Suffocate

Vicious.

That was the way Ceaser had described her, the way Claudius Templesmith had.

Our newest victor is a surprise to us all, a girl who seemed to sprout and flourish before our very eyes. A vicious and talented killer, everybody, the winner of the seventy first hunger games. Miss Johanna Mason!

Vicious. Calculated. Clever.

Words that had flowed around her, formed her character. The way everyone thought she was. Was she? Probably she mused, pushing herself up against the bed board, her body still flowing with the morphling stolen from the unconscious girl on the other side of the pristine white curtain. A nurse had come in to check so Johanna had slithered back to her bed, watched the curtain flutter with her movement and wondered if they had any idea. No doubt the place was bugged with cameras, but the curtain itself was new, it was never there when Elenia had shared the small room.

But then Elenia wasn’t the Mockingjay, wasn’t the most prized puppet in all of Panem. Johanna stretched, if she was so vicious she should be able to handle a few hours without a drug numbing her completely. Numbing who she was.

Johanna my dear, you did surprise us all most definitely! Such a clever game plan, to deceive us at first. How ever did you think of it?!

Johanna had thought about it through the only piece of useful advice that Blight and that fool of the only other survivor Seven, Archus, had given her. Stay unnoticed, don’t be someone they talk about a lot. Wait it out for the careers to kill the rest, wait for them to turn and then swoop in.

She’d played along at first, acted weak, attracted little attention. But when she’d seen that axe across the dash to the Cornucopia something in her clicked, a switch hovering between the settings was turned on. Could she say the games changed her? Everyone said it about other victors, that was evident enough, Peeta was some distorted evil version of himself, Finnick had been dressed up and whored around, and Elenia, well, nothing was left of the cocky teenager that had entered, the girl that twisted people around her little finger.

Nobody really said it about Johanna Mason.

She hadn’t much liked people before and she detested them afterwards. Hated them so much it lost her the only few she did care about. Had the loneliness let the hate simmer, boil up, fill with her an anger it was hard to ignore. She felt her hand shake, fingers itching to wrap around a weapon, to feel the weight. If she could smash Dr.Wyere’s face in she would. He didn’t help, regardless of what a couple of the others said.

Beetee, in a rare trip higher than his research labs hadn’t changed much either, but then she had never seen his games. He could have always been an odd little man for all she knew. His brain was his best asset, exactly why Coin and her pets had sent him to work. Johanna was still too ill, ‘recuperating’ was the term they kept using, inbetween telling her she was safe here, away from harm.

She didn’t feel safe in her dreams, they were warped memories twisted with even more horrific visions. When Elenia had been in the bed beside her she’d tried to hide the effects, it couldn’t always be done, but she managed far better than the blonde from District Four.

Not that it was suprising, as Johanna had even said to her, if she’d been handling it anywhere near as bad as her it would be fucked up. Anger was what kept Johanna going, she knew that, everbody knew it. They seemed to be waiting for her to snap, like Peeta, or break down like Elenia.

All those horrors are behind you

Horrors couldn’t even really begin to describe it. She felt herself sinking and pushed herself up, physically as well as mentally, still skinny back touching the cool wall. It was odd that the temperature here was just so...even. Never cold, never hot, the same stagnant air filled the halls, the hospital walls that enclosed her pretty much 24/7. Johanna didn’t care how they did it, somehow it just managed to irritate her.

The nurse left, and she waited a few moments before creeping back to Katniss’s bed. She was still unconscious, both arms linked up to IV’s. She gently tugged the one containing morphine from its holding and connected it to the needle kept in the crook of her arm. The relief was instant, and the pain in her back ebbed away slowly. Katniss twitched a little, murmuring. Johanna knew roughly what had happened, words echoed easily in the hospital and no-one seemed to care what they were saying in front of her. She’d been shot, barely though, her outfit fit with layers of layers and protection had just made it crack a rib or two, rupture a spleen.

She’d told Finnick and his easy smile had twisted into a slight frown. That was when Katniss was still in surgery. Johanna was confused at first, trying to work out the change. Katniss would be fine, they’d explained that, and so had she. She’d be out of it for a few days, sore, stiff, but a spleen was hardly needed. His frown deepened before she realised her mistake.

Elenia. Of course. The very organ, useless as it was, she’d lost. That and her stupid kidney had almost killed her. Johanna couldn’t remember who had told her that, or when. It must have been at the beginning of her joyful stay in Thirteen, when she was so drugged up she couldn’t even feel the bed below her.

She almost missed that. Their plan to wean her off of it was only assisting in pissing her off.

She had to get out of this fucking room. She wanted to get out of the whole District, fly straight to the Capitol, bald and shaking, scars coating her. She wanted to kill Snow, Ceaser, that fucking Claudius Templesmith. She was vicious. Yes she was. But she was trapped, injured, useless.

She unhooked herself, slid from the bed and left the room. She didn’t have to stay here, in this bed. Some of the doctors told her to move around, she went to the dining room for some meals. The thing was, she had nowhere to go, she wasn’t allowed a room on her own. Not in her ‘condition’, they seemed to fear she’d hurt herself, somehow take out the ‘horrors’ on her own body.

She wasn’t stupid. She wouldn’t delay her health returning for anything. Others were in training, Finnick, the tall boy, Gale. He was quite obviously in love with the cold seventeen year old unconscious close to her. People were preparing for something; to destroy Snow, destroy all of the bastards who had killed children for years, let people starve. Tortured and mutilated her and the others.

The others.

She sighed, both of them were more fucked up than her and that was saying something. But she wanted to talk to someone, she had to be out of it. The hallway was just as sterile, and she paced back and forth until she realised she had one option. She traced the steps to the lift, pressed the button and tried to recall exactly which identical apartment Finnick and Elenia were staying in.

She hesitated before pressing her index finger on the small metal screen. When there was no immediate response she huffed and knocked lightly, irritation already fluttering and making her knuckles hit the metal much harder. There was a whooshing noise as the door slid open and a weak gust made the short hair growing on her scalp twitch. “Johanna?” The confusion wrinkled her features gently, and even when trying to ignore it, the look on her face made Johanna’s jaw clench.

“Going to invite me in?”

“Y-yeah, sorry.” She stepped back, legs bare, the rest of her covered by a standard t-shirt that practically poured off of her. Finnick’s obviously, the sort she’d seen him wear the odd time he visited her before or after his training sessions. She was so used to the hospital gown and dull shorts underneath it looked odd. “Are you okay?”

“Fine.” She followed Elenia further into the room, the sheets on the bed were in a state of disarray, as was Elenia’s hair, as ever. Johanna couldn’t tell if it was from the nightmares that she knew ravaged everyone to a degree, some more than others or that they had just been fucking. Johanna never thrashed about, instead she felt paralysed, like she couldn’t move, couldn’t even breathe. Not that anyone would ever know. Not more than they needed too.

Elenia tugged down the bottom of the t-shirt, running her fingers through her mane of hair in the way she always did, although it never made any difference, and the tangled curls just popped back up, threatening to cover her face, hide her from view. “Finnick isn’t...er...here. He’s...training...I think, with Beetee? I’m not quite sure-“

“I figured.” She almost regretted the sharpness of her voice, but the twitch as Elenia let the words somehow hurt her made her want to roll her eyes. Johanna sat on one of the available chairs, there were two, close to a desk with several drawers, a few personal items sat on top. Elenia’s brother must have brought them from Four.

Johanna had no personal belongings. No-one to come to Four, no-one to remember truly. Snow had ensured they were all butchered. Some look must have came over her face because when she looked upwards Elenia was looking at her, head tilted, heavy metal caged arm resting on the desk. The band met her hand, caught on the metal, Johanna had the same around her wrist, ‘mentally disorientated’, it was basically a get out of jail free card for them to get away with anything, even ignoring the precious schedules and rules about frugality that the colourless people down here loved.

“Okay?”

“Fine.” Johanna repeated again.

“Okay.”

“Alright then.” She breathed, leaning back and crossing her arms. She had no reason to come here, she was sure Elenia knew it as well as her. They weren’t friends, Elenia had barely ever spoken, and when she had, before her slight improvement during the Quarter Quell it was to Finnick. Only ever Finnick.

And Finnick was the closest Johanna had to a friend. Pathetic. She even looked pathetic now.

“You want a drink or something?” Johanna nodded and Elenia vanished, awkwardly clasping too plastic cups in her decent hand, Johanna noticed they left rings of drops on the bedside table. She bit her cheek, there was still no reason in coming here. What was she going to say?

That she was actually scared?

She wasn’t, most of the time, she was too angry for that. She had nothing to do with herself, that had to be it she reassured. She wanted to get better, stronger, able to join in and finally get that vengeance she needed. She also wanted to spend as much time as possible spaced out from the morphling.

Even fucking Elenia Volute was allowed to go around and do things. Not that she was, according to Finnick. Johanna had seen her at breakfast twice in the last four days, and only dinner once. She hadn’t visited Johanna, why would she? It looked like now Elenia properly had Finnick how she’d always wanted that was enough for her, and she was just going to spend the rest of her days in a box deep underground. She returned, placed the slightly cool water down and took a long sip.

“When do you get all that ugly metal off then? Finnick mentioned something...” The look on her face made it clear she’d had no idea Finnick had been speaking to Johanna about her, or maybe she wasn’t aware her beau even visited her previous ally.

“Oh,” her tongue darted almost nervously over her lip, yet another of the annoying ticks she seemed to have develop when she’d completely lost her mind after her games. “Soonish, I asked some of the doctors and they can give me something to speed healing, but it’s apparently really painful for a few days.” She clicked her tongue, shrugging, “Either way after the stupid brace I’ll need some sort of glove or something they said, to try and help with the nerves and bones and...whatever.”

“Sounds fun.”

“Yup.” Elenia popped the word, taking another long sip. Johanna knew the awkward question was coming before she even opened her mouth, “So...how are you...feeling?” The hesitancy was typical, likely correct, and the sarcastic snap left Johanna before she even had time to process it. The slightly younger girl didn’t answer, she just fiddled again with the hem of that stupid shirt, tugging it over thin thighs in a childlike motion.

She wasn’t even that much younger, Johanna mused, about two years, give or take a few months. Even so the age gap felt huge, was it because she felt so old, weary, tired? Or was it just that Elenia had never seemed to fully be a person without Finnick, not to Johanna’s knowledge anyway. She didn’t look younger, particularly, especially not now with dark shadows under her eyes, her lack of sleep clear.

Again, was that from nightmares or Finnick?

Johanna felt a flicker in her stomach, a churning she rarely did and she knew instantly what it was. Jealously. The same way she felt when she thought about Katniss, when she had seen how much power the bland faced teenager held over people. Johanna had spent years trying to encourage some sort of rebellion in Seven, she’d lost everything for it. Katniss had kissed Peeta a few times and threatened to kill herself. That had been enough. Enough for the people to fall in love with her and to start a whole bloody revolution.

It was necessary, but it shouldn’t have been her, it shouldn’t have been Katniss. That was where the jealously lay. The same way she felt envious of Elenia, as odd and unhinged as she was she had Finnick. Johanna didn’t want Finnick particularly, but she wanted someone. Stupid.

The silence stretched on, the light furthest away, over the messy bed was flickering. Elenia’s eyes seemed to be trained on it, and her fingers turned into claws, nails digging deep into her palm. The other fingers on her left hand twitched slightly in the way they had been since her wrist had been broken and the same electricity that had turned Johanna into a burning statue had ravaged her limbs.

Johanna coughed, as ever trying to force the memories away, even the noise didn’t pull the blonde girl back but that wasn’t much of a surprise. After their couple of weeks as roommates Johanna knew you either had to wait for her to blink back into reality or you had to really jerk her out of it. Finnick was best at that; he managed to do it gently. Although from what he had been saying, she was getting better.

No doubt that was a lie.

Johanna waited until she blinked hard, and her eyes finally dragged from the light with a stumbling apology, a fake smile spreading over her lips. It was almost painful to watch and Johanna gave up, realised there was no point, nothing.

She wanted to be outside, she wanted to be home.
She could only be home when Snow was dead. And she would savour that moment.

Thom was due back from District Two tonight. At least word had gotten to greasy Sue in the kitchens who had told Phillus. I didn’t know where the original word came from but I was happy. He’d told me there was nothing to be concerned about and I should have believed him. Tonight.

My brother returning would just add to what had so far been an odd day. Four days since Katniss had been brought back, alive, as promised, recovering. I hadn’t been out of the room much, ignored the schedule when I had been. I didn’t want to sit through the ‘History of Thirteen’, or hours of information about nuclear weaponry. I didn’t want to be around any sort of weaponry, another reason I had turned down Beetee’s request one rare meal for me to venture deeper down into the earth, to the research labs he all but ran.

He was doing something with weapons, Finnick had explained, specialising them, he’d done a lot on bows and arrows for Katniss and her ‘cousin’ Gale.

I didn’t want a weapon and I told him as much. I didn’t want to touch one for as long as possible, preferably never again. Let Katniss have her bloodshed, I wanted Snow gone, I wanted the whole institution of the Games gone but I didn’t want to have to see anybody else die. I didn’t want to be involved.

Finnick said I had no choice but to be involved. We’d come close to an argument. Sex had become a diversion from any of that; it was pretty much the only time all of it truly faded away. Sleep had never been safe and now it was worse than ever, no matter how tightly his arms were wrapped around me.

I was getting good at faking slumber until he fell asleep. Then I’d stare at the weak light glowing under the door, half clinging to his arm to keep me real, keep me here. Some nights I drifted off finally into horrors, some nights I just didn’t sleep. Finnick knew, of course he did, his ability to read my mind only seemed to be increasing.

Either way I made him to do what he was supposed to each day, he had his training, stupid propaganda videos with Plutarch. He had a schedule, stuff to do.

He’d argued against that as well, if I ever put my arm in the slot leaving the apartment I would see I had a schedule too. He wouldn’t let me just rot away in here.

That was my decision, my choice. And I wasn’t. Dr.Wyere came every day, Rita or Phillus usually brought some, or more likely, all of the kids around. I wasn’t rotting away, I was trying to convince myself that I could use the shower without imagining dead bodies as the jets of disinfectant tore at my skin. I was trying to force myself to go to sleep only thinking of good things.

I was trying to get better and being made to shoot a gun or learn about bombs didn’t fit into that. Not that anyone would listen, they all encouraged me to start acting ‘normally’, fitting and getting into a routine was key in healing, moving past things.

You can’t change the past and that is all behind you now. There is no going back, only forward. You have to be proactive. You’re safe here, physically safe, don’t let yourself build mental walls that stop your progress.

He made sense, but saying it and doing it was very different. And my task today had been the shower, but just the slickness of the buttons, somehow still damp from Finnick using them the night before had freaked me out and I’d retreated. I’d managed to fill the child like bath with lukewarm water, if I kept my head away from the water, of which there was no problem with such a small thing, I felt fine. The feeling of drowning instead reached me in my nightmares.

I’d run that and forced a brush through my hair when there had been a knock at my door, and surprisingly, Johanna. She looked tired, bags under her eyes not far from my own. I hadn’t seen her since I had left, and whilst already she looked a little heavier, she was still as pale. She’d snapped at me a few times, unsurprisingly. I was more amazed by the fact that she had come here at all, Finnick had spoken to her but she had never sought me out. I waited for some revelation but received nothing, instead we sat in a silence which, as ever, caused me to wander.

The flickering light reminded me of the few seconds after the electrocutions, when I could finally breathe and blink, marring the sight above me. She left not long after, her water barely touched, giving no reason for her visit. It wasn’t me she wanted to speak to, surely. It would have been Finnick.

I was just the tag along.

I forced myself into the low bath of water a few minutes after and washed, slipping on my own trousers and t-shirt. The usual grey shirt sleeves were too awkward to get over my arm, and quickly we’d abandoned them, although at least this t-shirt was actually the right size and didn’t drape from me. Hair followed until I was at a point where I was half presentable. It was more so nobody worried than because I particularly cared. But Wyere’s speech about a sense of normality echoed and I nod at my reflection, try and tuck a loose curl, still slightly damp back and roll on my heels.

Johanna had confused me, but that was nothing new. She was doing nothing more than I was now, other than being plugged into machines. I was wasting my time the same way I had for years.

I swallowed, stepping towards the door and pressing my arm into the slot, watching as the machine pressed inky letters onto my forearm. They were cool for a second, a sticky substance but after a few seconds I tugged my arm back and they had dried, a tattoo that lasted just for a day. I glanced over the schedule, it was close to lunch so already I had missed an education session and that invitation down to research. All I had left was Lunch, basic training and reflection before the evening meal.
Reflection was bullshit basically; it was a half hour period you were supposed to spend in your room, with your family or whoever you shared with. If I had my way all day would be reflection.

I had to at least follow the routine. Or, if not. I had to do something.
I wanted to go outside, finally. I wanted the fresh air and the wind.
With or without orders.

The halls still looked identical the further up you went and I found myself on the floor I had met Prim on, the weak windows brought in natural light and I pushed up on my toes, managing to shove my hand through the gaps again. It was warm enough, and tilting I could see a patch of overcast sky.

“I don’t think you’ll fit through that.” I jump, startled at the voice and land heavily back on flat feet, eyes stuck to his face until his features become clear and jog something in my memory. “You’re...less scary without the bug costume.” My poor joke takes a second to land but then a thin grin emerges just as my guilt does as a fuzzy memory appears, “Thom told me I attacked you a bit...”

“A bit?” A thick eyebrow lifts, and oddly, rather than being embarrassed I almost giggle. “It’s fine. I don’t blame you whatsoever. I’m glad you’re okay.”

Okay. The amount of times I had described myself wrongly as okay, it no longer seemed like a true word.

“You are okay?”

“As okay as I can be I guess. You...going to see Katniss?” He shifts a little uncomfortably, but I notice he is in the training gear, the grey shirt and tracksuits bottoms, heavy trainers and guards on his arms. “She’s still out.” He explains simply, just a hint of emotion, “But they reckon later on she’ll probably be awake. All of the surgery went fine, nothing major. No-one needs a spleen right?”

I didn’t. My chest tightens but I ignore it, just returning his gentle smile. “Are you going outside?”

“For training yeah. Is that where you want to go or are you going to continue with the window plan?”

“A door would be easier.” He grins again and I return it, glad for someone who is easy company. Not that Finnick isn’t, but that’s different. Gale doesn’t know me, not properly, and for once he’s not assuming from what he’s seen on screen that I’m too unstable to even speak to normally. “We should be able to get you out. What does your schedule say?”

“Physio.” I glance down at it.

“You don’t seem like you’re in physio.” I shrug, “We’ll think of an excuse, come on.” He twists and walks a few steps before stopping, “Sorry,” his arm shoots forward, always knocking into me from where I had darted to catch up, “My mom would be horrified with my manners. Gale.”

“I know.” I accept his hand anyway, bemused by the overly formal gesture, he glances at the scars looping my wrists but shakes gently, “Elenia.”

“I know.” He repeats, “Let’s get up.”

He slows his strides a little so I can walk beside him. He’s tall, easily taller then Finnick and my brother, but without the lanky quality Thom possesses. If he’d been in the games he would have had a lot of sponsors, I hate that I think like that but I do. After a few minutes and other lift ride we arrive at two wide doors, thick metal, for attacks he tells me, bombing and such as they had a few weeks back. “It was lucky Peeta said anything...” his voice lowers then, sounds resentful.

My eyelids are painted with scenes of what happened to Peeta after he had warned them, the batons flying and hitting flesh and bones, his groans of pains before my own erupted. I speak before I stop myself, “It wasn’t lucky for him.” I got an apologetic look in return, I ignored it, far more happy as the door opened, revealing a grass area, a fence far across it, another barricade. I didn’t care, the sun was breaking through the grey clouds, thinner patches scattering across the sky. One of the guards murmured something to Gale who waved him off, I was a little impressed how somebody so young had such influence in a place he barely knew.

But then the breeze was dancing past me, lifting the end of my hair, tickling my skin. I inhaled and exhaled deeply. If we were closer to the sea it would have been almost perfect, but for now I was content just with the smell of the grass, the freshness of the air. The realness. “Oh for fuck sake, again?” I followed his irritated line of sight, seeing an odd sight.

Camera men, or women, it was hard to tell, the cameras were completely different to those in the Capitol and seemed to be one combined piece of kit, coating most of the workers face from view. “What are they filming?”

“Propos...as ever. Watch out, Cressida spots you and you’ll be forced right into something...”

“They’re still doing the videos? I thought that was just to distract people and turn them on the Capitol?” His smirk returned a little.

“People want to see what the Mockingjay is up to don’t they?”

“But she’s in the hospital, so who are they filming?”

“Finnick.” The moment he speaks I can make Finnick out, his hair catching in the weak rays of sun, some trident, larger than any I’d seen before in his arms. He wasn’t alone, wasn’t doing it just for the cameras but they were filming him intently. “What...why now?”

“Coin wanted to turn him into some sort of rebel leader when they got here. He was a bit too...” He stopped carefully, “Ill to go for it. I don’t know if she’s trying now, I haven’t been invited to those kind of meetings in Command lately. I think Coin’s mad at me.”

“He hasn’t said anything about that to me.”

“Not sure how much he knows. Besides, people need to see what everyone is doing. The whole of Panem saw the Quell, the escape. People need encouragement so...” he gestured off at the crew, “They like to show them what we’re up too.”

“They think Finnick swinging his trident around will make people fight harder?”

“If they know we’ll be there with them.”

“There?” He couldn’t pretend to ignore the sharpness in my tone, “There as is where, the Capitol?”

“That’s the plan...” His tongue flicked on his lower lip. Finnick had admitted as much but hearing someone else say it confirmed it. This wasn’t just Finnick being mad, this was a plan. “When?”

“I have no idea, when the fighting has calmed slightly in the Districts as far as I know.”

“Which is when?”

“A month odd, I don’t get told all the details. Not important enough.”

None of us were important enough. But, a month. Finnick promised me he would be fine, he would be fine but in a month he’d be with them trying to kill Snow. “Just think,” Gale doesn’t understand my concern, “In a month it could all be over, a new Panem. At least that’s what Plutarch claims.”

A new Panem but one people I cared about would be putting themselves at risk for. The frown seems carved into my cheeks, and as Gale continues to speak of tactics, the same shit Plutarch told me about a democracy I stare up at the slowly moving patches of cloud, easily making shapes. “Anyway, I better get over there, they’re expecting me.” I tense my calves, dragging my head down.

“Sure, thanks...thanks for showing me the way out.”

“No problem, just make sure you get away before Cressida and the crew spot you. Unless you fancy before poked and prodded at.” I smile, just a little, “I will do. Thanks.” I stand still, watching him half jog over there, too insignificant a figure to catch the camera’s attention. Gale greets the others and moves a bit closer to Finnick, telling me to remain unknown whilst hissing to Finnick exactly where I was. I see his head turn in my direction and before long, the rest of the group follows.

I’m bombarded within the minute. The woman, Cressida she must be, is about my height, with a pretty face. The only part of her that makes it clear she was Captiol born is her hint of an accent and her hair, half of her head is shaved, and decorated in tattoos of golden and green vines. In the weak light they seem to glitter, oddly appealing.

Her smile is catlike, “Elenia.” There’s no hint of doubt as she speaks my name, and by the time Finnick reaches us, looking a little wary she’s already pushing hair out of my face and asking me how I am. Telling me how happy she is to see me up and about, and if I wouldn’t mind being in the background of a video of Finnick and Gale training.

“Cressida.” She glances back at Finnick and the two had a short mouth conversation I missed before she sighs heavily, “Fine, not now then. I’ll talk to Plutarch, everyone out there is wondering what exactly has happened to you and Miss Mason.” She smiles prettily.

No they weren’t but I nodded, no interest whatsoever in being dressed up and forced to do something. Hadn’t they turned everyone on the Capitol? “Wonderful,” her head tilts, “Well, we’re about done with that Finnick, we can get the close up tomorrow when the weather clears up.” It’s her way of realising him and I’m grateful for it, Gale wincing in my direction as he takes over the role of actor, leaving Finnick and I alone.

“Of all the times to decide to break out.” He’s only teasing and his arm, the trident held in his other, lands around my back, hand gently resting close to my hip.

“I was getting a bit bored of wallowing in self pity.” His smile falters for a second before regaining it’s splendour.

“No-one would say that.” I roll my eyes but tell him about Johanna’s odd little visit, “Maybe she wanted to talk to you.”

“She didn’t. She just snapped at me and left. Johanna doesn’t want to talk to anybody.” He shrugs, hand slipping around and gently holding my spasming fingers. As ever he adjusts himself so he won’t bang the metal. I want it off as soon as possible, I’d rather have a couple of days of pain again and have some element of my hand back then leave it trapped in a clunky cage.

“Hmmm, we’ll see. You better watch out for Cressida and Plutarch now anyway, once they get their claws in you...”

“What exactly are they going to film me doing?”

“Some sign of your progress I guess.”

“Oh what, like my new fear of the dark? Or the fact I have about two panic attacks a day? Which part of that is progress?” His hand grips tighter, and he twists me, pressing his lips against mine quickly.

“You’re doing fine.”

“Fine?”

He kisses me again, and a wall meets my back, I sink into him but all too soon he breaks away.

“Wonderfully. Come on, I wanna clean up a bit before lunch. Your niece promised she’d save us a seat this morning.” That was another meal I hadn’t attended.

“Which one?”

“The bitey one.”

“She bit you once, and she was teething, they were barely anything.”

“She made me bleed.” He insisted, pulling me along with him again. Palm resting on my lower back softly, “It took a lot to forgive her.”

“Well, I’m glad you managed it.”

“I know, I’m almost too delightful...And modest.”