[There's a cautious look to her eyes that softens when he speaks. The words come out of his mouth and-
For the first time ever, someone gets it. He didn't get to see out of windows either. He knew about the rooms with pure white walls that would made her wish she were back in that room of dying children. He understands hearing the words it helps and might even get take the medicine before nighttime. There's never been another child to commiserate with and the doctors were too focused on their goals to care about how one dying child felt about anything around her.
He absolutely gets it-right down to the worst part. It was undeniable how lonely she had been in that room. There's nothing worse than being seen as a something rather than a someone.
She looks him over-he's older. An adult. She wants to ask him if he had to take his medicine at night. If he was able to stop his racing heart with it or found another method to do so. If he could feel the hearts of people around him. If he worried about waking up in the morning. If he knows-
If there's a way for her to live too. It clings to her mind and she almost lets them tumble out.
Almost, but there's no sense in raising her spirits with false hope and whatever his answer maybe be, it won't be able to solve her problem.]
They're bad places. It's scary.
[No matter how much they were supposed to help. No matter how many blocks they tossed her way, which she extends a hand to reach for now, and stops short when realization hits she's not young anymore. It's not real. It's definitely not her life now.]
no subject
For the first time ever, someone gets it. He didn't get to see out of windows either. He knew about the rooms with pure white walls that would made her wish she were back in that room of dying children. He understands hearing the words it helps and might even get take the medicine before nighttime. There's never been another child to commiserate with and the doctors were too focused on their goals to care about how one dying child felt about anything around her.
He absolutely gets it-right down to the worst part. It was undeniable how lonely she had been in that room. There's nothing worse than being seen as a something rather than a someone.
She looks him over-he's older. An adult. She wants to ask him if he had to take his medicine at night. If he was able to stop his racing heart with it or found another method to do so. If he could feel the hearts of people around him. If he worried about waking up in the morning. If he knows-
If there's a way for her to live too. It clings to her mind and she almost lets them tumble out.
Almost, but there's no sense in raising her spirits with false hope and whatever his answer maybe be, it won't be able to solve her problem.]
They're bad places. It's scary.
[No matter how much they were supposed to help. No matter how many blocks they tossed her way, which she extends a hand to reach for now, and stops short when realization hits she's not young anymore. It's not real. It's definitely not her life now.]
Did they hurt you?