Re: In-person: Cris/Sam
[Thing is, she can't live in that place. She can't do hate as a regular thing. Like this outcrop of anger, it's sad, yeah? It comes with sobs and tears, and she doesn't like feeling it. She can't live in a place like this, not herself, and she knows she can't. It sucks everything good out, and it makes everything about the bad thing. She feels BAD. Not just angry, not rage or whatever, but BAD, like nothing in the world will ever shine bright again. Maybe that's rose-colored glasses or her being weak, and maybe she should be so used to the bad that it's like breathing air now, and no fucking big deal. But that's not her. No coping skills, that's what her therapist would say, but feeling like this isn't even about coping for Sam. It's just all black glut bloated, and she hates it.
So, yeah, she'll be sore and bruised, but that isn't the problem, yeah? The problem is she's not him. He works through it. She sucks at it, man, and it only makes her feel worse. Spent, yeah, and the adrenaline's good in the moment, but her chest heaves hard as he pushes palms to her belly, and she doesn't argue again, yeah? When he doesn't say anything about sitting down like she said.
She breathes hard, and she watched the gloves fall. She closes her eyes a second later, feeling his jaw rough against her cheek, and she breathes in shuddering gaspy strings of breath, like a kid after crying too long. It's pathetic, and she knows it's pathetic, but she feels low, yeah? So fucking low. And she hasn't even DONE anything to make anything better. Not even Meredith, yeah? She's in the same place she was when she started. Sam leans heavier against him, and she opens her eyes when he turns over her wrists.] Still think you did those and they're faded smaller. [She sounds tired in her denial, but still stubborn about it, like she needs the lie or something.] We were talking about Meredith. [Gutted, but trying to get it back on track, yeah? She can get it back on track. Exhale.] We should ask Lou to come stay. He can't be on his own anymore.
[And freed from the gloves, sweaty now in the air of the office, her knuckles are angry red and swollen thick, bruises starting but she doesn't even fucking notice.]