Truth Is

10. Church...Still

The time had come for their row to stand and shuffle their way into the alleyway, but Aria was still deep into, what Thomas could only assume she could have, a beautiful dream-scape. His haste to leave the pew only doubled as Claudia Grier began to turn, forcing him to act before Aria could fall under Her Almighty Gaze. He looped his arm through hers and pulled.

Aria felt like she had left her stomach on her seat when she was yanked up-right, with a little more effort than Thomas thought he would have to put forth. The blinding light once again made Aria squint in desperation to see, but she could only make out the shapes of what she assumed were people shuffling in-front of her. Her head was throbbing from the jarring transition from silent nightmare to the bustling voices of caroling parishioners.

She cursed under her breath, as the same arm that pulled her up was now scooting her along, like a parent to a distracted toddler. After she gained her composure the curses she spouted under her breath ceased, and if it wouldn't have made her vomit to do any kind of turning she would have thanked her savior.

Thomas was reluctant himself to get into the communion line. People shifted in mindlessly, two by two, as they moved forward; Sheep to their Shepherd. For a second he once again wanted to get as far away as he could, as fast as his body could take him. Luckily for both of their sakes, and Claudia's reputation in the gossip circle, Thomas was more concerned about Aria.

While the line shifted to and fro in mindless anticipation, Aria swayed. Her muscles remembering at the last second how to keep balance, wanting so desperately to lapse back into that awful sleep, and then remembered again on the other side. Her mind kept pulling her back in on itself, her eyes burned as she pushed ahead, blinking rapidly to register the images around her. She was assuredly awake, but something about her dream still felt real, she took the world around her as absolute fact, she knew she was in reality, but there was something lingering behind those walls. A tree, a mighty tree begging for her to prove her uselessness.

But, she pushed on, took the tasteless wafer that was now the Body of Christ on her tongue, and smelling the alcohol from where she stood, passed straight by the wine that was now His Blood. Her resolve was strong but her body finally gave way, back and shoulders lurching as her stomach tried to force what little contents out the way they came in. She held it in as she speed walked past her seat, out the vestibule (that would have given Father Eric his horrid flashbacks, had Thomas' imagination rang true) and into the bathroom where the world spun. She dry heaved a brown liquid, as if her body was in complete opposition to the theoretical cannibalism.

The Mass continued on without her. She could hear so over the speakers that were installed into the walls of the bathroom, just in case of emergencies like this. Father Eric's voice did nothing to sooth her pain, and was half drowned out by the sound of her dry-heaves.

In the name of The Father (Bueler), The Son (Bueler), and The Holy Spirit (Bueler)

His closing prayer was interrupted by the closing of the still open door that lay behind her. She didn't care who it was, and even if she did she wouldn't have been able to turn around to see who it was. Whoever-it-was held her Honey-Ginger hair aside, and off of the toilet, where it had looked brilliant in contrast against the porcelain. In one hand the savior held her Honey-Ginger hair, while his other rubbed her back, timidly at first, realizing it was the first time he had ever actually touched her, but then more sternly as he became accustomed to his role.

She finally had enough time between her stomach's violent spams to look up at whoever it had been. She was met with a pair of familiar gray eyes, looking as warm as the color gray possibly could. The dusty things stared back, not directly into Aria's gaze but at her face. A face that was doing it's best to smile, but failing miserably, with its sick green shade of pale and a chunky sheen on its lips from the expelling of innards. He didn't seem to mind. He cared for this girl. Why, he didn't know, but he did.

The seed had begun to grow; far from the brain, indeed.