Raleigh Harper / Emily Watkins (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
callmeemily) wrote2014-06-22 11:16 pm
callmeemily) wrote2014-06-22 11:16 pm
Can I pay you tomorrow for recovery today? (Dated Monday, 9:45AM) TW: Mentions of Violence/Torture
Trigger Warning: This thread contains mentions and descriptions of violence and torture. If you have any questions, please don't hesitate to tweet @thestarsplay for clarification. Thanks!
--
In the end, she'd handled it herself.
Raleigh didn't have family, didn't have an emergency contact. She'd watched Levi be loaded onto the gurney, and she limped to follow him - but one of the EMTs sat her down and took one look at her, and she was on one as well. She's got no phone - and she doesn't know anyone's phone numbers off the back of her hand, so she goes alone.
Concussion, hairline fractures in her left wrist (her fault) and right cheekbone (not her fault), bruised ribs - bruises all over really, and the 7 inch long cut along the bottom of her foot, from her heel to her toes -- had stitches.
Which meant she had crutches.
She knew she had to be at the hospital to get the stitches, but what she didn't know - or didn't expect, really, was that they were expecting to keep her. They were expecting to keep her, and she couldn't do it. She couldn't, not and keep thinking of Les' words. Of Joseph's, of her own. She'd been through it, after she'd fallen into the basement of that rotted old house. Two days, she'd been down there, and half the people who visited her informed her that They didn't even know she was gone.
Raleigh can't live through that again.
That's why she checks herself out once it's all done, the stitches and the lectures and the questions. That's why she heads back into town - the clicking of the crutches something that's entirely old hat to her, given her leg - and she's thinking about tomorrow. About working, and she draws herself up short before she sits heavily on one of the little tables outside the coffeeshop, nevermind that she hasn't bought anything, that she looks like a wreck and that she's wearing scrubs for pants and a cheap flipflop on her good foot because the exceedingly nice nurse realised that they had to cut her jeans off of her, and she had no shoes - her hoodie had blood on the sleeve and the hem, oddly brown now, but she hasn't realised it.
She sits, and she can't help it as she starts to cry, her free hand still holding the crutches so they don't clatter onto the ground.
--
In the end, she'd handled it herself.
Raleigh didn't have family, didn't have an emergency contact. She'd watched Levi be loaded onto the gurney, and she limped to follow him - but one of the EMTs sat her down and took one look at her, and she was on one as well. She's got no phone - and she doesn't know anyone's phone numbers off the back of her hand, so she goes alone.
Concussion, hairline fractures in her left wrist (her fault) and right cheekbone (not her fault), bruised ribs - bruises all over really, and the 7 inch long cut along the bottom of her foot, from her heel to her toes -- had stitches.
Which meant she had crutches.
She knew she had to be at the hospital to get the stitches, but what she didn't know - or didn't expect, really, was that they were expecting to keep her. They were expecting to keep her, and she couldn't do it. She couldn't, not and keep thinking of Les' words. Of Joseph's, of her own. She'd been through it, after she'd fallen into the basement of that rotted old house. Two days, she'd been down there, and half the people who visited her informed her that They didn't even know she was gone.
Raleigh can't live through that again.
That's why she checks herself out once it's all done, the stitches and the lectures and the questions. That's why she heads back into town - the clicking of the crutches something that's entirely old hat to her, given her leg - and she's thinking about tomorrow. About working, and she draws herself up short before she sits heavily on one of the little tables outside the coffeeshop, nevermind that she hasn't bought anything, that she looks like a wreck and that she's wearing scrubs for pants and a cheap flipflop on her good foot because the exceedingly nice nurse realised that they had to cut her jeans off of her, and she had no shoes - her hoodie had blood on the sleeve and the hem, oddly brown now, but she hasn't realised it.
She sits, and she can't help it as she starts to cry, her free hand still holding the crutches so they don't clatter onto the ground.
no subject
Deep breath. Deep breath, and then there's the question that she knows she has to ask, and she trusts him. She's asking because she trusts him. Trust is hard, and right now, she doesn't know who else she'd actually ask this of, but... she can at least ask Jason.
"Believe me when I say I don't mean this the way it sounds," she says lowly, "But- But.... I'm-" Raleigh has a hard time coming up with the words, and she bites her lip hard before she finally continues. "Will you maybe- Can you maybe stay? Tonight, with me- I... I don't think I can-" She stops again, and she looks down at her hands. "When I broke my leg, I was... trapped, for a while, and I just- I think I need someone, tonight?" Because she knew how she reacted then, the way she couldn't be alone in the dark.
no subject
But then he thinks about where she lives and wonders what kind of arrangements they have there."Am I allowed to?" This is the first she's explained her leg. He doesn't need any further explanation. "I'll stay."
no subject
He says she'll stay, and she exhales in a rush, and it's because the tension's just sort of... come off just a bit. "Thank you," she breathes, her eyes finding his. "Seriously, I... I couldn't do this alone, and I trust you, and.... thank you." She leans up, and very lightly kisses him on the cheek, closing her eyes as her forehead rests against his temple for just a moment. "You're a good guy. Special, like I said before." Before all this happened.
no subject
Jason smile softly whens he kisses his check. He tries to reassure her that there's nothing to worry about. "I'm very sneaky," he says. "No one will even know I'm around."