"I would always choose you, don't you ever forget that."
"Why me?"
"Because I love you, god damnit!"
In which Blair Winchester comforts a broken hearted witch on a night she needed someone most and Lizzie Saltzman unravels herself for the sake of ne...
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there will never be another Lizzie
••••
BLAIR'S POV
I toss and turn, restless, distraught, not realising that four hours had passed in the brink of time, wasting away as I lay stiffly under the thickness of blankets. Every time my eyelids flutter shut, I can see, feel and hear all the voices in my head cry out in pure agony, and I was unable to push them away.
The sun has began creeping through the slightly drawn back curtains and I wonder what the time is, how many hours of sleep I wasted just staring off into the oblivion. I roll onto my side and breathe out deeply, lifting my hand to my face and gazing at the bruises that haven't faded yet.
I wasn't healing like my body was wired to.
I brush my fingers over the bruise, kissing my teeth as a throbbing settles in at the contact of skin to skin. I sigh out and pull my weight out of bed, swaying on my feet for a couple seconds before I regain complete composure. I pick out some clothes and change into them quickly to work against the cold air that nipped at my skin hungrily.
Weird, my body also doesn't react against low temperatures. But there's a first time for everything.
I toss the clothes from last night into the laundry hamper and find myself staring into the full length mirror, waiting for something to change, but it wasn't possible. I still see a girl with stories concealed behind locked doors, trauma clawing at the inside walls to be set free. I am my own barrier.
I hear a knock at my door and tense my jaw, catching onto the scent of Josie's strong sweetness of perfume wafting through the air. She is practically drowning in the expensive fragrance. I pull the door open before she knocks twice and lean against the wall to peer at her. "Yeah?"
Josie crosses her hands, wringing them together in a nervous state. "Can we talk?" She asks, a certain softness pooling into her eyes that spelled out what intentions she seeks to discover.
But I don't think she'll find her answers here.
I don't blame Josie for anything that happened to me, nor do I blame anyone for that matter. But for obvious reasons, I was maintaining physical distance from Lizzie and I planned to keep it that way for awhile.
At least until I could look her in the eyes and not hear her cries for help, knowing I that made her fear her own life.
"Sure thing," I reply, letting her inside. Josie awkwardly (like usual) stiffens as she passes through the door, not knowing how to approach me after the past few days panned out.
