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The world is eerily quiet.

The sky is overcast, a gentle wind brushing against the dying plants. There is a taste of rain in the air. A sense of heaviness that comes with the increase in humidity, the taste growing stronger as the clouds crowd close together.

And with the rain comes the memories.

In your mind's eye, you can see his face mere inches away from yours. You remember the gazebo and the beautiful seascape the rain had turned the dry waking world around you. The shades of green and blue, and the shadows that played across his face as he looked at you. The droplets that adorned his hair, the way his shirt stuck to his skin, and how everything was so uncomfortable and unfamiliar. Yet at the same time, he was safe and welcoming. His hands fit perfectly in yours, his smile sent shivers down your spine, and his voice was as warm as the spring breeze. Beneath the gazebo you were safe from the rain, the cold, the world, and it was just you two in the midst of a seascape garden.

It was the happiest you felt since you had been broken to pieces.

And though you can feel the chill pushing against your clothes now, trying to make its home in your bones, you are surprisingly warm. Though the world is now made of blacks and whites, color barely managing to peek up from beneath the decay, it's hard to view it as anything other than beautiful. A serenity that one cannot find anywhere else besides their heart.

And above it all, it is quiet.

A quiet before a great storm.

"It isn't his fault."

At the sound of your mother's words, you look up from the plants you were watering, and slowly set the can down, turning away from the open window. Jocelynn gives you a look from the cot, the flowers decorating the shelves, desks, and walls almost drowning her in a colorful array of petals and stems. It's jarring against her pale translucent skin and her thin body, still fresh from the trauma of her attack. And yet, her green eyes sparkle as she smiles softly at you.

"I know you want to blame him, but this was out of his control."

You sigh as you turn back to the open window and close it tightly, chasing the chill away.

"I know." Jocelynn's gaze softens as you sit next to her. When you look up at her face as she takes your hand in her own, you already know what she's going to say. "It's not your fault either."

You want to believe her, you really do, but every time you look at her you can feel the weight in your chest; the guilt tearing you apart from the inside out.

"Not then, and especially not now."

When she says those words, you can almost feel your heart jump up to your throat, the memories of that night once more flooding back for the millionth time. And as the memories return so do the panic and tears. You swallow hard, trying to force everything away, and avoiding your mother's concerned gaze. But she knows what you're trying to keep hidden away, just as well as she knows that you aren't okay.

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