This is a nightmare and all Clarisse needs to do to wake up is move. Twitch a finger, blink her eyes, take a breath, and the spell will break and she'll wake up and her heart will be pounding and she'll feel sick to her stomach but she'll be warm under her blanket and Ellie's back will be rising and falling slowly under her open hand.
It will. They both promised.
She is frozen, and maybe that's a good thing, because if she wasn't, she's not sure what would happen. Whatever is rising up in her chest is something awful and nameless and when it crests like a wave it might drown her, but at least she'll go quietly.
Clarisse looks at Abby and waits for her to say something that will fix this. Abby always knows what to say. She's rolled over in bed and given Clarisse words of comfort too many times to count, but now, when Clarisse needs her the most, she's quiet. Instead of hitting her to make her shut up, Clarisse wants to hit her to make her talk, to make her say something that will make sense of this. This nightmare.
It's Abby who moves first. She just reaches out and puts a hand on Clarisse's arm and squeezes. Clarisse can't feel it. The simplicity of it makes her think of Granitefell, the way they'd bumped knuckles and smiled even though they already knew they were dying, how they hadn't said anything out loud but she'd still felt it, known it.
She wonders if Abby is saying anything to her now, silently, with that hand on her arm, and she just can't hear it because of the screaming inside her own head.
"Abby?" she manages in a shaking voice, and can't say anything else.
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This is a nightmare and all Clarisse needs to do to wake up is move. Twitch a finger, blink her eyes, take a breath, and the spell will break and she'll wake up and her heart will be pounding and she'll feel sick to her stomach but she'll be warm under her blanket and Ellie's back will be rising and falling slowly under her open hand.
It will. They both promised.
She is frozen, and maybe that's a good thing, because if she wasn't, she's not sure what would happen. Whatever is rising up in her chest is something awful and nameless and when it crests like a wave it might drown her, but at least she'll go quietly.
Clarisse looks at Abby and waits for her to say something that will fix this. Abby always knows what to say. She's rolled over in bed and given Clarisse words of comfort too many times to count, but now, when Clarisse needs her the most, she's quiet. Instead of hitting her to make her shut up, Clarisse wants to hit her to make her talk, to make her say something that will make sense of this. This nightmare.
It's Abby who moves first. She just reaches out and puts a hand on Clarisse's arm and squeezes. Clarisse can't feel it. The simplicity of it makes her think of Granitefell, the way they'd bumped knuckles and smiled even though they already knew they were dying, how they hadn't said anything out loud but she'd still felt it, known it.
She wonders if Abby is saying anything to her now, silently, with that hand on her arm, and she just can't hear it because of the screaming inside her own head.
"Abby?" she manages in a shaking voice, and can't say anything else.