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kayipThey came back. Finally, he let himself sleep, without the crawling feeling of blood dripping from his neck, laughter and changing voices. It's a quiet, and he knows what's there, which is just about the closest thing to safety you can get, really.
He resists trying to wake himself up, when he knows he's asleep. It's warm – there's a slight breeze and leaves are starting to crowd on the ground. He sits near a tree, and doesn't have to wait very long before they appear, bright eyes lingering on him momentarily before wandering again, mostly starting to paw at the ground. But one slinks past, and stares at him for a long moment.
I'm fine.
She blinks, and he can feel the uncertainty – he doesn't have to say anything for them to know something is wrong, something very bad had happened, something was different. And it was, in its way, sort of nice – that he didn't have to talk about it.
It didn't cover it up, though. You won't understand. But I'm fine.
Not enough. It's clear, and he blinks up, almost startled. Something that feels like a head shake, a soft sigh. It'll come back. For you, it does. Stop.
He's already protesting, faintly, but her eyes are steady and he's quiet.
Stop. Protect yourself.
His eyes blink first, and his hand brushes the leaves; red – it's like she could blend in with them. Behrooz knows when she's walked off. A brittle stem breaks under his touch, and he knows she's right. It's warmer, and the wind dies as he looks up and the leaf crumbles between his fingers.
(And I won't be hit again.)
He resists trying to wake himself up, when he knows he's asleep. It's warm – there's a slight breeze and leaves are starting to crowd on the ground. He sits near a tree, and doesn't have to wait very long before they appear, bright eyes lingering on him momentarily before wandering again, mostly starting to paw at the ground. But one slinks past, and stares at him for a long moment.
I'm fine.
She blinks, and he can feel the uncertainty – he doesn't have to say anything for them to know something is wrong, something very bad had happened, something was different. And it was, in its way, sort of nice – that he didn't have to talk about it.
It didn't cover it up, though. You won't understand. But I'm fine.
Not enough. It's clear, and he blinks up, almost startled. Something that feels like a head shake, a soft sigh. It'll come back. For you, it does. Stop.
He's already protesting, faintly, but her eyes are steady and he's quiet.
Stop. Protect yourself.
His eyes blink first, and his hand brushes the leaves; red – it's like she could blend in with them. Behrooz knows when she's walked off. A brittle stem breaks under his touch, and he knows she's right. It's warmer, and the wind dies as he looks up and the leaf crumbles between his fingers.
(And I won't be hit again.)
