Sanctity: Dane NC Leave

[amichan]

Oh, hey, look. It's the other one.
----

[Dane]
“Go, away…” a brief effort, flail-like to wave, and a shifting in the bed, pillow chewing, not wanting to wake up.
[Dane]
“Unless it’s the cops, I don’t care…” more mumbles.
[No enforcement]
“Enforce…” Noone uses that phrase, bolt upright in bed. Conquest still sleeping, right? Brief check. No sleep-talker, or sleep-walker, or even wake up and leaver. Passed out. A-okay. Okay. Look around. Nothing.
Oh, shit. Oh, shit. Oh, shit.
Nothing.
Nothing means...Shit.
[Dane]
Sinking, slowly. It happens, every once in a while. The hope that if they can just melt into the bed, under the scrap of blanket not cocooned around the bed’s other occupant it will all go away. All the while the deep-seated knowledge that it’s a stupid idea flickers but is ignored because of that desperate need to be right, even though wrong. No, please. No, please. It was supposed to be over. Why isn’t it over?
Bathroom.
Streak away and bolt for the door. The bathroom is a hazard zone. It takes a moment for them to realize that the reason they didn’t even realize they owned men’s deodorant is—oh, wait, not my bathroom. Hello. That would do it. So, instead they scrabble around trying to remember if they actually hit the bathroom the night before and left things in there.
[Please tell me you’re not going to try again] the shadowy corner peels away folding in on itself until there could be shoulders and perhaps the impression of what could be a head, without features, properly, more like a…well, a shadow.
They try to not shake. Don’t scream. Don’t cry.
[We went through this before]
Pointless it’s all pointless and why the FUCK AREN’T THERE ANY CIGARETTES? “Please…” it’s a desperate attempt to even find any voice in the face of this, “Please, just leave me alone, please…” The face is wet and they can barely see, as their fingers clutch around a lighter, but nothing with it, “I know you’re not even here. Just please go away and leave me alone. I found him for you. You were supposed to leave me alone after that…please.” They slump down in front of the counter, not even caring that they’re sitting on stale, musty towels, which have been bunched up on the floor for at least a week, some discarded underwear, empty boxes of something. The shadow seems to be denser near their bare and slightly bruised feet. Wearing a several sizes too big eighties hair band shirt grabbed from a chair on the flight to the bathroom. A pair of jeans is near the toilet, one hand limply grabs for it and pulls it towards, hoping for a find, “Are you even still there? Did you just show back up to FUCK with me? Don’t you have anything better to do?”
[It was temporary and you knew that. Division made me easier to ignore. I’ve always been here]
“No,” a fervent head shake, “You had him and you were to leave me alone. What do you need two of us for? Surely that’s confusing. That confuses the fuck out of me…”
[Because you persist in thinking you’re human]
The head drops until the forehead is resting against the edge of the toilet bowl, and the body shakes still terrified, and at wits’ end.
[You still don’t take care of yourself]
“What’s the point? What’s the point? What do you need this time? Where are we going?”
[Back]
“Back? Back where? Back wha--?” she stumbles to her feet, waving a hand towards the far corner of the room, “Oh, no-no-no-no. I’m not going back there. I’m not going back there.”

“I’m going back there,” more decently dressed and actually with a cigarette, Dane finds herself throwing a bag across the front seat of Steve?’s car, and flopping down into the driver’s seat after several frustrated and angry mutter filled minutes of adjusting the setting so that she can actually reach the pedals, and then beating her head against the head rest for a little while. A brief, oh-so-brief, idea that perhaps she could just turn around and go the completely opposite direction, wind up in Alaska rather than where she was supposed to be going, but that wouldn’t work, and she knew it. She had the sinking feeling that even if she drove in the opposite direction somehow, by some trick of the universe all roads would go to Aurous anyway, and she’d—what was the point?
She leaned forward and fumbled for the ignition switch and pulled out, winding down the window and throwing several tapes out of the window as they proved to contain very, very crappy music.
The sign said 200 something miles. It was going to be a LONG night. She didn’t even know what time it was.