Drabble: Something that Separates (Saw, Amanda/Lynn, R)
Title: Something that separates
Author: aphrodite_mine
Info: Saw, Amanda/Lynn, R. For midnight_united for the prompt.
Amanda Young dreams in black and white, but Dr. Denlon dreams in color.
It makes it harder for her to forget the blood.
The contrast of blood and flesh.
It's why she took those sleeping pills the first year of hospital internship. Not to dream of it, but for the hope not to.
Amanda will stay awake to see it, for the reminder.
Something that separates them. The color of the blood in their dreams.
--
It's surprisingly light in Lynn's hand. She thought it would be heavy, that she wouldn't want to yield the scalpel when she wasn't performing a surgery. She thought she wouldn't want to.
She does.
The blade is sharp, so light strokes are all she needs. One, two, three, she concentrates on the marks on soft skin. Thigh.
Amanda clutches the sheets and arches her hips. Clashes her teeth, moaning "More, damnit." And breathless "Fuck! Lynn!" when she gives her what she wants, counting four, five, swifter, deeper.
The scalpel shines and she licks it, tasting war.
She waits for Amanda to catch her breath, than holds the metal towards her, handle first. "Time for something new."
Author: aphrodite_mine
Info: Saw, Amanda/Lynn, R. For midnight_united for the prompt.
Amanda Young dreams in black and white, but Dr. Denlon dreams in color.
It makes it harder for her to forget the blood.
The contrast of blood and flesh.
It's why she took those sleeping pills the first year of hospital internship. Not to dream of it, but for the hope not to.
Amanda will stay awake to see it, for the reminder.
Something that separates them. The color of the blood in their dreams.
--
It's surprisingly light in Lynn's hand. She thought it would be heavy, that she wouldn't want to yield the scalpel when she wasn't performing a surgery. She thought she wouldn't want to.
She does.
The blade is sharp, so light strokes are all she needs. One, two, three, she concentrates on the marks on soft skin. Thigh.
Amanda clutches the sheets and arches her hips. Clashes her teeth, moaning "More, damnit." And breathless "Fuck! Lynn!" when she gives her what she wants, counting four, five, swifter, deeper.
The scalpel shines and she licks it, tasting war.
She waits for Amanda to catch her breath, than holds the metal towards her, handle first. "Time for something new."