what to do. Even though it was obvious. The smelly food that would tear up her tongue and throat if she tried to eat it but would make Raya more healthy was still where she’d left it on Raya’s desk.
But Clarissa felt so heavy. Raya was like a black hole consuming the whole room, and according to Mrs. Pruitt, their teacher, black holes were like, big toilets or something, and Clarissa couldn’t escape and she was drowning so that sounded about right.
one thou-three seventy-five, one thou-three seventy-six
She got up. It was hard.
She trudged over, stomp stomp stomp, to the room’s thermostat, she knew where it was because she knew where everything in the room was and it was yet another Too Much that everything was in the wrong place and a total mess and too dark and shadowy.
It was hard.
The air conditioner quieted down but now the static noise in her head was louder to make up for it. And the click clack of her teeth. She hadn’t even noticed she’d been shivering. Her shoulders and ribs were really sore.
Clarissa returned to the bedside and stared at Raya, an expression on her face that was unreadable because none of the pages had been written.
"Raya. I'm scared."
“OKAY.”
She didn’t know what else to say.
Or how to say it quieter.
Uncle Jacob went away, his soft footsteps quieter than the too loud air conditioner and the too loud her own sniffly snot squishy breathing.
one thou-one eleven, one thou-one twelve
Clarissa, for the first time in a while, could see Raya. Literally not a thing had changed about her physically. Same stone face, same paper clothes, same brick hair.
Clarissa almost cried again at the sight. She had been crying too much, and it sucked, because she wasn’t even supposed to be the one who was crying.
Uncle Jacob had entrusted her with something really important, and Clarissa liked doing a thing an adult told her to do when it didn’t really annoy her and make her mad. It made her feel steady, like the world made sense and everything wasn’t too loud and exploding. It made her feel like she could do something that mattered. There weren’t many other things in the world that did that. Her doll collection. Mom and Dad explaining things to her while they worked on the cars in the garage.
Raya. Her voice, her touch.
Clarissa had something to do but she didn’t know what to do. Even though it was obvious. The smelly food that would tear up her tongue and throat if she tried to eat it but would make Raya more healthy was still where she’d left it on Raya’s desk.
But Clarissa felt so heavy. Raya was like a black hole consuming the whole room, and according to Mrs. Pruitt, their teacher, black holes were like, big toilets or something, and Clarissa couldn’t escape and she was drowning so that sounded about right.
one thou-three seventy-five, one thou-three seventy-six
She got up. It was hard.
She trudged over, stomp stomp stomp, to the room’s thermostat, she knew where it was because she knew where everything in the room was and it was yet another Too Much that everything was in the wrong place and a total mess and too dark and shadowy.
It was hard.
The air conditioner quieted down but now the static noise in her head was louder to make up for it. And the click clack of her teeth. She hadn’t even noticed she’d been shivering. Her shoulders and ribs were really sore.
Clarissa returned to the bedside and stared at Raya, an expression on her face that was unreadable because none of the pages had been written.
"Raya. I'm scared."
-
LYourLocalAutist
- Posts: 268
- Joined: Sun May 19, 2024 2:50 pm
- Location: IN YOUR HEAAAAD IN YOUR HEAAAAAAAAD ZOMBIE, ZOMBIE, ZOMBIE-E-E
Jacob felt some small relief wash over him. As long as there was someone, anyone watching over his little girl during a time like this... It should be him. But Raya had snapped at him enough times for him to recognize it was a fruitless effort for now and he had two other boys to take care of. He turned away and quietly made his way back down the hall.
Raya continued to wallow and fester in the meantime, almost in spite of the new activity around her. She didn't want to hear about it or even feel about it. It was the continuing, unfounded idea that just maybe, if she kept pretending everything didn't exist, maybe everything could return to normal. Maybe it could all just have been a dream. A bad, bad dream she'd wake up from any second now.
Any second now.
...
Nothing happened, and it would be that way for a little while longer. She could at least stay like this. In her little bubble where everything hurt a little less. She could stay in it forever if she needed to. Just until she could see mom again. She was about to go even deeper when something, despite everything, broke through to her. A voice tinged in a tone she knew well.
I'm scared
Raya's eyes widened slightly. For the first time in a while, her body shifted, if only imperceptibly. Like an instinct. Some part of herself which still existed in spite of the rot and loathed to hear those words. Her eyes turned and focused on the shape of her best friend. Blur and darkness cleared. Like rising from the bog. Her brow furrowed and her face twisted slightly... melancholy tinged with empathy. But try as she did, it couldn't go any further. The desire to help and keep others from feeling hurt wasn't some cascade of divinity and light. She still wallowed. But she needed to say something. Anything. She opened her mouth.
"It..."
She tried her best to make her voice clear, to push her tone away from one that would make it clear she didn't believe her own words. She had to try, at least now. For her friend.
"...It'll be okay, 'Rissa."
Raya continued to wallow and fester in the meantime, almost in spite of the new activity around her. She didn't want to hear about it or even feel about it. It was the continuing, unfounded idea that just maybe, if she kept pretending everything didn't exist, maybe everything could return to normal. Maybe it could all just have been a dream. A bad, bad dream she'd wake up from any second now.
Any second now.
...
Nothing happened, and it would be that way for a little while longer. She could at least stay like this. In her little bubble where everything hurt a little less. She could stay in it forever if she needed to. Just until she could see mom again. She was about to go even deeper when something, despite everything, broke through to her. A voice tinged in a tone she knew well.
I'm scared
Raya's eyes widened slightly. For the first time in a while, her body shifted, if only imperceptibly. Like an instinct. Some part of herself which still existed in spite of the rot and loathed to hear those words. Her eyes turned and focused on the shape of her best friend. Blur and darkness cleared. Like rising from the bog. Her brow furrowed and her face twisted slightly... melancholy tinged with empathy. But try as she did, it couldn't go any further. The desire to help and keep others from feeling hurt wasn't some cascade of divinity and light. She still wallowed. But she needed to say something. Anything. She opened her mouth.
"It..."
She tried her best to make her voice clear, to push her tone away from one that would make it clear she didn't believe her own words. She had to try, at least now. For her friend.
"...It'll be okay, 'Rissa."
The V9 Children themselves:
The Machininst - Raya Loux The Petite - Sylvie Rattray-Aubert The Forlorn The Tough Guy - Manuel "Mañana" Hernández And here's outdated info about them plus where (not all of) their relationships are: viewtopic.php?t=9024
The Machininst - Raya Loux The Petite - Sylvie Rattray-Aubert The Forlorn The Tough Guy - Manuel "Mañana" Hernández And here's outdated info about them plus where (not all of) their relationships are: viewtopic.php?t=9024
The clonky metronome in Clarissa’s head clicked, turning off.
Raya’s broken sounding voice ground all the machinery to a halt. The cold comfort of something she understood, gone, replaced with the void that was looking her best friend in the world in the eyes and recording, moment by moment, the suffering Clarissa knew she couldn’t fix.
“You don’t mean that.”
And Clarissa sounded almost mad, or at least, some form of emote besides literally nothing but paper white static. For the first time since she’d stepped into that room, and probably for the first time in a few days, at least if you asked her parents.
She didn’t know what exactly it was she had heard in Raya’s tone. Or what she saw in the shadows and angles in Raya’s face. It sounded different from every other attempt Raya had ever made to soothe Clarissa at school or at the park or when eating out with their family— and if the Shoemakers and the Loux’s ever ate together again it would be minus one, and Clarissa almost collapsed back into the bed in response to that haunting image getting stuck among all the others— and Clarissa did not know what it was about Raya’s way-too-adult sounding tiny and broken scrap heap of a voice that hurt so bad to force herself to really listen to. It wasn’t like Raya didn’t sometimes sound more mad, or more sad, or more of any other negative emotion Clarissa had learned to identify over the years based on how guilty she’d felt when she’d begged Raya to comfort her for the billionth time that month.
This time it was worse. It was so so much worse and it was staying worse and Clarissa wanted to run away because she didn’t know what screw she could tighten or what porcelaine she could polish. But she couldn’t run, and the only way her emotions could maybe break out of the too hot too screaming pile in her head was if she started screaming, and she could feel the urge, raw, animal, welling up from her ribs like tendrils through her chest.
A tantrum. No control, no Clarissa behind the wheel. That thing she did so much it made everyone around her so, so tired.
She forced it all down. For once in her life.
For maybe the first time ever in her life.
“Thank you.”
Raya didn’t deserve to deal with Clarissa. Not now, not when she was the one who needed help. Clarissa didn’t know the specifics, the diagram of how Raya’s grief interacted with the tone in her voice, Clarissa didn’t know how the feelings that made up being human went through the intake, went out the exhaust, exploded and popped the compressors, spun the cylinders, dripped the oil, heated up the radiator
She didn’t know anything, not a damn thing. But Raya was her friend. That had to be enough. It had to be the not-good-enough answer that Clarissa could accept.
Clarissa reached over with a hand. Still tremble-y. Like her teeth, because she was still too cold. She wanted everything to be still, for the random bits and pieces of her body to shut up and stop making little rattly bone noises. Echoing in her ears, more annoying, always annoying, too many noises competing for space in her head, teeming like a packed hive of bees.
She gently lay her hand, jittery fingers and all, over Raya’s forehead. Gentle as a girl obsessed with her dolls could cradle something smaller than her.
Raya was still taller. Didn’t matter.
“I love you.”
All the storm of thoughts was still there, flooding her tiny body that wasn’t built to withstand the devastation. The need for a hug, for Raya to tell her things that would make her happier, the being too cold. All the itching and the need to scratch, to give up, to give in.
None of it mattered.
She had to grow up and be stronger. It sounded so scary. The way the future was so empty, a void in her carefully structured and ordered thoughts. Another burden to bear, another anxiety to stack on top of her own too tiny shoulders.
But she had to do it for her friends. Clarissa had had had to stop being a burden on them.
“Raya, you need to eat.”
Clarissa had to do something but she didn’t know what to do.
But she could figure it out.
She wasn’t a grown up yet. But she’d be one someday. And then, maybe then, she’d understand what she didn’t yet. For now, she just had to be there for Raya. Like Raya was there for her.
Clarissa went, came back with the sandwich on the plate. Still shivering, red splotchy cheeks still sticky from the dried tears.
She hesitated to take a bite. In her mind, that was. It threw up all the red flags and roadblocks and danger strobes it usually did. The smell was wrong, the taste was wrong, she hated it, she’d literally die.
In reality she put it through her teeth in an instant, chomped, barely chewed. Swallowed.
Like a glob of grease on her tongue. Like glass going down her throat. The flavors were all alien and might as well have been dirt. What she recognized as lettuce was like swallowing thorns and briar. Tomato, like sinew and gristle. Not comfortable. Not right. It hurt. It hurt and she was going to puke, and she needed to scrape off her tongue, and it was all wrong, and
Clarissa smiled, so tiny, with her eyes and her lips.
Behind her face, in her skull, everything was exploding. But the world wasn’t her mind. The world was her, and Raya, and Raya’s bedroom, and this stupid sandwich she hated, and Raya’s house, and the hole left in their lives by Auntie Sophia, and the breakfasts at IHOP, and the cars down in The Car Doctors, and in Autovet, and the sky that danced with the sun and the stars, and the teachers at school, and the little giggles in the class when somebody said a joke Clarissa didn’t get, and Sylvie’s room with the squishy soft everything, and
Clarissa belonged to it too. She belonged with her friends, because she loved them, and she’d become better for them.
“You now.”
She held up the sandwich with the Clarissa-sized nibble she’d taken out of it, smiling easy, breathing easy, her inner self furiously holding together the meltdown in the reactor of her head.
It was the first time she’d ever eaten anything that hadn’t been an Oreo, or pasta with spaghetti sauce, or pasta with alfredo sauce. She hated it.
She’d eat the whole damn thing if she had to.
Raya’s broken sounding voice ground all the machinery to a halt. The cold comfort of something she understood, gone, replaced with the void that was looking her best friend in the world in the eyes and recording, moment by moment, the suffering Clarissa knew she couldn’t fix.
“You don’t mean that.”
And Clarissa sounded almost mad, or at least, some form of emote besides literally nothing but paper white static. For the first time since she’d stepped into that room, and probably for the first time in a few days, at least if you asked her parents.
She didn’t know what exactly it was she had heard in Raya’s tone. Or what she saw in the shadows and angles in Raya’s face. It sounded different from every other attempt Raya had ever made to soothe Clarissa at school or at the park or when eating out with their family— and if the Shoemakers and the Loux’s ever ate together again it would be minus one, and Clarissa almost collapsed back into the bed in response to that haunting image getting stuck among all the others— and Clarissa did not know what it was about Raya’s way-too-adult sounding tiny and broken scrap heap of a voice that hurt so bad to force herself to really listen to. It wasn’t like Raya didn’t sometimes sound more mad, or more sad, or more of any other negative emotion Clarissa had learned to identify over the years based on how guilty she’d felt when she’d begged Raya to comfort her for the billionth time that month.
This time it was worse. It was so so much worse and it was staying worse and Clarissa wanted to run away because she didn’t know what screw she could tighten or what porcelaine she could polish. But she couldn’t run, and the only way her emotions could maybe break out of the too hot too screaming pile in her head was if she started screaming, and she could feel the urge, raw, animal, welling up from her ribs like tendrils through her chest.
A tantrum. No control, no Clarissa behind the wheel. That thing she did so much it made everyone around her so, so tired.
She forced it all down. For once in her life.
For maybe the first time ever in her life.
“Thank you.”
Raya didn’t deserve to deal with Clarissa. Not now, not when she was the one who needed help. Clarissa didn’t know the specifics, the diagram of how Raya’s grief interacted with the tone in her voice, Clarissa didn’t know how the feelings that made up being human went through the intake, went out the exhaust, exploded and popped the compressors, spun the cylinders, dripped the oil, heated up the radiator
She didn’t know anything, not a damn thing. But Raya was her friend. That had to be enough. It had to be the not-good-enough answer that Clarissa could accept.
Clarissa reached over with a hand. Still tremble-y. Like her teeth, because she was still too cold. She wanted everything to be still, for the random bits and pieces of her body to shut up and stop making little rattly bone noises. Echoing in her ears, more annoying, always annoying, too many noises competing for space in her head, teeming like a packed hive of bees.
She gently lay her hand, jittery fingers and all, over Raya’s forehead. Gentle as a girl obsessed with her dolls could cradle something smaller than her.
Raya was still taller. Didn’t matter.
“I love you.”
All the storm of thoughts was still there, flooding her tiny body that wasn’t built to withstand the devastation. The need for a hug, for Raya to tell her things that would make her happier, the being too cold. All the itching and the need to scratch, to give up, to give in.
None of it mattered.
She had to grow up and be stronger. It sounded so scary. The way the future was so empty, a void in her carefully structured and ordered thoughts. Another burden to bear, another anxiety to stack on top of her own too tiny shoulders.
But she had to do it for her friends. Clarissa had had had to stop being a burden on them.
“Raya, you need to eat.”
Clarissa had to do something but she didn’t know what to do.
But she could figure it out.
She wasn’t a grown up yet. But she’d be one someday. And then, maybe then, she’d understand what she didn’t yet. For now, she just had to be there for Raya. Like Raya was there for her.
Clarissa went, came back with the sandwich on the plate. Still shivering, red splotchy cheeks still sticky from the dried tears.
She hesitated to take a bite. In her mind, that was. It threw up all the red flags and roadblocks and danger strobes it usually did. The smell was wrong, the taste was wrong, she hated it, she’d literally die.
In reality she put it through her teeth in an instant, chomped, barely chewed. Swallowed.
Like a glob of grease on her tongue. Like glass going down her throat. The flavors were all alien and might as well have been dirt. What she recognized as lettuce was like swallowing thorns and briar. Tomato, like sinew and gristle. Not comfortable. Not right. It hurt. It hurt and she was going to puke, and she needed to scrape off her tongue, and it was all wrong, and
Clarissa smiled, so tiny, with her eyes and her lips.
Behind her face, in her skull, everything was exploding. But the world wasn’t her mind. The world was her, and Raya, and Raya’s bedroom, and this stupid sandwich she hated, and Raya’s house, and the hole left in their lives by Auntie Sophia, and the breakfasts at IHOP, and the cars down in The Car Doctors, and in Autovet, and the sky that danced with the sun and the stars, and the teachers at school, and the little giggles in the class when somebody said a joke Clarissa didn’t get, and Sylvie’s room with the squishy soft everything, and
Clarissa belonged to it too. She belonged with her friends, because she loved them, and she’d become better for them.
“You now.”
She held up the sandwich with the Clarissa-sized nibble she’d taken out of it, smiling easy, breathing easy, her inner self furiously holding together the meltdown in the reactor of her head.
It was the first time she’d ever eaten anything that hadn’t been an Oreo, or pasta with spaghetti sauce, or pasta with alfredo sauce. She hated it.
She’d eat the whole damn thing if she had to.
-
LYourLocalAutist
- Posts: 268
- Joined: Sun May 19, 2024 2:50 pm
- Location: IN YOUR HEAAAAD IN YOUR HEAAAAAAAAD ZOMBIE, ZOMBIE, ZOMBIE-E-E
Clarissa's words bit like ice. Almost revitalizing, but not in any capacity that could be considered positive. It was like she'd lied to a parent and got caught. Worse than that, it was another failure on her part. Now she was a liar too. Her eyes widened slightly and turned towards Clarissa's face. The tiny changes in expression. The tone of voice. Worse than everything was that Raya knew what was coming. When Clarissa got like this, not even Raya could calm her down. She closed her eyes, clutched the mattress and prepared to sink again. She didn't want to think about how she was going to handle this. Not now. Not now. She hunkered down...
...But no storm came. There was no screaming and stamping and yelling. The silence was eerie. For a moment, Raya thought she'd successfully made it so that everything was quiet enough it even blocked Clarissa out. But as she reopened herself, it was... it was still nothing. Clarissa was calm. Raya felt like she blanked slightly, looking up at her as Clarissa just caressed her and spoke comforting words. Had Raya misread her? No, she couldn't have... not when the signs were all there, so clear.
Yet here Clarissa was, acting like one of the dolls she took care of instead of herself.
Raya knew, by all means, that she should feel happy right now. Her best friend was here and acting normal and comforting and helping her. It did feel a little bit like that, a little light in the darkness. But as Raya lifted herself to a seating position, hand clutching head, she watched as Clarissa took a bit of the fourth unique thing she'd ever eaten and swallow and smile and something was deeply, deeply wrong.
For yet another moment, she tried to convince herself that things were normal. She looked up at the sandwich with the bite taken out of it, and took it, hands slightly shaking, out of Clarissa's grasp. She looked down at it, silent, her face slightly contorted in thought. She could almost, almost forget how many other things were wrong. Maybe she could forget this one as well? She lifted it to her mouth and took a bite much bigger than Clarissa's, only realizing how hungry she'd been after she started chewing and swallowing. Another bite. And another. And still Clarissa's smile couldn't leave her mind. Why that out of all things? There were so many other things to worry about.
Because it wasn't Clarissa. It was something else.
Polishing off her meal, she sighed and took another few breaths before looking up at her friend, something else than pain present for the first time in a while.
"Are you... okay?"
...But no storm came. There was no screaming and stamping and yelling. The silence was eerie. For a moment, Raya thought she'd successfully made it so that everything was quiet enough it even blocked Clarissa out. But as she reopened herself, it was... it was still nothing. Clarissa was calm. Raya felt like she blanked slightly, looking up at her as Clarissa just caressed her and spoke comforting words. Had Raya misread her? No, she couldn't have... not when the signs were all there, so clear.
Yet here Clarissa was, acting like one of the dolls she took care of instead of herself.
Raya knew, by all means, that she should feel happy right now. Her best friend was here and acting normal and comforting and helping her. It did feel a little bit like that, a little light in the darkness. But as Raya lifted herself to a seating position, hand clutching head, she watched as Clarissa took a bit of the fourth unique thing she'd ever eaten and swallow and smile and something was deeply, deeply wrong.
For yet another moment, she tried to convince herself that things were normal. She looked up at the sandwich with the bite taken out of it, and took it, hands slightly shaking, out of Clarissa's grasp. She looked down at it, silent, her face slightly contorted in thought. She could almost, almost forget how many other things were wrong. Maybe she could forget this one as well? She lifted it to her mouth and took a bite much bigger than Clarissa's, only realizing how hungry she'd been after she started chewing and swallowing. Another bite. And another. And still Clarissa's smile couldn't leave her mind. Why that out of all things? There were so many other things to worry about.
Because it wasn't Clarissa. It was something else.
Polishing off her meal, she sighed and took another few breaths before looking up at her friend, something else than pain present for the first time in a while.
"Are you... okay?"
The V9 Children themselves:
The Machininst - Raya Loux The Petite - Sylvie Rattray-Aubert The Forlorn The Tough Guy - Manuel "Mañana" Hernández And here's outdated info about them plus where (not all of) their relationships are: viewtopic.php?t=9024
The Machininst - Raya Loux The Petite - Sylvie Rattray-Aubert The Forlorn The Tough Guy - Manuel "Mañana" Hernández And here's outdated info about them plus where (not all of) their relationships are: viewtopic.php?t=9024