Lot watched her get into bed and curl up in a ball. The panic feeling was briefly distracted by his heart breaking to see her here but hiding from him and from the sounds of his hiding from herself also. He left her be and instead began to pick up things from the floor. One by one the carpet beneath became visible and any thing broken he'd shifted to sit just a little way away from the door, he'd take those things out for her and repair what he could. When he saw the shattered mirror his head turned so quickly he could have given himself whiplash. Eating up the distance in less than four steps he grabbed at her arms and hands ignoring her protests and examined the skin. The bruises were cut, welted and bruised but the rest of her was in tact. He'd never seen it himself but he'd heard about a girl in the year below him who had decided to open her veins and take a trip to the other side. Her memorial had been up until the flowers rotted into the ground. He felt his panic increase, his breath heavy to match his heart.
He gasped his eyes searching her for something, anything he could recognise. "You're not crazy," he whispered, "You're not crazy," he repeated. What was he going to do now?