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Post by Dawnmist on Jan 4, 2015 18:25:14 GMT
"Don't you see?" She gritted her teeth, frustrated. "I need this. I don't want to stay sober because then I feel the need to give up. I don't want this, Nic. Why on earth would anybody want this for themselves? I just... I feel like all this, everything, is driving me insane, and I need to forget about it all."
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Post by Copper on Jan 4, 2015 18:28:52 GMT
"Or do you need it to face the fact that you've already given up? Look at you, Tessa. You're making your entire medical situation worse and justifying it with the fact that you have low chances of making it though anyway. That is giving up. By drinking that? You're giving up. By ignoring it, you're giving up."
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Post by Dawnmist on Jan 4, 2015 18:59:21 GMT
"And how am I meant to face the fact that I might die?" She demanded, setting down her bottle with a little more force than she'd liked. "That I might die? That my sister is a sadistic psychomaniac that probably just hurt my best friend?" her voice wavered, and tears threatened to spill from her eyes. "How do I face the fact that my parents might lose both of their daughters?" She rolled up her left sleeve, where a dozen slits marked her skin. She felt a small amount of satisfaction that she was revealing something he couldn't see, and hated herself even more for it. "I wake up every morning, praying that I'm still me. That the tumour hasn't taken over completely and changed me. And do you know what happens when I remember?" Closing her eyes, she gripped his hand in hers and moved it to her arm to feel the scars. "This."
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Post by Copper on Jan 4, 2015 19:21:33 GMT
He shivered, feeling the scars. He knew exactly what they were. After all, they had marred his own skin once. Carefully, he used his free hand to move up his own sleeve, where the jagged pink and white remains were still visible. "You dont drink it away. Tessa, these are all things outside of your control. So why do you hurt yourself over it?"
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Post by Dawnmist on Jan 4, 2015 19:31:41 GMT
A tear slipped down her cheek, and she wiped it away with the back of her hand. "I can't help it, Nic. I try to be happy, but I'm so tired all the time."
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Post by Copper on Jan 4, 2015 19:34:52 GMT
"You don't have to be happy about it," he said quietly, running his fingers over the cuts in her skin. "You just have to endure. Endure and be strong, and stop hurting yourself because it's not your fault. With knives or with alcohol."
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Post by Dawnmist on Jan 4, 2015 20:16:50 GMT
She felt a small tingle under his touch, and hesitated before replying to control her breathing. "I hate all this stuff about being strong. I'm not strong, and I never will be. I just don't want to die."
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Post by Copper on Jan 4, 2015 20:26:49 GMT
"Then stop trying to speed that particular process up. Look at that bottle. Look at these cuts. How will any of this help you to not die?"
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Post by Dawnmist on Jan 4, 2015 20:32:07 GMT
"They won't," she answered softly, looking down at her bare arm and feeling disgusted with herself. "Everything's just such a mess."
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Post by Copper on Jan 4, 2015 20:35:56 GMT
"Then stop doing it, Tessa. Please. Take actual medication, eat healthy, whatever you have to do to support yourself so that you don't die. I know it feels like a mess now, but you have to keep your head up and not give up on yourself."
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Post by Dawnmist on Jan 4, 2015 20:40:20 GMT
She couldn't stop the sob that escaped her lips, and covered her mouth with her hand. "They've put me down for chemotherapy. I'm going to lose all of my hair." It was funny, the smaller things that concerned her when she was forced to look at the big picture.
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Post by Copper on Jan 4, 2015 20:42:13 GMT
Nicolas's hands rose until he could feel the hair, the soft locks that settled in his fingers. It was always soft, and neat, and smelled like lavender, even through the stink of alcohol. After a moment, he managed to find his voice. "Tell me about your hair. What does it look like?"
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Post by Dawnmist on Jan 4, 2015 20:54:47 GMT
"Well, it's long and kind of wavy," she said slowly, "but of course you already know that. It's a darker shade of blonde - almost light brown. The same colour as the caramel you get in chocolates sometimes."
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Post by Copper on Jan 4, 2015 21:05:37 GMT
To someone living in a world of sounds, scents, and textures, the latter part of her statement meant little, but he nodded. "It sounds beautiful."
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Post by Dawnmist on Jan 4, 2015 21:14:04 GMT
She smiled, flushing with pleasure at the compliment. "Nic, how do you imagine colours?" It was something she had always wanted to ask him, but it had never felt appropriate to ask before.
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Post by Copper on Jan 4, 2015 21:23:50 GMT
He shrugged. "Colors have no meaning to me. It's hard for me to understand what a color even is, to be honest. So it's just replaced by smells and noises and textures. Colors are like concepts such as hope and faith and rage; they're somethung that's there but can't be physically felt. Why know what color an apple is when you know the sounds it makes when it's broken, the waxy feel of the peel, the sharp smell of water and fruit when it's cut into? What's color, in the face of all that?"
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Post by Dawnmist on Jan 4, 2015 21:27:24 GMT
She thought for a moment. "It's hard to imagine not being able to see them. Sort of like trying to visualise a new colour for me, I suppose. It's just not possible."
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Post by Copper on Jan 4, 2015 21:34:57 GMT
"For a while, you hunger for color," he sighed. "You want to experience it more than anything. But then you realize that you don't need it. I can know what things look like without looking at them. Sort of. It's hard to explain."
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Post by Dawnmist on Jan 4, 2015 21:36:46 GMT
"So you can tell what I look like, for example?" she questioned. I always knew Nic saw things up close almost as well as the rest of us, despite being blind.
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Post by Copper on Jan 4, 2015 21:43:32 GMT
Gently, Nicolas placed his hands on her face, fingers probing at her features with as much delicacy as he could manage. "You have these really round cheekbones. And really soft skin... though I know you didn't moisturize this morning, because you usually smell like your favorite moisturizer-- lilac and a hint of citrus. And you have a heart-shaped face, a real one too, 'cause I can feel your widow's peak up here. And your eyes are a little bit more almond-shaped than your sister's or your cousin's. And your ears are small, too, and you have detached earlobes. By the way, you might want to wear earrings more often, because I feel your piercings starting to close up. And your jawline slopes, then goes up really sharply right here. You were drinking firewhiskey this morning, and you were around Giovanni earlier. You hugged him-- I can kind of smell him on you. I also smell Bianca's perfume-- Chanel No. 5, my personal favorite. And your were with Elizabeth. One of her hairs is on your shoulder. They're thicker than yours, and curlier."
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