Who: Jude What: Narrative Where: P2 When: After this Warnings: Very bad things.
Her father had called.
Jude's father was an asshole; he always had been. So the terse greeting he'd given her (after not talking to her in two months) was no surprise. After all, her cellphone number hadn't changed, and Jude was a little miffed at him for not calling in all this time to check on his little heiress. He probably felt guilty about squandering her inheritance on other rich men's wives.
By the time he called, Jude had the apartment cloaked in near darkness, every mirror in the place turned over or taken down. Salacia had taken to hiding from her, and she could practically feel herself falling apart.
Cole.
She knew that was his name now; she'd seen it on the forums.
Cole.
Cole could help her.
He loved her, and he'd take care of her, and he'd never let anything happen to her, and if she was having memories about him pushing her down a set of stairs those were clearly delusions, because no one who loved her like he did would do that.
Her father had yelled. He'd yelled about sending the police, about her stealing her own money. He'd even claimed the cellphone was stolen. She'd laughed, and she'd cried, and she'd almost remembered, and her skin flaked as tears streamed down it.
She needed Cole. Her fingers were turning black, and she could see it, even in the dark, even with her eyes (which were dry, dry like sandpaper, despite the tears) closed.
Cole would take her to the doctor. Cole would help. Everything would be fine. Cole, who'd managed to see through the facade of bitchiness built after a lifetime spent constructing it to keep things that could hurt out.
Cole who never, ever hurt her. (The memory of the stairs, of falling, of hurt hurt hurt sharp and hurt)
Cole.
She'd left the apartment, a reluctant Salacia in her arms, and she'd made the long, long walk to Cole's apartment. By the time she got there, she'd forgotten why she'd gone. Her hair was hanging in front of the newly-mottled skin of her face, and she let Salacia fall in front of the door.
Cole. Her Cole. Cole who loved her. Cole who she loved. Cole. Cole. Cole.
She knocked, but before the door opened she'd forgotten everything she had left. She banged against the door, and she cried, and she didn't comprehend anything - not words, not sounds, not even Salacia hissing at her feet.
It was all gone.
The last thing she remembered, was the one word she said as the door opened, as the cat raced into Cole's apartment.