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Adaine shot awake, gasping for air, panicking as she rose up from the sofa, not remembering falling asleep here.
Her chest constricted harshly, she wasn’t allowed to sleep on the sofa, wasn’t allowed to sleep in communal places, she knew what would happen if they found her like this.
She stumbled as she stood, a blanket tangling her legs.
A blanket? How could she have been so stupid?
Her limbs were shaking as she wrenched the fabric from her legs and staggered away from the seat like it was a monster, her breath becoming shorter and shorter until they became sobs, violently tearing themselves from her throat as she backed against the wall.
She should leave, run, get away before they find her.
But she’s disoriented in the dark, and she can hear heavy footsteps in the hall.
Stupid, stupid, stupid.
She drops the blanket, barely noticing the weight slipping from her arms, digging her nails into her palms painfully, only the fear of making noise prevents her from hitting herself, the pain a welcome distraction from the fear.
But the footsteps are near and the dark room is blurred by tears.
“Adaine!”
The shout draws a small scream from her and she slides down the wall, into a ball, hugging her knees, hoping that maybe they hadn’t seen her, that they’d pass her over, just for tonight.
But then a shape is moving through her vision, a figure moving close to her, coming at her and she screams again, and again, her throat stinging in pain she ignores.
The shape stops moving but it’s hands keep going.
She knows what to expect, she knows she shouldn’t flinch or react but she feels so small, the panic is choking her and she feels like she might vomit.
“Adaine,” the voice comes softer this time and Adaine hates it, hates how for a second she allowed herself to feel hopeful.
Stupid.
“I’m sorry!” she chokes, and the figure jerks back.
“Adaine, Adaine, please…? Can you hear me? You need to breathe, please,”
‘Please?’ No that’s not right, they never…
“You’re safe, I promise,”
A harsh laugh comes out as a strangled sob.
“You’re safe Adaine, you’re home, I’ve got you, you’re safe, I promise, you’re at home, in our living room,”
Home if she had enough air Adaine would snort at that.
This wasn’t home, this had never been home, it would never be home.
Home was a shitty apartment with shittier furniture.
Home was coming back after work, after school, throwing her bag down and not having to worry about the mess.
Home was cooking in their tiny kitchen.
Home was watching a lousy film over takeout with Fig.
Fig.
Adaine’s mind focused on that word, quietening.
Yes, that’s right, she lives with Fig, She doesn’t live with her parents.
She lives with Fig.
She’s at home, with Fig.
Messy, loud, unorganised, infuriating, annoying Fig.
She’s at home with Fig.
Fig who’s crouching over her, giving her space as she wails on the floor like a child.
She’s home with Fig.
Slowly, Adaine’s breathing regulates and she lifts her head a fraction to look up at Fig.
Her usually bright, exuberant face is pale and terrified. Adaine’s never had an attack this bad in front of her.
“I’m sorry,” she isn’t proud of how badly her voice cracks.
“No, no, don’t Adaine, it’s ok, are you- can I- Can I hug you?”
Adaine nods and immediately Fig’s warm arms are wrapped around her, stoking her hair with one hand and taking Adaine’s in the other, forcing her to unclench her fists.
Adaine leaned her head against her roommate's chest, she’s too tired for the ugly, wracking sobs anymore but she cries.
She cries more than she has in a while.
And she hates it.
She hates how weak she feels, how exposed.
She keeps apologising, Fig telling her it was ok, stroking her back, holding her tight.
Adaine had no idea how long they sat there, the minutes snailing by until, eventually, the tears stop falling and she sags against her friend’s body.
“Hey, can I- can you sit up?”
Adaine doesn’t answer but she does, shifting slightly, with Fig’s help so she’s propped against the wall behind her.
Fig adjusts herself so she’s kneeling infront of Adaine, taking her hands again.
“Ok, can you tell me something you can see that’s soft,”
For a second her mind is blank, but then Adaine forces herself to look.
Your skin. She almost says, but decides against it.
“Blanket.”
“Good,” FIg encouraged, sighing in relief as she was able to get something slightly coherent.
“Can you tell me something warm?”
Your hands.
“Blanket,” she repeats and lets out a hollow laugh, “um… coat,”
“Well done, tell me something…” Fig pauses, thinking of another adjective, “pretty?”
“Your eyes,”
Did she say that out loud? Judging by the eyes in question widening, probably, but Adaine was too tired to care.
She didn’t know what time it was or how long she’d been asleep. She remembered coming home after a late lecture, collapsing on the sofa and… nothing more… she wondered briefly where the blanket had come from.
“Right, um, ok, so, are you… ok? I know that’s a dumb question but-”
“I’m alright…” Adaine hadn’t looked away from Fig’s eyes,holding onto her gaze like it was a life ring, “I didn’t mean to worry you, I’m sorry…”
“Oh, please don’t start that again,” Fig laughed, but Adaine could hear the edge of concern still in her voice.
“I’m just glad that you’re alright, do… Do you want to talk about it?”
Adaine shook her head.
“I was… back there…” Adaine saw the confusion on Fig’s face and continued, “back with my parents,”
Fig clenched her jaw and Adaine knew she was resisting the urge to launch into a tirade against them, she clenched her hands to let her know she appreciated it.
“I- They can’t get you Adaine. You’re safe here. With me.”
Adaine nodded and suddenly realised just how tired she was.
“What do you need tonight?”
“Water? Sleep?”
“I can do that,” smiled Fig, straightening up to step over to the kitchen, filling a glass of water and coming back, handing it to Adaine and helping her grip it with shaking hands.
“I- I can’t,” Adaine started after she’d taken a few big gulps, she knew what she needed to ask, but she couldn’t, it was weak, childish.
“I don’t want to be alone,” She managed eventually, looking down and speaking so quietly she didn’t think Fig would be able to hear her.
But she did, and a few minutes later they were in Fig’s bed, wrapped up under the sheets, with Fig’s arms around her again as Adaine curled into her.
Just as Adaine was on the verge of dreaming, although later she wouldn’t be sure which side of the line she’d been on, she felt Fig’s lips on her forehead followed by a whispered,
“I’ll keep you safe, I promise,”
Adaine drifted off with one thought in her mind.
She was home.