𝙵𝙻𝙴𝚂𝙷 𝙰𝙽𝙳 𝙱𝙾𝙽𝙴 | 𝚃. 𝙾𝚃𝚃𝙾 𐂃

- Cristine & James -

Cristine stared through the night vision binoculars. Through the green colored view she saw the patrols behind the fences walk their routinely shifts. Cristine went to the old tower just outside the Ranch used as a sentry post. Away from the people to seclude herself for a bit and organize her thoughts. After a while Cristine walked balk towards the small crackling campfire. The heat source not as warm as earlier so she added some more wood and began to poke at it with a stick. The orangey yellow flame greedily licked at it's fuel and sparks of embers drifted upwards. Cristine's eyes quietly watched the spots dissolve before rubbing her arms gently with her palms until they become sensitive and suddenly lowered her head between her shoulders. Her back was bend over and she hugged herself within the comfort of the small heat in the middle of this uncanny chill. The anxiousness that gripped her heart, squeezed in a manner that constantly ached.

What was she supposed to make out of all this?

Sniffing, the moment she felt a droplet trickle down the corners of her eyes and brought a fisted sleeve to scrub it away until it left her face feeling raw. Cristine didn't want to make sense of her conversation with Jake or believe Joe's story. She wanted to ignore the worsening ticks of her father under pressure that were subtle at the start and became worse as time moved on. Cristine wanted to make sense of Troy's lethargy by remembering the moments the two of them didn't argue and worked so well. She wanted to disregard the feeling of her gut and rationale ignoring the signs that something was very wrong for a long time. Cristine wanted to overlook that the murder of the Trimbols had been distorted to fit a narrative. It was like a vice grip on her longs now and Cristine struggled to breath and she tried to regulate by clenching her fists together until it hurt. Until the pain was so intense she gasped and clarity returned.

The low engine hum slithered through her ears. Cristine didn't have the physical strength to look up or mentally care that she exuded this exhausted, grief-struck ambience. Under different circumstances, she would've separated her emotions to cushion herself from possible threats or people taking advantage of her... again. It was exhausting, but just when she thought she found her safe haven to trust it got crushed. Her emotions still raged from outburst in the infirmary with Dolores and now her thoughts spun over the worst possible scenario that involved her father. Cristine felt sick

"Cristine!" Her father's hasty voice rang so loudly in her ears, Cristine slipped her palms to cover them and block it out. The tension in her face and limbs grew again and her thoughts accelerated inside her head. Everything was too loud around her and the vice grip in her lungs tightened, breathing coming in quick intervals. It all threatened to spill from her brains, unable to think, make sense and do the basic bodily actions. She felt a pair of strong arms engulf her body, the familiar scent seeped into her being. "Shh... shh... it's alright Birdie, just breathe." Usually, her father's warmth and soft words would comfort her and she'd relaxed into his hold. Each time before parting, it would reset all her bad feelings.

But not this time.

Cristine eventually managed to catch her breath and slid her hands from her ears. Her father rocked them back and forth and Cristine listened to her father, listless gaze staring at the dirt, "everything will be alright." James his grip was soft and his words sounded so ironic in her ears.

"It won't." Cristine was unable to piece together how her father could look at himself, look at her, at Hailey, his family, and not feel sick with himself. Sick with actions. She often thought about the things she'd done and there would always be a soft voice inside her head that she tried to ignore. Sometimes it was good but most of the time bad and it scared her. Frightened her that every time she needed to cross a line she didn't want to again.

After freeing her hands, Cristine wrung herself from her father's embrace and pushed against his chest in the midst of comforting words that just sounded hollow to her. Cristine didn't immediately look at him, but she caught her breath first, eyes welling up. She gathered all the mental strength she could muster and finally looked at those concerned blue eyes.