Re: log: dahl/connie at B&B
She remembered thinking--it wouldn't hurt, right? Getting hit by a car had to be one of the more painful ways to go, but she wouldn't feel a thing. That was how fucked up she was. How fucked up whatever had happened in--in the room--had left her.
So when she opened her eyes again, she was convinced--just for half a second--that she was dead. Weird. The afterlife totally looked like Connie's living room.
Wait--
Dahlia jolted upright, her heart racing, still absolutely fucking wired off of adrenaline and whatever else coursing through her veins. She scrabbled to her hands and knees, eyes darting around like a panicked animal while she shook from the panicked comedown, teeth chattering violently. It was--what the--there hadn't been an impact. She still would've felt that, but now she just remembered someone--something--grabbing her--phantom pains burned, quieter this time, across her temples and her stomach--
And then someone said something, and everything abruptly turned on its head. Dahlia didn't really hear what she said at first, because all her brain did was loudly ping Connie--best friend, spooky nerd, important, alive??, and safe--so she did the first thing her rattled head could put together: she pounced, crashing into Connie for a strong-armed hug. Maybe one that was extremely overdue. It used to be more like this, right? She remembered a time--a very long time ago--when she'd lean on her friend, or hang off of her shoulders, or give hugs freely, because that was just what she did. Natural as everything else between them. But that was fifteen years ago. Ever since she'd come back into town, Dahlia had only been skittish and awkward, flinching away from the most casual of physical affection. Like she didn't know how to do it anymore.
Turns out she still gave decent hugs, even if she clung to Connie like she was drowning. But, probably because it was good, it didn't last.
"Wh--wait--" The words finally registered like, a whole five seconds later. Dahlia abruptly pulled back, hands on Connie's shoulders, and saw that guilt. She couldn't remember her friend ever looking apologetic before. But, then again, her pranks were always harmless. Right? "You--what?"
Hurt and confused, she stared like she was still waiting for the punchline. But--there was also rising anger, flashing like a warning sign in her eyes. The idea that Connie would do something so incredibly fucking stupid as dosing her was as difficult to believe as anything she'd just--dreamed?--hallucinated? But her insides twisted, because it made a sick sort of sense. More than jumping space and time ever would. So the odds for understanding the truth? Were suddenly not looking great.