a partidge in a pear tree
[The PCD flicks on, helpfully, to reveal Violet waking up slowly. The fog from earlier has dissipated, but her body feels icy cold. It’s the same as the shower; everything is cold, clammy, cloth sticking to her skin, teeth chattering. She can hear his voice in her ear, Don’t die on me, Violet, don’t die on me- and for a dizzy second she reaches for him.
Her hand hits brick. Her eyes blink open. She isn’t in her bathtub, she isn’t in her own bedroom, she isn’t even in her house. She’s soaking wet and cold because she’s waking up on a city street, in some kind of back alley, and because she’s been unconscious for long enough that the rain has soaked her to the skin.
She tries to sit up, and puts her head between her knees, dizzily, sure that this must be some sort of hallucination. Something. Anything. This can’t be happening.
When none of it fails to vanish, she drags herself upright, adjusts her sodden sweater, trying to just sit without toppling over, supporting herself on the brick. This doesn’t look like San Francisco, or Boston, or anywhere she’s ever been for that matter. Her skull is throbbing. She can't imagine trying to stand. Her voice cracks, when she calls out;
Hello?
[Silence answers her.]
Mom?
[Nothing.]
Anyone?
Tate?
Her hand hits brick. Her eyes blink open. She isn’t in her bathtub, she isn’t in her own bedroom, she isn’t even in her house. She’s soaking wet and cold because she’s waking up on a city street, in some kind of back alley, and because she’s been unconscious for long enough that the rain has soaked her to the skin.
She tries to sit up, and puts her head between her knees, dizzily, sure that this must be some sort of hallucination. Something. Anything. This can’t be happening.
When none of it fails to vanish, she drags herself upright, adjusts her sodden sweater, trying to just sit without toppling over, supporting herself on the brick. This doesn’t look like San Francisco, or Boston, or anywhere she’s ever been for that matter. Her skull is throbbing. She can't imagine trying to stand. Her voice cracks, when she calls out;
Hello?
[Silence answers her.]
Mom?
[Nothing.]
Anyone?
Tate?