Re: [No. 3 to No. 24: Iris & Sam]
The town was wrong. She'd barely seen it in the time between the mob and the laundromat, but she knew it was wrong. Crouched on the sidewalk, it was wrong. Pavement that should have been one color of grey wasn't right, smoother than it should have been, and Iris found herself peering through tear-blurred eyes to try to make sense of it all.
The fingers around hers were a surprise, but she didn't jolt at the touch, knew now that it was Sam, remembered how Sam liked to reach out. And she could handle that. It wasn't what she was used to, but she could handle it. She just needed another second.
And she knew that it wasn't fair to Sam, Iris being curled up on the sidewalk. She knew that she needed to stand up and pull herself together. Sam was younger, Sam had been hurt, and even if she'd been trying to do her best to not coddle, to treat Sam with respect and with the belief that Sam wasn't a victim. She didn't know how well she actually did with it. But she knew that even with all that, she couldn't keep putting all of her own issues onto her sister. Another misstep on her part.
A breath, ending in a shallow cough because of how shaky and tight her throat still was, but it was enough for her to be able to unfold, keep her balance and get back to her feet. Her fingers wrapped tight around Sam's as she pushed it all down, everything, all the things she'd admitted to and thought about, pushed them all to the back of her mind (even though she knew - her doctors had told her - that pushing it down only made it more dangerous later). She was still in rough shape, no one would doubt that if they saw her, but it was enough for her to function. "Okay. ...okay..." Soft, a whisper, mostly to herself. "Okay..." But then a broken little smile. "Sam, I don't speak Spanish..."