Re: [Club: Hannah and Caspar]
She was freaking out. She was, and it was more than that. Time was a thing slipping backward, and she was confused. She was always confused, but it was something calmness kept at bay, that stillness kept contained, and right now she felt neither. The well was empty, and time was a thing that slipped back and back to a huge house with a curved staircase and a banister. She touched her neck, seeking a rope beneath trembling fingers.
She stared. He was talking, and she stared. Marcus had been charming. He'd been the kind of charming that had made everyone in her family love him. He'd been so, so good at shaking hands and giving that earnest-seeming smile, that handsome face seemingly genuine and kind, but she'd never seen that in his dad. His dad had always seemed ruthless to her, and it hadn't really taken very long to learn how they were cut from the same cloth.
Standing there, time reversed, revolved, stood still. She shook. Her fingers trembled. She felt cold, and she couldn't move really. It was like those nights when her head was awake, but her body wouldn't move, and she would rather see the bent-neck lady than him. It wasn't his fault, and she knew that, and she knew there were better ways to handle thing. Or she had known, but now she really didn't know anything. It was an overload, and it was a system that had already been outgrowing the changes that had been forced onto the downloaded algorithm that was her. It was overload and rewind, and she blinked at him too rapidly and with tears collecting at the corners of her eyes.
"I... Just... You can't...," and she knew that wasn't very persuasive. She knew, she knew, she knew, and she couldn't... She spun around, brown hair grazing his cheek from her closeness to him, and she did the most obvious thing, the least thought out one, the one with the least sense behind it: She ran. She weaved, weaved, weaved her way through the people. It was hot. Hot and stifling, even with the chills and shakes, but she needed air. Real air. Outside air that wasn't being gulped in by everyone in the club. Outside, she bent over, hands on her thighs, and she hurled.