#GNAWING BITING CHEWING ON THIS DELICIOUS BONE TOSSED TO ME

[extrahorribledynne]

literally dont care abt anything else missing connections was 22 minutes of tfp starscream related catharsis in an entirely different show

[remmushound]

Turtle tots short - Jaws of Raph

Splinter growled under his breath when picking up the newspaper showed no words, but instead a paper torn to shreds and what remained of it soiled with slobber. He dropped the wad to the floor with a wet smack and wandered up, slowly resigning himself to the fact that he wouldn’t be reading the paper then or any time soon if this pattern kept up.

He wandered over to his recliner and sat down, but immediately jumped up at a sharp prod. Turning to look revealed several bites torn into the cushion, springs poking through and some of them gnawed on as well. Splinter almost wanted to scream.

“Red! What have I told you about chewing on my chair?”

Splinter had just managed to repair the damage from Raphael’s last bout of chewing, and right now he felt he didn't have the mental capacity to do anything more than just place a pillow over the springs and say he’d get to fixing it later. Then he went off in search of the perpetrator.

“Red!”

Raphael has his entire mouth latched around the corner of the kitchen table, chewing grooves into the wood and tracing his teeth along the marks. He stopped chewing momentarily to look up at Splinter as he entered, his tongue still flicking absently as he stared at his father.

For a second, Splinter’s expression was one of absolute awe and adoration of the adorable toddler, but then he quickly dismissed the feeling.

“Red, take your mouth off of that table now!”

Raphael didn't move, starting to chew slowly again with a soft whine.

“Five. Four…”

Raphael continued chewing until Splinter got down to one, and then he finally let go of the table. He started to rub his cheek almost immediately with a sad look, sticking out his bottom lip. Splinter sighed and shook his head slowly as he approached Raphael; he didn't even to kneel down since the four year old was already as big as he was!

“Raphael, what have I told you about chewing on things?”

“Not to do it…” Raphael muttered softly as he hung his head, still rubbing his cheek as he stifled tears.

“Oh, don’t cry Red…” Splinter gently swiped his finger over his sons eyes to dismiss any tears before they could fall.

“Did you see your chair yet?” Raphael smiled shyly and twisted his foot into the floor.

Splinter laughed. “Yes, I saw the chair.”

“Did you see the newspaper?”

“Yes, I saw the newspaper.”

“Did you see your bed?”

Splinter blinked slowly. “What happened to my bed Raphael?”

Raphael giggled and hid his face in his hands as his only response.

“Oh nooo…”

***

Splinter always followed the same route when he went to the surface to scavenge. A quick route that took him three hours to traverse. Places where he knew old food would be getting tossed out at the end of the working shift and he would go through the dumpsters to collect said food to feed his family. But this night was different. Once he had gone through the normal collection of dumpsters, he found his feet naturally guiding him on a long detour until he found just the store he was looking for.

***

“Raphael. Raphael— wake up!”

Raphael groaned as he stirred from his deep sleep, blinking heavy eyes to look up at the blurry form of his father. He opened his mouth in a wide yawn and stretched out his body like a cat might.

“Dad?” He swiped his tongue over his lips, “It’s early…”

“I know.” Splinter pet his son's head fondly, “And you can go back to sleep soon, I just have a surprise I want to give you first.”

“A surprise…?”

Splinter heaved Raphael out of the bed, grunting at the dense weight of the mutant as he carried Raphael into the living area and plopped him onto the carpet. Raphael was more awake now, sitting up and looking around curiously for the surprise his father promised.

“Do my brothers get presents too?”

“No. This is a very special present just for you, my son.” Splinter started to root through his trash bag full of the night's finds.

“Is it food?” Raphael asked hopefully.

“No. You know you don’t eat until eight.”

Raphael huffed and crossed his arms stubbornly. “I’m hungry now.”

“You’re always hungry.” Splinter finally found the gift and pulled it out of the bag, placing it in front of his eldest son.

Raphael gave a curious squeak as he leaned down to sniff at the packaged bone that was offered to him. It was big-- almost as big as his plastron, and upon lifting it he found himself straining with the weight.

“It’s heavy!” Raphael giggled.

Splinter carefully undid the plastic by dragging his claw across it and slowly peeling it off.

“Uh… why you get me bone?” Raphael tilted his head slightly.

Splinter laughed and pushed the bone to Raphael’s maw and into his mouth.Raphael yelped at first, but then his eyes drooped as he started to chew on the hard and frankly delicious surface. He collapsed in an instant onto his plastron, tucking his arms under his chin to support his head as he slowly soothed himself to sleep with the motion of his chewing.

[friendsdontleave]

Susie Scene #14

Before and after Ch 13 (48-60 hours past Scene 12)

Summary: Susie reaches the end of her rope.

[[48 hours]]

She’s weak, tired, cold, and hungry. She doesn’t know when she started shivering or why she can’t stop. None of this helps her get any sleep, and she’s resorted to mocking the flowers, who mock her right back.

“Stupid, dumbass flowers not worth a damn. Useless shit. People say you’re romantic or some shit but you’re only ever in stories where people die or are trapped and hopeless.”

Trapped and hopeless. Trapp an opeless. Trap-opeles and trand hopetrap-ndlesstr-ope-and.

She flails uselessly onto her back. 

If she could send an echo flower with one message, what would she say? Who would she hope picked it up? More importantly who would care?

Her stomach growls and then she growls too. Fucking Ralsei. She curls to the side and hits her fist against the ground repetitively to have something to do.

It doesn’t take away the gnawing in her stomach, but it’s a small distraction. She must have grown unaccustomed to the sensation since Ralsei started feeding her regularly. Now it hits like a truck, here to punish her for ever dreaming she could escape it. 

She closes her eyes and all she sees are taunting meals, a pile of unguarded ham sandwiches lined up on a tray, or hot wings or ribs slathered in sauce. She imagines tearing it apart from the bone by her teeth. She thinks of a tender steak, oozing with flavor with each bite. A side of crisp vegetables swimming in garlic butter, and fresh bread that would crack under her touch. 

She inhales to take in more of her imaginary banquet. There’s a distinct pasta smell to pair with the garlic. It’s dripping in cheese, tomato, basil. She mentally samples it and its textures. Her mouth waters. She can smell it so vividly. She chews at her lip and opens her eyes. She really can smell it.

She rushes to the bars, pressing her head as close as she can to the scent. It only grows stronger with the echo of footsteps across the hall, and soon the source comes into view.

Ralsei settles outside her cell with a plate of food: lasagna, vegetables, and a bread roll. It all looks home made and warm.

“Hello again, Susie. I see you’ve calmed down some.” The flowers murmur at his presence and her calm very quickly drops. She stares intently at the meal.

“I hope you don’t mind I brought some dinner along. It shouldn’t bother you much since you’re used to skipping meals.”

She huffs a sound very similar to a dragon breathing smoke.

He takes a bite of one of the vegetables. There’s a good assortment of colors, vibrant reds and orange, green, purple, something white. Only some of the shapes are familiar but they all look delicious, some squish under his fork while others provide a solid crunch. The lasagna stretches with strings of cheese just as she’d imagined, revealing layers of color and flavor.

“Give me some,” she demands.

“Huh?” he looks up at her. “But, this is my food. You don’t like taking food from me, remember?”

“I’ve done it before. Give it to me.”

He holds the plate as if considering. “I don’t think you’ve calmed down enough for that. How do I know you won’t just make a big mess like that one time?” He cracks open the bread and the aroma spills out all the more clearly.

“Cause I’m hungry, give me the fucking food.”

“You were hungry that time too.”

“I won’t make a fucking mess, okay? You want me to pinkie swear?”

He sets the plate down on his seat and kneels a safe distance in front of Susie. “If you’re so hungry, I could feed you something while you rest.”

“I can feed myself just fine.”

“I can try my lullaby again.”

“I don’t need your fucking lullaby.”

“Why didn’t it work, by the way?”

“Didn’t what?”

“The lullaby, it stopped working.”

“Oh.” She chuckles as she remembers the trick she’d pulled. “It’s cause I plugged my ears, dumbass.” 

She digs a finger into each side and displays the food proudly, before licking it off with a satisfied grin. It tastes as gross as you’d expect. Then she’s hit with the full volume of the echo flowers. Were they that loud before?

Ralsei has a smile of his own. It’s unnerving. “That was so clever of you. I’ll have to be even more careful.” He delivers it like a compliment but Susie gets the feeling that she’s messed up. Her brain is being foggy on the details though.

“Well I’m glad it still works then. Though we can test that if you’d like.”

“No.” She knows she doesn’t like that. She’s fine without sleep, probably. “I want food.” She looks right through him and stares at the unfinished meal like a begging dog.

“Oh, no, I definitely can’t trust you with that. I’ll have to feed you the next time you’re asleep.” He pauses, “But we’re taking a break from the lullaby right now, so maybe another time.” He stands up.

“Where are you going?”

“I have stuff to do upstairs. You’ll be fine. I’ll be back soon.”

“You can’t just leave. Give me some food. You want me to starve down here?” She shouts louder to reach him as he walks away, until the echoes become too loud for her ears. She has the urge to throw something at them but nothing left to toss. 

The plate of food still sits just outside her cell, taunting her with its smells. She tries to reach it on her own, manically swiping the air in vain, then sets her head against the bar and stares.

She blinks and shudders, finding herself on the floor. There’s a dull pounding in the back of her head, and a loud buzzing she can’t shake. It takes a minute to realize it’s coming from the flowers. 

Her stomach gurgles and she stares up at the ceiling. She stays there and for a long while she doesn’t feel at all. The pain and the hunger are so constant, so encompassing that she can barely differentiate it from herself. It’s just the feeling of existence, background static.

She stares. Maybe she’s waiting, waiting for something, waiting for sleep, waiting for Ralsei. She doesn’t know. There’s no purpose in her actions. There’s no action at all.

Maybe she will fade away like this. Maybe she’s already gone. Maybe she was never here. She’s not here now. She wants to believe she’s not here now. But she is, and she can’t stop being here.

She stares and she blinks. Sometimes her eyes stay closed longer than others, but never long enough.

[[Ch 13 break- 60 hours]]

Her eyes are closed when the world gets louder. She’s on her side now and her brain tries to fill in an image to match the sound. She opens her eyes to help. 

There’s the bars, the flowers, and Ralsei. She yawns. He’s saying something. She rubs the sleep from her eyes but her arm is slow and heavy. She doesn’t bother sitting up or turning her head to face him.

“Hello? Ah sorry to interrupt you. I just came to check in. Are you doing alright?” The edges of his words are fuzzy at first but she focuses slowly as if tuning in to a radio channel. 

Even if she hears the words, it takes another few seconds to process them, and then to decide a proper reaction. She opts for the easiest route which is to not react.

“Susie?”

She groans and turns away from the noises.

“You must be incredibly tired.”

Her silent back is response enough.

“Would you like to sleep?”

She gives a mutter of confirmation.

“I can help.”

“Hmm?”

“I can help you fall asleep. Would you like that?”

She’s quiet. He sits and waits.

She sits up and faces him wearily. “What?” she croaks.

“Would you like to sleep?” He repeats.

She tentatively responds, “Yes…”

“Would you like my help?”

There’s a pause inside her. There’s something about that which sounds bad. She can’t remember why. But she wants to sleep. She scans her brain just to be sure, then nods.

“You don’t like my lullaby, though.”

She stares. Oh, that’s right. His lullaby is bad. His lullaby means punishment. It means a lack of agency. But this is already punishment, and she doesn’t have agency. She tried to get it but she never managed, and it always hurt to try. She’s tired of trying. She’s tired of hurting. She’s just tired.

“I want to sleep.”

Now it’s his turn to stare. He sits as though expecting something.

She rocks on her hands until it crosses her to try again. “Would you put me to sleep?” then after a beat, “Please?”

He smiles, “Of course.” 

He starts a tune and there’s no resistance at all as her eyes fall under their own weight.

[rwhalzili-a]

     Lips twist CRUELLY, steps echoing through the empty halls, doorways with no doors lining each side every ten feet or so. The hallway is wide and the ceilings tower above, doorways wide enough to fit something LARGE. Each step is heavy against the space, not another sound to shatter the silence. The cape trails after his body, swaying with each movement as he enters the room at the end.       Muffled cries escape the figure on the floor, a gag covering his mouth and hands tied behind his back, “So sorry to keep you alone for so long. . .” The monster moves closer, taking a knee to get to the tied up one’s height. His skin is pristine mostly, not a single scratch or bit of blood covering the pale skin but a few bruises. Such a pretty little thing. Such a SWEET little human, so innocent; drawn in by the charm and the nice compliments of the shadow. A charming man from Egypt, acting as if he wanted to meet somebody to help him get used to the area. He knows this area; this is HIS TERRITORY.      It’s so easy to trick humans, to play with their emotions and figure out what they want. This poor little one. He was so shy, so innocent--never dated before, never really got to know somebody so INTIMATELY. Well, he never got the intimate part beyond some touches.      Ignorant mortal, trusting him so much even if they had been “friends” for a few weeks. Get enough trust to lure the human in, then STRIKE. It was easy to take him down, such a weak little thing compared to the beast of a man. It was simple to overpower him, to pin him down and start taking away that vital oxygen from the lungs.      Too bad he had to get rough--broke one of those fragile bones.      Fingers run along the edge of the male’s cheek, a bruise still strong on it, “Tsk. . . you shouldn’t have pushed me that far little one. So unfortunate to see that beautiful skin so darkened. . .” A pristine prize dirtied. He would have kept him around longer if not for that. Why keep something that is BROKEN?      Marik stares for a few moments longer, something unsettling dancing in the abyssal eyes, “I could have kept you around for a while longer. . . spoiled you and kept you safe. But then you had to go and break my nose.” The pain still ebbs in and out--something PLEASURABLE despite the annoyance of it happening, “No matter if I enjoyed that, I don’t like being injured. . .” He leans in, his touch shifting to glide over the exposed bone of the male’s leg. He never did set that back in place. Oh well. He pushes the other’s body back, pinning him down with one hand on his chest, “Such a beautiful little mortal. . .~”       He stares for a few moments longer before tracing his fingers over the bone again. A few more strokes are given before the digits slip into the open wound. The squirms are wonderful, hearing the muffled sounds seep out from beneath the gag. They plunge in deeper, gliding across flesh and bone, widening the wound, “Such a waste. . .” The monster of a man is in a trance-like state, violet eyes half-lidded as he stares at the exposed flesh. When the fingers stop, nails press into the flesh, beginning to tear through, “Such a sweet little thing.”      In a sudden yank, a chunk of flesh is torn out, the loud scream hardly CONTAINED with the gag. Oh. . . his eyes SNAP to meet the blue ones, “I should let you talk. . . see what you have to say for yourself.” What was this one’s name? He can’t recall anymore. Doesn’t matter anyway, he’ll be dead come morning--or even BEFORE.      When the gag is removed, the male starts screaming his head off, crying out in pain and trying a pathetic attempt to get help. Marik sneers, his hand shifting to grab hold of the neck, moving to straddle the poor mortal, “Now now. . . stop screaming for help, nobody will hear you and it’s just IRRITATING! If you don’t stop--” He pauses, tightening his grip on the throat when the human doesn’t stop screaming--getting him to quiet down with the vital oxygen being cut off, “--I will make you silent. . .” He would be silent anyways.      His head tilts, the moment he releases the grip, the screaming starts again, “Tch. . . how sad.” The hands move, the one free of holding something grabbing hold of the other’s chin, the mouth still open from the escaping screams, “SHUT UP!” He snarls before shoving the piece of flesh into the male’s mouth.       A bloody hand presses over the mouth, silencing the screams and covering the nose, “Now be a good boy. . . and swallow. I know you’re inexperienced with this all, but when somebody tells you to swallow. . .” the monster leans forward, his nose nearly touching the other’s, “You swallow. And don’t forget to chew, that’s not going to go down easily unless you want the challenge.” The squirming body beneath him is intoxicating. It brings such SICK desires through his twisted mind.      “Have you still not swallowed?” He hisses, staring down at the one beneath him, “Wretched thing.” The affection for this one is slowly fading away, the anger replacing it, “Can’t even follow directions.” Sharp teeth are bared, the scared screams rising from the covered mouth, “If you don’t play nice again, I’m just going to have to end our time together early.” Would this one rather suffocate than eat the flesh? Well, guess some just don’t like the taste.      The shadow huffs, moving his hand away when the other looks as if he’s about to pass out, “How DISAPPOINTING.” He moves as if to get off and slink away, yet he doesn’t.      The shift is SUDDEN, from eyes half-lidded to his head thrown back as a maniacal cackle echoes painfully loud through the room, “WELL THEN!” His voice booms, attention whipping back down at the male.       Eyes are wide, the irises constricted to small points. What can be seen is a cruel amusement, anticipation for what will happen next, “I’ll just skip the formalities!” His hand moves down, grabbing hold of the exposed bone, “I’ll take what is mine for dealing with this DISAPPOINTMENT!” There’s sadistic glee coating his words, moments before the bone is YANKED out from the body with a sickening tear. Such a beautiful sound, such EUPHORIC struggles beneath him and the music of the screams in agony. It EXCITES him, brings shudders of pleasure throughout his body. Such a beautiful mortal.      The bone is lifted, his tongue trailing slowly across the surface to remove blood. Bits of flesh still clings to it, quickly removed with ravenous bites--all in front of the owner of said bone’s face.      When it’s cleaned, the part is dangled above his head, “If you played nice this would still be in your body darling. . .~” It’s tossed to the side, something that will be gnawed on later. Marik presses closer, his chest flush against the victim’s, “Want to say something?~ No matter what it won’t save you.”     “F. . . fuck you.”      “Tsk, too late for that,” Marik rolls his eyes, deciding instead to INTIMIDATE the little mortal some more. His mouth slowly opens, showing every sharp tooth from the back to the front and all the way back. Strings of saliva thin out as bits drop onto the mortal’s face. Oh, he is drooling to taste this one’s flesh.      With the beautiful scream of terror, he moves back to trace a bloody hand along the exposed chest, “You spoiled that part long ago.” His attention is torn away from the chest when he feels something wet. Did. . . did this wretch just spit on him?!      He glares further, lips curling into a sneer to expose every sharp tooth that lines his mouth, “You little--” another time this wretch spits on him. Well, somebody got guts. Not for long. . .      Nails dig into the chest, piercing through the skin quickly, diving in through flesh, “PATHETIC WRETCH! HOW DARE YOU SPIT ON A GOD!” All rationality is gone, simply RAGE remains. There’s no holding back, no stopping the hunger for SATISFACTION. Nails tear and shred, pulling apart flesh and muscle. Strips are pulled away, exposing the ribs and continuing further. Simple gurgles begin to replace the screams, but the shadow doesn’t care. The shadows will keep him alive for longer than his body normally would.       He pulls back his hands, moments later teeth tear into the flesh remaining on the chest. In quick VORACIOUS bites, the flesh is torn from the bone and swallowed down with little chance to chew it. It’s such SWEET flesh, getting the frenzy to grow STRONGER. More. He needs to consume more.      More and more flesh is torn out and swallowed, little time taken to savor it. Ribs are snapped, broken and discarded for the moment as obstacles to what is truly desired. The organs are such DELICIOUS things. Fingers move slowly, slipping between lungs to reach for his favorite one. There’s no reason to keep this one alive anymore. He has served his purpose.      When fingers trace along the frantically beating heart, the sadistic pleasure peaks. Such fear can be told by the rhythm of the heart. Poor thing is terrified he can’t even find his voice to scream or whimper.       “Such a delicious little one you are. . .” Marik purrs, moving so his face hovers above the other’s, bits of the male’s own blood dripping onto his face, “Shall I keep your heart in, let you feel the bliss of being fucked before it stops?” He pauses to think for a moment, “No. . . I won’t do that--I’ll do that later if I feel like it~” His fingers trace along the muscle beating in the other’s chest, “It’s been fun darling, but I think it’s time we see other people~” With that he gives a rough tug, TEARING arteries and veins from the precious organ, the blood SPILLING out all over, filling up the chest cavity.       He lifts the organ out, uncaring as the body is no longer moving beneath him; all that matters is the organ in his hand. Such a healthy heart too. It’s brought close to his nose, taking a deep breath to get the scent. So delicious, so wonderful it makes his mouth water. Such a memorable victim for his TASTE, his tongue running across the surface to pick up some of the blood on the surface.      No more control can be held, simply tearing into the heart to expose the interior. He wants the blood, to drink it all up before tearing off more chunks to swallow. In a few more bites the organ is downed, tongue trailing over his lips to take up the blood splattered on his lips. The rest of the blood trails down his chin, snaking down his neck to stain his tank top. Oh well, not like the stains can be seen on black cloth.      Leaning back, he observes his work, letting out a pleased purr. Hollow eyes stare wide at the ceiling, a look of TERROR plastered on the still face. The last thing this one ever saw was the twisted face of a MONSTER wearing the guise of a man, his own blood dripping from the sharp and cruel maw. Oh, but the little mortal will not be free.      Bloody fingers reach out, bits of flesh stuck beneath the claw-like nails. They play with a blue glow beginning to manifest, a small orb with small trails of mist, “Hmmn~ but we’re not done yet little one~” He leans in closer, fingers curling around the orb, “Now. . . I get to enjoy feeling you squirm inside me as I slowly devour your soul~ How about we call this our FIRST DATE?~”

[atlaswriting]

I can feel the anger swell inside me, real as any bone. Unsteady hands grip the tray of food; the wilting lettuce, less than vibrant vegetables and I hurl it toward the opposite wall. An overcooked egg bounces back like a ball and I stare at the nurse, teeth bared and ready to fight.

Crossing my arms over my chest, I set my jaw, “I would rather you leave me alone.” I watch as Nurse Ratched backs out of the room, green eyes staring daggers into me and when the door shuts behind her, I unclench my jaw and relax, “salope.” I hiss under my breath, allowing the pillows propping me up to pull me down further.

“Are you causing trouble with the nurses?” I hadn’t realized I closed my eyes until Simon’s calming voice stirs me awake. He glances down at the tray of food, “You haven’t eaten?”

“No. It’s disgusting—do you see what they’re feeding me? It’s no wonder I’m half dead.”

His muscles tense under his shirt and he sits down by my feet and grabs my hands, “I don’t think I’ve ever hopped on a plane so quickly,” he admits, “God, I got that call and I was—I couldn’t think. Anais wanted to be here, Elise but I couldn’t wait for her. I’m sorry, she’s going to try and fly in tomorrow.”

“Don’t worry about it,” I give his hands a squeeze but that takes more energy than my body is willing to provide so I doubt he felt anything. “Where is he?” I ask, alarm quickening my heart. “Where did he go?”

“He’s right here,” my mother pulls Jason into my room, her manicured nails resting gently on his shoulders, “I picked him up while you were asleep. You don’t want to sleep too long, Elise, that isn’t polite.”

Simon shifts uncomfortably to the other side of the bed, fingers curling into fists at his side and I can see it physically hurt him to hold back his words. When it becomes too much, he shakes his head, “That isn’t the him she was referring too, Cerise.”

He says her name like a poison—like each letter was dripping acid and burns his mouth just to hold it.

“This is the only boy that matters, Simon,” she spits back. Scooting Jason closer, when her hands finally release him he runs toward me and wraps his arms around me, planting small kisses all over my face. “Shouldn’t it only be family at this time?” My mother asks, tilting her head to the side, “I already discarded one nuisance, I can certainly get rid of another.”

I push Jason away just enough to snap at her, “He is family. If you have a problem with that, you can leave.”

Her lips, lined with what I could only assume was the blood of children, are pressed taut and she sits dramatically down into a chair. Calming down, Jason next to me, words spilling from a mouth that isn’t quite fast enough.

“Where’s Abram?”

“I think dad took him back to school,” Jason’s words stutter to a stop and a dejected look flashes over his face.

“Your dad?” I sit up again but both Jason and Simon gently urge me back onto the pillow, “Why didn’t anyone else take him?” I look at Jason, eyes wide and full of nightmares that weren’t just for sleeping, “Jason—I don’t think that’s a good idea.”

He’s quiet for a while, strong face pulled pensive before nodding. “You’re right. I should go make sure he’s okay, he’s probably exhausted.” Leaning down he kisses me and I want to melt into it, find a home in his mouth but I can’t. I kiss back, but when he walks away—I still have my breath. “I’ll call you tomorrow, okay?” I nod.

♡ ♡ ♡

A second nurse tries to bring another plate of food in, but like the first that ends up on the floor. The cleaning crew must hate me.

Simon’s hand curls around my wrist, fingers touching in a nauseating sight that shows just how barely human I am becoming. My anger begins to drip away. I relax against the bed and look toward him, hoping for any guidance. Instead, he leans down and presses his mouth to the top of my head, “When you’re ready, I’ll be here.”

From her chair, my mother clicks her tongue. “Elise, quit being dramatic.” She sighs, “Do you have any idea what I had to sacrifice to get here? I had to cancel on two models—who knows who will snatch them up now. Vous ne valez pas tous ces ennuis.”

“Cerise, that’s enough.”

Slowly bringing herself to a stand she shakes her head, “It’s enough when I say it’s enough. You don’t know her, this is just another grab at attention. Why don’t you be a good dead beat father and go back home to fuck my sister?”

Simon rounds the bed to step up to my mother, standing too close to be comfortable and I want to yell at him to stand back—he doesn’t know that her teeth are all knives and she’ll bite to bone.

I begin to press the nurse button over and over until one rushes in. “I’d like to be alone now.” I tell her, “I’m tired.”

“You heard her,” Cerise scoffs toward Simon, “she wants to be alone.”

He looks back at me in a silent apology and I look at the nurse. “Completely alone.” I beg.

“That means you too, ma’am.”

“I think not.” Cerise’s hands fall to her hip, “This is my daughter and I’m staying beside her.”

The nurse sighs, “We’ll gladly call security to assist you out of the room, if you’d like?”

I try not to smile, knowing I’ll pay for the little victory later but it was worth it. When the room falls quiet, I collapse against the bed and a wave of emotions washes over me.

How did I let it get this bad? I could survive the cool, boney grip of death and still I’m unable to tell the boy I am hopelessly in love with that my heart beats for him.

♡ ♡ ♡

When morning comes and the harsh reality settles into my bones like a storm, Simon is the first person I see. “Where’s mom?”

“She went to breakfast with the human Ken doll and I think after they have a meeting with your doctors.”

“Will I be involved in that meeting?”

Simon glances down—we both know the answer to that if Cerise is handling it. Before I can ask anything more the older nurse from yesterday intercepts the person delivering my breakfast and chooses to set it in front of me herself.

“Are we going to be easy today?”

“Probably not.”

I think I see a hint of a smile at my candor, but it quickly vanishes as she checks my vitals and types at the computer beside me bed. I lift the lid of the tray and recoil at the smell that greets me.

Simon stirs, glances at the food and despite trying to remain stoic, his face breaks, “That looks…”

“Like jail food.”

“I was going to say like play-doh, but let’s go with that.” The nurse steps back and watches as Simon lifts the spoon and dips it into the bowl of oatmeal, wiping the side against the bowl so the whole serving doesn’t get lifted. He takes a bite and nods, “Definitely tastes like jail food.” He dips the spoon back in and holds it out to me, “What do you think?”

Staring at the utensil and then at him, I reach for the fork and bring it to my lips. My teeth don’t want to work—they don’t want to chew and my mouth refuses to swallow. But I force it down. I continue until my stomach feels fuller than it has in a while and when I can’t eat anymore I look down at my tray, only noticing half the food was gone—surely it had to be more than that. Looking up at the nurse, I offer an apologetic look as she takes the tray from me.

“That was fantastic, Elise. I’ll be back in twenty minutes to check on you.” She and Simon share a look, he nods knowingly and I want to ask—but I already know what that look meant. I choose to ignore it and lean back.

Ten minutes pass and my stomach doesn’t feel any less heavy. The need to empty it rises up my spine and I stand, but Simon’s quick reflexes catch me. “I’m going to the bathroom.” I tell him and at this point, I no longer know if I’m telling the truth. He wants to offer to go with me, the words dance on his tongue but we both know that isn’t going to happen.

“I’ll stand by the door.”

When the familiar confines of the bathroom close in on me like a coffin welcoming me home, I crash to my knees by the toilet. Chest pressing in to the porcelain as I hope going through emotions would satiate the demon scratching into my back. My fingers dig at the porcelain as anger folds into me, compacting itself and growing like a flower made completely of thorns.

“Elise?” Simon’s voice comes from the other side of the door and I ignore it. Shaky hands rise to my mouth, but my fingers can’t dig deep enough, not without shaking and I suddenly find myself wishing I could swallow myself whole. I want to completely disappear into myself and ignoring the gnawing ache inside my chest.

Defeated, I stand with unsteady legs and wash my hands. I open the door and crawl into bed because if I couldn’t die, than I wanted to hide.

♡ ♡ ♡

“Quelle est cette odeur?” Cerise enters the room with Malachi at her heel. The hope to see Abram trailing behind is dashed when he closes the door behind him. “Expecting someone, Elise?” She asks. I shake my head. “Good girl.” She sits at the foot of my bed and from the corner of my eye, Simon’s body goes tense and he watches Malachi with untrusting eyes. “I hope you didn’t eat their wretched food, Elise. Why don’t I order us a salad from that restaurant we always go to when I have the misfortunate of being here,” she waits for a reaction and when she doesn’t get one, Cerise continues, “I’m kidding, mon cher. Lighten up! Doesn’t that sound delicious? And healthy.”

“She needs more than that, Cerise,” Simon forces out, “A few vegetables isn’t going to make her better.”

“I don’t think she was talking to you.” Malachi says. Both Simon and I share a look followed by a breathy laugh—does Malachi even know who he is? He would check him into being a decent person.

Rolling her eyes, Cerise tosses her hair over her shoulders, “I thought I told them to get rid of you? Oh, whatever. I don’t really care. We’ll be leaving in two days anyway.”

“Leaving? Why?”

“You’re not sick, mon cher. This was just a big misunderstanding—,”

“Misunderstanding?” Simon is standing now, fingers clench and unclench, “Cerise this is no misunderstanding—this is quite literally, life and death.”

Cerise ignores him, her hand caressing my cheek. She keeps her eyes on me and continues, “I’ve spoken with your doctors. They wanted you to enroll in a treatment facility but I told them no. No daughter of mine would go to some group home. You’ll come away with even more terrible ways to torture me. So I told them that I knew the best doctors and I know what kind of help you need. You aren’t sick, Elise. We both know that.” She whispers against my forehead before pressing her cool lips against my skin, “Now, let’s not continue to make things into a bigger deal than they need to be. Oui?”

I look at Simon and then at her. Cerise is nothing if not persistent. My head moves up and down mechanically, “Oui.” I reply.

♡ ♡ ♡

Four days I’m back and Middlebury and I’ve refused to get out of bed. A nurse brings my food to watch me eat and checks back every twenty minutes to make sure that I haven’t puked myself to nothing.

My energy creeps back into me quicker than I thought it would and I can almost focus on the schoolwork I fell behind on.

After dinner a knock on me door irritates me immediately, “I’m not puking. Go away!” I shout, looking back down at the textbook in my lap. I’ve still not been cleared for classes, but the work list continues to grow. Another knock sounds and I push my textbook off my lap and open the door, “I said I’m not—Abram?”

His lips is busted but he gives me no chance to acknowledge it before he wraps his arms around me and pushes out bodies further into the room, closing my door behind him with his foot. He’s quiet and his arms grow tighter. He pulls away and cups my face with his hands, thumb moving over my bottom lip. Like a bottle, the longer he stares at me with those haunting eyes, the more I’m pulled out to sea. “God,” he says, “I’ve missed you—I could hardly breathe. I texted Simon for updates—your mom wouldn’t let me visit.”

“I know.” I touch the cut on his lip, “is this because of me?” I ask. He looks away and I detach my body from his. Words I don’t want to say bubble in my throat and spew out of my mouth without regard, “I can’t keep doing this to you, Abram. This is happening because of me.” I sigh and he tries to speak but I cut him off with a wave of my hand, “Every since I came into your life, like a wrecking ball, it’s all gone to shit.”

Running my hands through my hair, I pull back more hair than is settling and shake them away from my hands, “I’m not going to get better. I’m not going to be someone that is worth you. I won’t ever hold your heart with careful hands because that isn’t who I am.” Choking back the tears, I step further from him as he moves closer, arm stretched toward me. I step back until I press myself against my desk and his body is so close I want to crawl out of my skin.

“I’m going to waste away to nothing. You need to grieve me now so you won’t later. You deserve to find someone and be happy,” I reach forward and touch his face, then allow my hand to fall like dead weight, “That someone isn’t me.”