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[so_near_an_end]

[Timed to March 12, just after thisThough she was well aware that she had left their laundry in the washing machine, Cecilia did not stop to check on it after she left the kitchen. So disturbed by Sacharissa's appearance and the unpleasant memories of what Briony had done, Cecilia rushed through the corridors of the compound and then broke out to

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[iwillresume]

Robbie had run after Cecilia without giving her much of a head start, but he quickly slowed to a walk when the still-healing wound in his side began to trouble him. He knew she was headed for home, and even before he came in sight of the hut he heard the door slam.

He hesitated at the door, putting his palm flat against it. He too was still shaken by Sacharissa's appearance, but at the moment he was more concerned about Cecilia. Barging in on her without warning, though, was unthinkable. "Cecilia," he said quietly. "Are you in there?"

[so_near_an_end]

As the door shut with a resounding slam, Cecilia had thrown herself down upon their unmade bed, pressing her cheek hard against a pillow. It was a struggle to breathe, as her throat felt tightly constricted and there was a pain radiating nearly from her centre.

It was several long moments before she found herself able to answer Robbie's call. Not bothering to lift her head from the pillow, she thickly replied, "Yes," and then took up great fistfuls of sheets within her hands.

[iwillresume]

He did not immediately open the door and go to her. Instead, he rested his forehead against the frame, taking a deep breath. He wanted to reassure her, to take her in his arms and find that mutual reassurance that they both so desperately needed. But for a moment, he was held back by his insecurities, that were for so much of his life unknown to him.

Then he went to her, sitting on the edge of the bed and resting a hand lightly upon her back.

[so_near_an_end]

The mattress dipped slightly under Robbie's added weight. Though Cecilia knew she should have shifted, should have turned to him, she did not. She could not bear to look into his eyes and see old wounds gaping open again, for she already felt them plainly enough.

His hand was warm upon her back; she could feel a gentle heat radiating from his palm through the thin fabric of her dress. "It's almost worse that it isn't her," she heard herself say, though it all sounded so far away.