[ Noelle's shoulder's go limp. Her head hands. Her arms fold around her torso like a straitjacket. She digs her fingernails into the skin in her sides, right over long, red scars. The skin, so fragile from repeat trauma, breaks. At least she isn't covering her eyes anymore.
Should she have let this clone go free? It was going to hold her. She had given it hands to do just that. The only free touch Noelle has anymore comes from her clones. Everything else she has to pay for.
A memory bubbles up like bile. Noelle rests on an unfamiliar couch. She squirms once, then moans. She is covered in blankets, but it is still so cold. She doesn't know why it's so cold. Someone presses soft, gentle fingers against her skin. They murmur, in a soft and lovely voice, about a pulse. Noelle flinches all the same.
Of course. This is what she wanted. Noelle can't find it in herself to be grateful for the reminder.
The bulk of Noelle's monstrous half lurches forward. It is no longer accurate to say that it steps. Claws drag and scrape against the linoleum, like a soldier crawling on their belly. Tentacles slither. Hooves stomp. Hospital beds and IV drips crash against one another as Noelle lumbers over and through them.
The sun's out. Noelle's nails dig further in. What will it feel like, when the sun beats down on her skin? Will it burn?
Suddenly, Noelle wants the memory to come back. She wants to remember what it was like when Marissa used to touch her gently. But the thing inside her mind is silent once again.
Noelle passes through the double doors. She follows Krouse down the hall, hunched, so that her head doesn't scrape against the ceiling. ]
Is it going to feel good?
[ Mumbled, quiet, nearly slurred. Noelle can't touch anyone. She understands the reminder. But maybe - just maybe - she can hope that the sun is going to feel good. ]
cw: self-harm
Should she have let this clone go free? It was going to hold her. She had given it hands to do just that. The only free touch Noelle has anymore comes from her clones. Everything else she has to pay for.
A memory bubbles up like bile. Noelle rests on an unfamiliar couch. She squirms once, then moans. She is covered in blankets, but it is still so cold. She doesn't know why it's so cold. Someone presses soft, gentle fingers against her skin. They murmur, in a soft and lovely voice, about a pulse. Noelle flinches all the same.
Of course. This is what she wanted. Noelle can't find it in herself to be grateful for the reminder.
The bulk of Noelle's monstrous half lurches forward. It is no longer accurate to say that it steps. Claws drag and scrape against the linoleum, like a soldier crawling on their belly. Tentacles slither. Hooves stomp. Hospital beds and IV drips crash against one another as Noelle lumbers over and through them.
The sun's out. Noelle's nails dig further in. What will it feel like, when the sun beats down on her skin? Will it burn?
Suddenly, Noelle wants the memory to come back. She wants to remember what it was like when Marissa used to touch her gently. But the thing inside her mind is silent once again.
Noelle passes through the double doors. She follows Krouse down the hall, hunched, so that her head doesn't scrape against the ceiling. ]
Is it going to feel good?
[ Mumbled, quiet, nearly slurred. Noelle can't touch anyone. She understands the reminder. But maybe - just maybe - she can hope that the sun is going to feel good. ]