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26 •••
"Why did you do that?"
You must have lost your mind. Lost what little you had of control and it's misconception and let it twist your morals- bend your emotions and desires and for what- "I don't know" you hit her. It is nothing like you. Doesn't feel like you- you do not get angry. You don't, yet you slapped her across the face like your father did you—
"What has gotten into you, Rosie?" She sits hurt and confused and still in tears because you are undoubtably worse than your father- put your mind over heart, lust over love, and disturbed demands over trust- oh god you even— "Well?"
You shake your head because you don't know what to say— too scared to admit it and you are hating yourself all over because she has all right to demand an answer from you.
Through your tearful eyes, it pains you to look at Jennie. She still longs for you to answer her- provide a logical explanation for how intractable you have become and how quick it was for you to be so out of control.
But you don't have any excuse, nor reasonable justification for forcing yourself down on her the way you did. You shake your head again and choke on your tears and a hapless sorry falls off your lips, only to be scoffed at by Jennie.
She tremors as she pulls herself off the floor— your instincts jump to your feet and rush to help her— "I'm fine" she crosses her arms and maneuvers to the couch, away from you.
Your legs buckle in place and your mind scrambles to say something- spit out what you can of your sincere apologies and guilt because silence interprets a thousand unspoken words to be miscommunicated. So just say anything damnit.
Stronger winds rattle the windows as night has loomed over in time. Jennie sits on the far end of the couch, seemingly in scattered thoughts as well.
You slip your jumper off and reach it out to Jennie.
She looks at it, and you for a brief moment, before refusing.
You insist, "You'll get cold"
"You will, too" she mutters.
Your eyes sting harsher. Even in your most underserving moments for her care, it is overwhelming "I-It's fine, Jen, just—"
Something short of a grumble escapes her lips, and she snatches the jumper from your hands to wrap around herself. It is an ounce of relief in the hundreds of pounds weighing you down.
You stammer to the door, "I-I'll go fetch you some water and- and would you want a valium?" you've caused for great distress on her and the least you could do is offer tranquility in a capsule.
"No, Rosie just—" Your steps fall short just before the door and you are frozen in place. Behind you, she releases a sigh of tension, then her tone softens, "Could you please just sit down" though firm in giving you no inclination to disobey.
