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Summary
The solitude is what truly scared her. It scares her still. Presses on her chest until she can't breathe. It leadens her limbs, phantom pains reminding her of the endless nights she spent at the bottom of every bottle. The sorry little box spring she called a bed rigid but familiar.
It's all so stark from the satin or bamboo silk that caresses her skin now. The soft luxury not a shield from the memories but it's becoming a comfort for the nights where she wakes in a cold sweat, the room fuzzy around the edges so her mind almost gets away with the trick. That she's back down there, or she wakes with the smell of blood in her nose, the crimson smattered and oozing from an eye that will never see again. That is, until she takes a full breath, hand blindly reaching out until she touches smooth warmth–
Sometimes, the depths of her own affections frightens her. How she wishes to crawl inside this woman's skin, nestle herself behind her ribs. Call that place home as long as she's allowed.
She makes do with burying her nose in Caitlyn's hair, both arms wrapping around her until there isn't a part of their bodies not touching.
She's right here. Alive. Yours.
"Breathe, love."
Series
- Part 5 of The Gaps in Between