Lupo

Chapter Twenty-One (Part 1): Hatred darkens

Hi all.

Happy Friday!!

So I've done a thing again and split chapter 21 into 2 parts.

I don't think this chapter is particularly long or anything, but I'm struggling to finish the second half, and I thought I might as well publish this part now - it might inspire me/help to drag me out of my horrific writer's block.

As always, it's unedited, and I don't seem to be able to translate Darcie's trauma in quite the way I picture in my head, but it's ok. First drafts are always - and meant to be - imperfect! :D 

So without further ado - Part 1 of Chapter 21 :D

(C)Copyright SJCLewis2020

--------------------------------------

Bash returned his attention to Darcie, his expression unfathomable. She sobbed openly but avoided his gaze, staring instead at the tell-tale spray of blood across his shirt and suit trousers, and at the metal tags just visible beneath his open collar. 

Blood.

"Hey..." he began softly, and Darcie looked quickly away from him, burning shame beginning to prickle across her face and neck. "Lets..."

His voice was so gentle, full of concern.  This was enough to effectively cut through her panic and bring her back to herself, and she shook herself crossly. Self-possession returning, she took a few deliberate-yet-shaky gulps of air and forced back the hysterics.

"I'll need clothes..." she squeaked, cutting across him, her voice unnaturally high. "If I'm coming with you."

"We can get you some," he murmured, crossing the room in three strides and holding out his hand to her. "We can give you whatever basics you need. But if there was anything... special you need to bring..?"

He trailed off as Darcie attempted to stand, ignoring the hand he'd offered. Her resolution was hardening and the awkwardness at her vulnerability was beginning to set in. She straightened resolutely, still trembling, and her knees immediately buckled beneath her. Bash caught her by the elbows and steadied her, allowing her to wriggle free only when she'd stopped swaying on her feet. 

In spite of her shock, Darcie could feel her face heating with embarrassment. She stumbled towards the bed, determinately avoiding looking directly at the duvet on the floor, and seized her laptop and book bag from where she'd flung them earlier that day. Bash was right behind her and immediately relieved her of both, pressing upon her a thick coat he'd grabbed from a chair.

"Put this on." he murmured, and Darcie wordlessly pulled it over herself without question. "It's cold out there."

She hadn't needed a coat under her gin jacket, but now...She took stock of herself as Bash began to race around her room, snatching up things at random and stuffing them hastily into her bookbag. Her eyes were still damp, though her sobs had subsided, but the feelings of terror and hopelessness had dissipated to near- nothing; The very core of herself felt nearly frozen to a heavy, aching, unfathomable mass. As soon as this realisation hit, she began to shiver violently.

Folding her arms across herself and hunching her shoulders - as if it were possible to disappear entirely into her coat -she turned expectantly to face the bedroom door. Bash, who had crossed the room to her pinboard and was examining the photos there, shook his head. "Not out there." he said, nodding back towards the window. "We'll have to go out this way."

Casting his gaze around her room again he re-crossed it, snatched up something from her bed and stuffed it into an inside pocket of his jacket. Unable to care that he seemed to be pulling apart her bedroom, Darcie retreated without a word and peered out of the window at the deserted patio below. It was much too high to jump. She was just about to say so when Bash appeared abruptly at her elbow and his sudden proximity caused her stomach to lurch.