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 Posted: Tue Jan 05, 2016 1:11 pm
She knelt on the floor in front of the toilet and heaved into the porcelain bowl. Her hands were covered in partially dried blood, which left streaks on the bowl where she gripped it. Her stomach turned and a cold chill worked its way through her body. Her forehead was clammy, covered by a cold sweat. She looked small and pitiful curled up on the tile floor. The numbness was gone. In it's place came the horror.
When the nausea faded and she could move away from the toilet without fearing that she would be sick again, Paris rose to stumble toward the bathroom sink. She turned on the tap water. She did not wait for it to warm, but shoved her hands beneath the cold stream to scrub the blood off. She pumped soup into her hands, spread it around, and rinsed it off, then repeated the sequence twice. Even when the blood washed down the drain and her hands were clean, she still felt dirty. She'd never willingly had so much blood on her hands. Even with it gone she thought she saw it there still.
She looked at herself in the mirror and saw a pale face staring back at her. The skin of her face was streaked red with tears. Her eyes were bloodshot with purple shadows beneath. Her throat worked to swallow down the sickness. Her hair was a mess of curls around her face. In her mind she could still hear the Captain screaming. Now it brought her no sense of satisfaction—only fear.
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Posted: Tue Jan 05, 2016 5:22 pm
It was Paris’s turn to patrol that night. They took turns, of course. One would stay with Henry and Abigail, while the other took to the streets to fight youma and Negaverse and search for clues about how to fix a broken starseed.
Chris could never make himself go to sleep when he knew Paris was out. He wanted to trust her to be safe, but no one really knows how things would turn out. But that could be said about everything. No one really knows, but giving into that fear was like being afraid to live.
And so, he waited. Just when he was getting restless, he thought he heard noise from the floor below. Their home was large and insulated, so the fact that he heard anything at all was a bit surprising, but perhaps it helped that he was also waiting for Paris to come home.
After making sure the twins were still sleeping soundly in their cribs, Chris made his way down the hall and stairs to try and find where Paris was, and to make sure she wasn’t injured. So of course the sight of blood on the toilet seat when he gently pushed the bathroom door open after a quiet knock was more than enough to startle him.
“Paris! Are you hurt??” he asked in alarm, feeling the color drain from his face as he pushed his way farther into the bathroom.
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Posted: Fri Jan 15, 2016 2:11 pm
Paris had not gone to their room to clean herself up in the ensuite. She'd been quiet as she crept into the house, hoping she didn't alert Chris to her presence. One of the bathrooms on the floor below suited her need for privacy. She'd wanted to be alone, to come to terms with what she'd done before having to face Chris.
Unfortunately, it did not seem as if she'd been quiet enough.
She wiped her hands along her face to smear the tears away, but her nose was wet and sniffly and her eyes were still full. Paris looked at Chris in the mirror instead of facing him outright. She could see that he was concerned but knew that would change as soon as she told him what happened.
“I'm fine,” she said weakly.
She allowed him just enough time to look her over to ensure that she was not injured. Then she grabbed a wash cloth, wet it, and turned from him to go back to the toilet. She crouched down in front of it and began to scrub the blood away. She hoped, once it was gone, she could put this whole thing behind her.
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Posted: Sun Jan 24, 2016 11:02 am
He was only slightly relieved that it seemed as though Paris was uninjured. It was obvious that she was upset about something, and the blood… if not her blood, then whose was it?
“It’s okay, let me,” he said softly as he shrugged off his house robe so he could drape it over Paris’s shoulders, trying to gently pull her away from the toilet that she was trying to clean, and into his arms instead.
As much as he wanted to ask her what happened, he didn’t. She would tell him when she was ready. If she wanted to tell him. If she didn’t, then he would do what he could to support her. He just wished there was a way to still the horrible twisting of his stomach as he thought of what could have possibly happened that resulted in so much blood.
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Posted: Tue Jan 26, 2016 4:33 pm
Paris felt the house robe being draped over her shoulders, surrounding her with warmth and comfort. She almost struggled when Chris pulled her away from the toilet and into his arms. She wanted to wash the blood away, to get rid of the evidence, so that she could work on forgetting this had ever happened. She wanted it out of her head, or at least pushed back into the far reaches of her mind, so she could pretend the memory didn't exist.
But she didn't struggle. She let herself be pulled against Chris's chest. She dropped the wet and slightly blood-stained washcloth onto the floor and hid her face so he couldn't look into her eyes. She was afraid he would only be disappointed.
For a while she just cried. She put her arms around Chis and pressed her face into his chest. She took comfort from him being there even if she didn't feel like she deserved it. He was a solid, stable presence. She leaned against him heavily. She could barely keep herself upright.
“I'm sorry,” she eventually said. Her voice was thick with emotion. “I'm sorry. I don't know why I did it. I was just so angry, and... I just... all I could think about was the screaming and the pain. I just wanted it to stop. I want it to stop, but it won't go away.”
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Posted: Wed Jan 27, 2016 7:48 pm
He let her cry, frowning sadly as he held her in his arms and ran his fingers lightly through her hair. He made sure to hold her tight enough to not let her collapse should she lose her balance or ability to stand, but loose enough so that he wasn’t hurting her.
Whatever it was that happened, he wanted her to tell him when she was ready. He wanted her to trust him to be there for her. Chris knew there were things that happened from time to time that they disagreed with, but they would still always be there for each other. He shushed her softly, pressing kisses against the top of her hair.
“You’re home now. You’re safe,” he reminded her, hoping it would be enough to comfort her. Or at least calm her enough to settle down. There were things that they all regretted. He was no different. “It’s just us right now.”
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