Yeah, I tried staying there during the storm last year. You couldn't pay me to get snowed in with all those people again.
[ Claustrophobic is a good word for it, but that's not really the words that come sifting into her head, making her rub at her temple like there's some way to mitigate the itch of them. ]
I'm at the cabin where Kate Marsh lives with John Irving and Edward Little. You know them?
[ She wouldn't be surprised. Most people here know Kate and Little, even if they haven't gotten too acquainted with Irving, yet.
A different name flits through her head — Vasya. It's not one she knows, but everything that comes connected to it is all too familiar, blending into her own. It's not like she wants to leave Little, it's not him that's the problem. It's her, it's always her, she's always the problem and the thing is she's got no reason to think she won't break this one good thing, this one good man, like she's broken everything and everyone else in her life, except Waverly.
(Always, always except Waverly. She's the only possible exception. And maybe someone might say Edward could be an exception, too, that just because her hands are bad at holding something delicate and precious without shattering it doesn't mean she'll shatter this.
To that person, she would say: but you don't know me.)
Even now, she's torn: wanting distance and simultaneously wanting him in line of sight, within arm's reach, at all times. This is all too new, it's too fragile, she wants it too much... what the hell is she thinking? ]
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[ Claustrophobic is a good word for it, but that's not really the words that come sifting into her head, making her rub at her temple like there's some way to mitigate the itch of them. ]
I'm at the cabin where Kate Marsh lives with John Irving and Edward Little. You know them?
[ She wouldn't be surprised. Most people here know Kate and Little, even if they haven't gotten too acquainted with Irving, yet.
A different name flits through her head — Vasya. It's not one she knows, but everything that comes connected to it is all too familiar, blending into her own. It's not like she wants to leave Little, it's not him that's the problem. It's her, it's always her, she's always the problem and the thing is she's got no reason to think she won't break this one good thing, this one good man, like she's broken everything and everyone else in her life, except Waverly.
(Always, always except Waverly. She's the only possible exception. And maybe someone might say Edward could be an exception, too, that just because her hands are bad at holding something delicate and precious without shattering it doesn't mean she'll shatter this.
To that person, she would say: but you don't know me.)
Even now, she's torn: wanting distance and simultaneously wanting him in line of sight, within arm's reach, at all times. This is all too new, it's too fragile, she wants it too much... what the hell is she thinking? ]