Just hold me.

Just a short lickle thing about comfort.

And an experiment with lyricism. So I went back to my roots and wrote about what I know about – feeling crap :p

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How are you meant to react when someone asks you “are you all right?”

Elspeth didn’t know, she never knew. The lights around the bathroom mirror blinding her, he stood there, one hand on the switch, looking at her, making her melt under his concern. She wanted to yell at him, tell him to go away, tell him that nothing was all right, that everything was wrong, that nothing that ever happened was right, but she couldn’t. The words choked in her throat, making her eyes water with the sharp pain in her gullet. She closed her eyes, unable to speak.

“Elle?”

No, she pleaded, just go away. I hurt, I hurt so much but I can’t stop it. Elspeth’s body ached like she’d run miles, her heart weighed her down like it was made of metal, her body frozen in melancholy, unable to move, turning into marble, a statue of grief for the goddess of sorrow. She thought she looked like a statue – her skin had gone pale, she stood like she was catatonic, hair fell over her lifeless eyes, such a pale blue they almost looked white. She knelt over the bath, dull kitchen knife in one hand, pills sitting opposite her, bottle rolling guilty, pills falling out like drops of blood.

“Oh no…what have you done…” he asked, his voice full of recrimination.

Elspeth suddenly burnt with anger. “What have I done with myself!” she choked out angrily, “what the hell has everyone else done with me!”

He knelt down beside her and grabbed her hand with the knife in it, which she instantly dropped. He grabbed a towel off the radiator and wrapped it around her arm, which although burnt with red angry lines, hadn’t been hurt. “What’re you doing?” Elspeth spat, “i-I’m fine…”

“No you’re not!” he exclaimed, “Do you even know how late it is? How many did you take…”

“J-just t-thr-three.” Elspeth sobbed, breaking down like a child, “I-I-felt i-ill.”

“Elle…” Elspeth looked up into Dante’s honest face, that face that told her he loved her, even now, that face that made her want to cringe with guilt for what she’d done. She wished she could feel angry with him for making her feel guilty, but she couldn’t. It wasn’t as if she wasn’t trying either, she wanted to sling cruelty at him, make him go away, make him take away his warm hands, bringing her back to life, making her merely mortal, but as she returned to normality, all she wanted to do was cry.

“Please, don’t touch me…” she whispered. Dante let go quickly, Elspeth curling her legs into her chest, hands hovering like nervous humming birds around her face as she stared through him into the distance. She was biting back her tears, eyes smarting from the effort. She swallowed, the very effort of breathing weighing on her like a guilt conscience.

“I-I had a b-bad dream.” She stuttered, “A b-bad dream. “She rubbed an eye with a hand, tears falling like acid rain.

“Elle…” He reached out, but stopped. He couldn’t touch her, she realised, the look on his face, that look of concern and frustration. She could tell he wanted to help her, but she wished he didn’t. It made everything so much harder...

“I…dreamed it was still the same. I-I dreamed I saw Him again” she cried out, the words muffled by the hot salty water, words she was creaming but were barely audible.

“Oh God…” He flinched. He felt her pain, it was there, written all over his face. ELSPETH couldn’t take it any more and just let out a massive sob.

“Please – just hold me.” She asked. She sounded just like a lost little child, so scared, so sacred…so scared and so small, giving over her control to the world and grasping to find any sense in it.

Dante leaned over and held her. It was barely seconds before he started to cry himself, arms wrapped around her, holding her so tightly that Elspeth knew no one could separate them. She clawed his blue shirt with her stubby fingernails, pulling him closer, ruining it with leaking grief. He didn’t notice, holding her close, her head in his breast, just below his chin, her body tucked into his torso, holding so close, so close and so warm, not clammy and sullied, but comforting and safe. Unashamedly she nuzzled him, and he just held her close.

Kissing her on the forehead he said, “I promise that I’ll never let anyone hurt you again. I promise…”

“But it still hurts…”

“…and I want to help you. I can’t make it go away, I want to Elle, believe me…” he said, his words going up an octave, eminent with tears, “Please believe me. I’ll never let anyone hurt you again…”

“Just hold me…” she whispered as she wrapped her arms around his neck, smelling the sent of soap and cigar smoke, the smell filling her senses, covering her in a layer of contentment, “just hold me…”

He held her, rocking her like a baby, Elspeth crying like she were just a mewing infant, him as solemn as warrior before battle. They clung to each other for dear life – Dante couldn’t make it better, but as he held her, allowing her this moment of pain, she couldn’t help but wonder what she’d done to deserve a man like this.

“Just hold me, “she mouthed, but there were no more words. Just the slight buzz of the bathroom lights.