Make It Stop Who: Rylee & Charlie What: The aftermath of the demon in the lobby Where: Charlie’s apartment, 103 When: Following Charlie's exit from the lobby, and going until after midnight Notes:Placeholder for a Gdoc Completed. Warnings: Some swearing
Rylee knew that Charlie could take care of herself, she had always been that way and he knew she hadn’t changed that much. If at all. But that didn’t prevent Rylee from feeling some need to go after her and make sure she was all right. For their entire childhood, she had been the one to protect him; but now Rylee felt like the tables had changed, and that he owed it to her to return the favor. But the heroic edge to his first steps quickly died as he drew closer to Charlie. He kept seeing something out of the corner of his eye and each time he turned to look at it directly it seemed to vanish. Slithering, a shadow on the floor, and trailing after his steps.
It was just being in the darkened building that was causing him to see such things and none the less, he had Charlie to approach, which could be just as dangerous as the darkness around them. She continued to fumble in the darkness, Jack a mere shadow around her feet. “Charlie?” He called to her, his long strides quickly closing the distance between them. “Charlie, are you okay?” Either she was ignoring him, or something was very wrong. Jack’s ears perked and his head swiveled in Rylee’s direction, but Charlie was focused on the door and getting it open.
He reached Charlie and everything seemed to happen quickly after that. His extended his hand, he saw the shadow looping around his feet, and he touched Charlie’s shoulder. The droning was still going on, a drill echoing inside her skull - she needed to get inside, before the voices started again, as though the walls of her apartment would somehow block them out. Finally her apartment key came to hand, and she was in the process of fitting it into the lock when the hand brushed her shoulder. Instantly she dropped the key, knees bending and feet spacing themselves to fall into a classic stance of self-defense. Her body moved unconsciously, such a reaction drilled into her countless times at boot camp and through her multiple tours.
Fingers, free of any miscellaneous objects, curled into fists, wrist turning the hand upside down and finally the whole thing went flying toward the face of her attacker, whoever the poor idiot might be. The fist was moving towards Rylee’s face as he was already taking a step back, looking to the floor to see if he could catch sight of that shadow, and Charlie hit him square in the cheek. It surprised him and set him off balance but it was that shadow, coming in contact with the back of his left leg, which sent him to the floor.
Once, twice, it hit him and the pain went straight through his jeans. So sudden and unexpected that Rylee let out a near screaming yell as he dropped to the floor. Clutching his left leg and squeezing his eyes shut, he let out a loud groan. The back of his leg hurt as if he had been burned, but much more than any cooking accident burn he had experienced before in his life, he knew he should check it but couldn’t manage to move away from the near fetal position he had on the floor, his hands pressed firmly on his knees but not going any where near the back of his calf. Once more, from the corner of his eye, Rylee could see that shadow slither back towards the lobby of the apartment building, but for now Rylee didn’t care, he had all but forgotten Charlie as well, and could only concentrate on the excruciating pain.
Her hands clapped to her face in surprise, Jack pacing agitatedly in the sight of the recent violence. Charlie bent her knees crouching near Rylee - had she hit him? She felt her fist make contact with his face, but only minimally. Certainly not hard enough to drop him like this! And he was clutching at his leg; the droning killed all sounds of pain he might be making, and her own mouth gaped for a moment as she tried to piece together words that felt strange.
“Rye, are you...hurt?” The level of her voice was low, one hand tentatively reaching out to press into Rylee’s back. He was facing away from her, curled toward the wall - if she was the source of his pain, obviously he’d want nothing to do with her, but she couldn’t be certain until she had some kind of answer.
Rylee groaned slightly, clenching his teeth in a grimace and made a flinch from Charlie’s hand on his back. The touch didn’t make any additional burning feelings so it had been from that shadow, if that was even possible. Slowly he turned to look at Charlie, still making the grimace and he couldn’t manage to say much other than, “Burning.” He pulled at his pants leg, shouting as the jeans hit the back of his calf, and exposed the skin to show an already blistering burn on the back of his calf. He let out a shuttering sigh and squeezed his eyes shut again, unsure of what to do with himself as the pain still pulsed through his body.
Her eyes raced to the revealed leg, mouth grimacing at the sight of the wound. Ears were deaf to his screams, but they were there in the tightening of every muscle, the stress of every vein under Rylee’s skin. For a moment, her hands moved a breath’s inch above his burned flesh, but then she thought better of touching it.
“Don’t move,” she whispered, but whether her voice was audible or not was something she’d never know. Moving as quickly as she was allowed by her limited vision in the dark, she fumbled for her key and then quickly opened the door to her apartment. One hand grabbed Jack’s collar and pulled him over to the darkened threshold, and with one spoken word the dog was off into the living space to seek out any possible intruder that might have crept into it while Charlie was preoccupied in the apartment building’s lobby. After a minute she realized that she was holding her breath - her hands were resting on Rylee’s shoulders, completely unaware of the contact. Unsure whether to remove them or not, she froze, but was saved from the dilemma by the reappearance of her dog.
Assured that the apartment was empty, she hooked her hands under Rylee’s armpits and dragged him in a fireman’s hold (gently) through the threshold and into the kitchen.
Rylee didn’t fight Charlie has she tugged him along. Secretly, way back in his mind where the pain didn’t quite reach, he was impressed by her strength and curious by the commands she gave Jack. He knew post military life well enough to realize that Jack wasn’t just a pet. But at that moment, Rylee didn’t care. His leg was throbbing in a pulsing pain that was making his head ache and it wasn’t getting any better. He could feel his forehead breaking out into a sweat, his mind a bit dizzy as he took in a shaking breath, then he tried to keep his leg from hitting anything as Charlie brought him inside his apartment.
It was much more untidy than his own but at the moment, he didn’t care, it looked clean enough that the burn wouldn’t get infected. He could bother Charlie about cleaning when he wasn’t in excruciating pain. Grimacing once more as Charlie settled him against a counter, he tried to take in a breath but only felt the pulsing pain worsen, still he managed to groan to Charlie. “Are you okay though?”
Even if she hadn’t abruptly become deaf, she still might have missed his words. Bringing him into her apartment took careful, quick steps, finally leaving him to rest against one counter.
“Stay here,” she commanded, though there really wasn’t an option of him going anywhere else. She hurried to the bathroom, though the distance between it and the kitchen wasn’t great - inside were three towels, and she silently wished she had more. Reaching for the ones on the shelf next to the mirror slash medicine cabinet, her eyes caught themselves and the bare outline of her face in the mirror. The droning noise began to soften, and her free hand snatched at the sink. No, no, no, her mind chanted, but the voices were unmerciful.
”Anderson, take point, Pierrot, Garnier, and Fairica to follow once it’s clear.” A chorus of voices replied sir, yes sir, all in nearly perfect sync except for that of her own. Then, chatter. “Come on, Fairica, move that fine ass.” “I can take point if you’d rather stare at it, Anderson.” “You wish. Just watch all of ours, since you’ve been blessed with said task.” “Who the fuck had the chili at lunch? Pierrot, you have to stop eating anything they put on your plate.” A chorus of male voices snickered at her half-tried barb. The noise died as they approached the house, and Charlie knew what would happen next. Footsteps, the correct commands. Silence, the point moving ahead while Pierrot provided cover-
She realized that her grip on the sink was white-knuckled, even if she couldn’t see it completely in the dark. Snatching up the towels, she hurried back to Rylee outside, unsure how long she’d dallied in the bathroom.
Rylee had waited a moment while Charlie had disappeared, hoping she would hurry back, but she was taking too long and the pain was making him dizzy while he laid there. When Charlie returned, both hands gripped his calf and were careful not to touch the bubbling burn. By now his face was red from a mixture of clenching his jaw and the overall pain, his face drenched with sweat as he squeezed his eyes shut. He wasn’t sure what they should be doing right now, but a faint panicked voice in the back of his head was demanding a hospital, while Rylee’s more present thought was simply to find relief to it’s pain. He opened his eyes to see Charlie with some towels and he let out a small gasp of pain. “Charlie,” he groaned. “Help, please?”
Rylee wanted the pain to go away and he wanted it to go away now. All sense that she was helping him had vanished while that little voice in the back of his head continued to chant hospital with an occasional question of Well, what’s wrong with her?
The sight of Rylee in pain propelled her into motion. Voices temporarily forgotten and replaced once more by the abhorrent noise, she knelt by him and quickly propped up his leg on two of the towels, wrapping it as gently as she could manage in the third. Her sink offered a hose, which she used to wet the towel thoroughly with cold water, performing standard first aid on what looked like a second degree burn. What he really needed was a hospital, but she couldn’t very well drive her motorcycle let alone a four wheeled vehicle in her condition.
Hoping that her ministrations had given him some alleviation from the pain, she stood again, searching out her cell phone. She didn’t have a land line, there was no point in it. The placid blue glow of its screen shouted at her eyes, and dialing 911, she held it to her ear. It was no use, of course, because all she could hear was the droning. “Hello? Hello?! Shit!” Her own voice was lost in the buzzing sound, and she choked back tears. This was not the time to be so fucking useless! Before she realized what she was doing, she hurled the cellphone at the wall, effectively shattering it into two pieces.
Catching her hands on the counter, she sucked in a breath, trying to calm herself down; Jack, who’d been staying on the fringes of things, trying to comprehend what was going on, took this moment to approach and press a wet nose to her hip.
“Charlie,” Rylee moaned, reaching to tap her leg and get her attention. “Advil or something, do you have any?” He looked up at her, pleading with his blue eyes and pain still on his face. He slumped further down to the floor, keeping his foot propped up on the towels Charlie had placed on the floor and rubbing his head with his hands. He looked back up at her, studying her stance, realizing she had just broken her phone, and his face filled with concern. “Charlie, are you okay?” He leaned forward reached for her hand that was resting on the counter but felt the burn again, groaning with a low guttural pain, and not even coming close to touching her.
Jack distracted her for a moment, before she turned her attention back to Rylee. Kneeling down next to him, he was clearly still in pain. Pain killers! So stupid, she screamed at herself internally, and left Rylee again, though this time she made no comment. This time she returned much quicker with a bottle of advil. Adding to that a glass of water, she crouched down near him to offer the medication, wondering if she’d have to give it to him herself.
Rylee reached for the pills and with fumbling fingers grabbed them and tossed them into his mouth. He gripped the water and drank it quickly, finishing the glass and letting his head bump back into the cabinet again as he dropped his hands to his side, making the glass clang on the floor. He kept his eyes closed for a moment, the pulsing pain still making his head spin, but he reminded himself that Charlie was there and forced himself to open his eyes.
“What’s wrong?” Rylee grumbled. He reached for her shoulder and touched it gently. “Charlie, what’s going on with you? Are you okay?”
His mouth was moving, but it really didn’t make a difference - maybe she could make out one or two words (her name, the word okay), but that was all. Her face grimaced in frustration, and either the hand went unnoticed or she was uncaring of the contact, for once.
“What? I can’t understand - my ears, I can’t hear,” she tried to explain, a hand raising to touch one fleshy auditory device. She could only hope that her voice was working properly, and she motioned to his leg. “Does it still hurt? I...” What could she say? I was so frustrated that I destroyed my phone, the one thing that would have allowed me to call the paramedics? She was about to say that she could go back out to the lobby, ask someone for a phone or to help get Rylee into someone’s car. Charlie was incredibly unfamiliar with asking for help in any regard, but it was quickly becoming more and more clear that she could not handle this on her own.
But the voices in her head had other ideas. Again the droning cleared, and she clapped hands to her ears in an attempt to stop this evolution. Her mouth dribbled a chant of no, no, no, but the voices appeared all the same.
It was different from the last two times; she didn’t recognize any of the voices. And yet she did - something about them was strikingly familiar.
A deep, velvety dark voice, matched by a lighter one that, somehow, reminded her of bright stars in a black sky. The voices were comforting, a million times comforting, in the way that a child grows used to the expectation of being tucked in by their parents. For seven years, Charlie had had that experience, before it abruptly stopped, but she could still remember the feeling.
Eyes wide, she stared in the direction of a cabinet, her mind quite obviously elsewhere than in the kitchen, next to Rylee as he writhed on the linoleum floor in pain.
Rylee was exhausted, the pain was making his head muddled and he felt feverish, but he could see the obvious panic on Charlie’s face and what she said worried him. Their mutual wounds occurred at the same time - but from what? The confusion was quickly pushed aside in favor of reaching for Charlie again, taking her hands and trying to tug her closer to him to sit down by his side. He wanted her to be close for some comfort from his pain but also to be near her and maybe, if possible, comfort her as well. He remained silent as he did so, feeling there wasn’t too much of a point to talk if she couldn’t understand. He pointed at his leg, shifting his hand back and forth to say it hurt but wasn’t that bad anymore. The pills were kicking in, that and his body was finally just going into some level of shock, his brain becoming numb to it. Or it could be the developing fever. Either way, for the moment, Rylee’s pain wasn’t as great as his concern for Charlie.
“We need a pen and paper,” Rylee said, then immediately his pale lips tugged down into a frown as he realized she wouldn’t be able to understand. He motioned to be writing on paper, raising an eyebrow at Charlie, hoping she understood.
His subtle handling of her went unnoticed, same with the earlier touches, because her mind was so enthralled with what she was hearing. They weren’t speaking with words, necessarily, or emotions, something more...primeval. But it spoke to something inside of her, something that struggled to answer back but was incapable because it lacked their vocabulary - it was too young to know, but it would learn in time.
And then they faded away, leaving Charlie feeling empty. She missed the voices, the ache in her heart familiar as the day... But the self pity was thrown away as she noted Rylee motioning at her, making an invisible pen to write on invisible paper. She blinked, glancing at his face and then back to his hands before it sunk into her mind just what he was getting at. Writing! Of course, why hadn’t she thought of that? Wiping at her face with the back of her hand (When had the tears started? How had she not noticed the wetness on her face?), she stood up again to reach around on the counter. Eventually she returned to the floor with a sharpie and offered him her arm; this was what she’d always done to take notes, it was simple and quick.
With the blank canvas of her right arm held before him, her left shoulder leaned into the cabinet, her eyes wide in the darkness to try and see if what she’d done for him was having any effect at all.
Rylee frowned, not wanting to cover her pale arm in pen marks, but he knew better than to argue with her and uncapped the sharpie. Gently he took her arm, pausing to wipe his sweaty forehead with the back of his hand, then wrote on her arm in a small print.
It hurts really badly. I don’t know how I got the burn; the pills are helping but I still feel dizzy. It just happened in the hall. I saw something go past. What is happening to you? You can’t hear but there is something else going on. Did you see the thing too?
He stopped writing and looked at Charlie with concern. Her eyes followed the soft strokes of the pen, her skin tingling from the sensation; his grip was light but firm, and yet she totally dismissed the contact. “What’s happening to me? I can’t hear - I mean, I can, but not voices? Is this even making sense...” She mumbled the words, unsure of her volume. He couldn’t do much of anything for her right now and he knew it but still, if there was something, he had to ask.
He reached up cautiously and wiped a thumb at her cheek to remove some of her tears; she blinked, her head shying away unconsciously for protection before landing gently against his hand again. Her eyes flicked to his, aware now that he was seeing her cry, and disliking it instantly. He had seen her upset before, mostly after she and her father had fought, and of course the time he had told Charlie he was leaving the Corps. But this was different, it was more of a frightened reaction than anything, and Rylee wished he could take that fear from Charlie.
What can I do?
Grimacing as another throbbing of pain from the burn pulsed through his leg, he let his head rest against the cabinet again, holding his breath while he waited for it all to pass. All she could do was sit there and watch, thinking about his question. Between the two of them, she was the one who should be doing something!
“Fuckin’ hell, Rylee, I’m trying to do something! Look, I can go back out to the lobby, get someone to call-” Her anger was bubbling up, getting the better of her before being replaced with a paralyzing fear. She couldn’t walk out that door, if she opened that door, it would be Iraq all over again. The door was keeping the explosive from them, turning the handle would cause detonation. Charlie’s gaze was held fast by the doorknob, a thin sheen of sweat becoming apparent on her skin.
“Charlie, Charlie,” Rylee was calling to her, reaching out and grabbing hold of her shoulders, and the quick movement made his head swim. She couldn’t hear him, of course, but he had to stop her from being so frightened. The pills were starting to do their job, that or enough time was passing to allow the pain to ease slightly, but he felt a little less like sawing off his leg than he did before.
He kept his hands firmly grasping her shoulders then reached for the sharpie again and taking her arm to write on. Stay here with me, the burn isn’t growing in pain or anything, and I would rather not move. I just want to lay down. What are you hearing exactly? Honestly, Charlie. Focusing on Charlie and her problems right now was helping Rylee to not pay attention to his throbbing, blistering burn.
The writing on her arm forced her to pull her eyes away from the door knob, but the fear was still there in the back of her mind, looming dangerously. She read the words, shaking her head.
“No, if I say, you’re gonna think I’m crazy,” she began, one hand coming up in denial. He made the period mark after her name with a little more emphasis and a narrowing of his eyes as he looked at her. He knew she liked to back pedal and avoid any talk of subjects that could make her appear weak but now wasn’t the time for that. “I mean, crazy people hear voices, and that is not... I mean, it could be...”
The hand that had risen went to her face, wiping away the moisture dripping into her eyes. “I’m sorry, all right? I... I keep hearing this.... This buzzing, and then sometimes.... Voices? I fuckin’ swear I’m not going crazy.” The last part was mumbled as her attention went back to the door, eyes wide in fear. Her heart beat crazily against her ribcage, as though a jackrabbit were trying to hammer its way out. Unconsciously, she scooted a little closer to Rylee, the slight contact of hips reassuring.
Rylee made hushing noises and brushed at Charlie’s hair; a small part of him that couldn’t be silenced by the confusion or pain was pleased that she came closer to him. He pulled off the pen cap once more and this time wrote on his own arm in big letters. I don’t think you’re crazy and I never will. You aren’t crazy. He offered her his arm silently so that she could read his reply then capped the pen again as he cautiously brought an arm around her shoulders and pulled her closer still.
The words gave her pause for a moment, lips tightening. “It’s ‘cause of my mind. The voices. I didn’t tell you...” Her thoughts trailed off, distracted once again by her worries. She leaned into him, reassured for the moment, her mind overworked and her body starting to shut down from mental exhaustion. Her mind wanted her to stay awake and alert, to make sure no one opened the door, but her body was having other ideas.
He slipped down a little more to a more comfortable position, allowing Charlie to follow if she wanted to, but he needed to lay down and he didn’t mind that it was on the floor. He had slept in more uncomfortable positions while in the Corps. But he hoped Charlie would follow, lay down, and relax. He’d keep her safe to the best of his abilities. Jack took up a post at their feet, laying close by to be sure that he was there if needed. Eyes strained to keep their view on the door, but her lids suddenly felt incredibly heavy. Head nodding to hit Rylee’s shoulder, she struggled for another few long minutes to keep them open, but it was a losing battle.
Rylee was taken by surprise when Charlie’s head tipped onto his shoulder but it quickly brought a small smile to his face. He pulled her close to his body, wrapping both arms around her before he scooted down further, taking her with him, and rested his own head on hers. He remained like that for a moment, watching Jack stare at him then chew aggressively on his paw, then the stress of the day mixed with the still throbbing pain of the burn made Rylee’s own eyes close.
* * *
He quickly fell asleep and woke up hours later with the early morning sun filtering through Charlie’s windows. He had a stiff back and an ache in his neck but Charlie was there, curled up beside him, and his arms were around her. He couldn’t help but grin until the memory of how they had gotten into this position came back to him. He had been burned and she had lost her hearing: it wasn’t a dream, here they were. But the burn wasn’t throbbing and with careful movement of his leg Rylee discovered that there wasn’t a burn even there. It was gone, apparently vanished. Quickly he checked his other leg, accidentally jostling Charlie awake as well, but to his amazement the burn wasn’t there either. There was no burn. It had vanished.
The noise Charlie made at being awoken so rudely would have been fearsome coming from a bear. Instead, Charlie rolled over to her side and blinked, eyes slowly adjusting to the light filling the room. Slowly she sat up, trying to remember how the hell she’d fallen asleep on her kitchen floor. Glancing to the side produced Rylee, and suddenly it all came back - except her hearing hadn’t. Once again her hands clapped her ears, but she still couldn’t hear anything more than the droning sound, and fingers curled to clench into fists in her frustration.
“Fucking damnit!” Her own dissatisfaction with her senses pushed all other worries out of her mind, including the concern over Rylee’s injury, and instead she gave a slap to one side of her head, as though pressing more injury on herself would repair the issue, like hitting a faulty television prone to nothing but bad reception.
“Woah, woah, woah,” Rylee said in a voice that was nearly a yell for him. It came natural to talk, even if Charlie couldn’t hear him, but now without his injury getting in the way he moved with ease to reach out and grab Charlie’s hands. He held them tightly in his own, overpowering her to keep her from hitting herself, and stared directly in her eyes. “You didn’t get your hearing back?” He said it more to himself than to her. He had thought, for only a brief moment, that maybe since his burn was gone her hearing had returned. Frowning he glanced around for the pen he had been using the night before.
She struggled against his grip, her face registering exactly how she felt about being denied her own self-made remedy. His lips were moving, but as before, she couldn’t hear anything. Trying to pull her wrists free took her mind off of the drone for a few precious moments, though her anger quickly took the place of the worry. “I...can’t...fucking...hear...you!” Each word was spoken with emphasis, but it was little use against a man who lifted weights daily and was much too focused on her safety. Finally she gave in with a groan, her face red with the strain of trying to free herself.
“Where’s your fucking burn? You were crying about it last night! Maybe it wasn’t that bad, huh?” The venomous words were more of an attempt to continue keeping her panic and fear at bay, covering it up with familiar anger. And if it got Rylee to let go of her wrists, that was a plus, too. It would also serve to keep him distracted from asking questions - and they said having an unlikeable personality was a bad thing.
Eyes narrowing slightly, he tightened his hold on Charlie’s wrists and brought his face close to hers. “It was obviously painful enough if you helped me,” he snapped, surprising even himself at his reaction and immediately feeling guilty- even if she couldn’t hear what he had said. He let go of her wrists and moved away, rubbing a hand through his hair before spotting the pen from last night. He grabbed hold of it and looked at Charlie’s arms, then his own; both had pen marks on them and he didn’t want to keep on writing on one another. Free of his hold, her hands massaged her wrists even though he’d done nothing to harm her; his curious glances made her inspect her own arms, seeing his handwriting on the left arm.
Getting to his feet, he tested the leg that had been burned and saw that it was as good as new; Charlie watched him carefully, noting the tenderness he used on the leg and realizing that the wound had been real - Rylee had never been that good of an actor. Moving through Charlie’s kitchen he welcomed himself to digging around her drawers for some spare paper. Finally he found a memo pad and returned to the floor beside Charlie, forcing himself not to acknowledge her presence until he finished writing. I hope I didn’t hurt you, I’m sorry. I don’t know what happened to the burn but it’s gone, look for yourself. Are you still hearing things? What didn’t you tell me? You had said something last night.
Looking from the paper to the floor, she tried to recall what she’d said. Giving a slow nod, she forced herself to make eye contact with him. “What was I supposed to say? ‘Rylee, I’m hearing voices, call the paddy wagon,’ or whatever it’s called. I don’t hear them now, it’s just...this buzzing. Like... Like a room full of machines or something.” She went quiet, a tidbit of guilt worming its way through the back of her mind. He’d done nothing but try to help her, and here she was, acting like a complete bitch again.
“It might be...because...because’a the PTSD.” Admitting it felt stupid, and her voice kept the words hushed, eyes instantly lowered again to the floor. The voices, at least, could be explained by her disorder, but the buzzing wasn’t. Despite the idiocy she felt that was born of the macho nature drilled into her by her superiors, it was one less thing she was hiding from him. “When I hear the voices, it’s yours and mine, the...the fight. And then my squad, just before the accident. And then somethin’ else, but I don’t know what.” Once she’d admitted the hardest part, explaining more seemed only natural.
Rylee listened patiently as Charlie admitted her dark secret. He wasn’t entirely surprised that Charlie was suffering from PTSD. He had witnessed enough of his Marine friends go through the different stages and the memory of how Charlie had commanded Jack to search the apartment had been an obvious sign. At the time, Rylee was in too much pain to register just what it meant, but now it was all clear. Surprised by her tell-all? No. Instead he felt some twist of sadness for his best friend, and he had never stopped considering her as such, because she had been injured in a way that he could not have helped to prevent and what was worse, there was nothing he could do to help her now.
Well, the fight is over and in the past. If you hear it again, just realize that I’m here and you don’t have to worry. I don’t know what I can do for the other voices but tell me what I can do, okay? It will be okay, Charlie. I’ll try to make it all okay. He handed her the memo pad again, keeping his eyes on her for her reaction to what he said with a slight frown on his face. She took the notepad in hand, eyes scanning the words quickly. Part of her wanted to just throw it back in his face, her usual reaction for such things. Instead, she let it dip from her hand, the whole appendage eventually landing on the floor.
“Must be nice to be able to think that way, huh?” She let her spirits dampen for a moment, before bouncing back and covering it all up with her usual attitude. “And I ain’t going to no hospital. Fuckers said I had this shit last time, who knows what they’ll come up with now.” Charlie pointed an accusing finger at Rylee, though he’d have to pick her up and sling her over his shoulder to get her out the door. Looking to Jack, who had been watching the whole scene with some trepidation, she gently slapped the floor in a motion for him to come closer. The dog covered the space quickly, coming to a rest on the linoleum next to her, tongue panting happily.
“Maybe you could just...” Addressed to Rylee, her voice trailed off for a moment as her eyes seemed to try and search something out on the ground. “Just sit with me for awhile? Your burn went away. Maybe this’ll go away too.” Lifting her gaze from the floor, she watched him carefully, almost distrustfully.
“Of-” He cut himself off and his cheeks reddened slightly. He grabbed the notepad and scribbled quickly on it. Of course I’ll stay with you. And damn right you aren’t going to a hospital. Would you like me to make you some breakfast? He tossed the pad at her and sat down firmly on the ground, crossing his arms over his chest and waiting for her reply. His heart was twisting with all of this, but he wasn’t going to abandon her, not now or ever. He’d be here until she asked him to go away. She wasn’t sure if he meant to be sarcastic or not, but his agreement with her lack of desire to be checked out by a medical official made her snort. Letting the pad fall to the floor again, she gave a nod.