Chapter Text
You dream of eating a rotten apple.
The flesh is mushy, disgusting, and the skin sticks to your gums and teeth. Despite this revolting taste and texture, you eat the rotten apple whole.
It goes down with ease at first. Your throat clenches; it wishes to expel what you just ate, but you force the rest down. You swallow bile.
Your stomach burns, it hurts. The acid eats away at your insides, you feel your body destroying itself from the inside.
You gasp. Your face is wet and you can’t breathe.
“-frin! Siffrin!”
Above you, Mirabelle stares directly into your eye.
You choke on your own vomit, and in your efforts to try and swallow it, you lean over to the side and dry heave. You cough and hack but nothing other than your spit leaves your body.
Mirabelle is speaking but you can’t listen. You can’t be back, you can’t be. Your fingers itch for your dagger, they’re begging to stab into flesh, to slice through something so fragile and delicate, and rid yourself of this blinding life.
You let out a sob, everything hurts. It’s a constant throbbing ache, you can’t escape it, it pulses throughout your entire body and you shake with pain.
And then someone hugs you..?
That isn’t part of the script, they think you hate touch, that you’re afraid of it.
Despite this, warm arms embrace you, and you smell a fruity perfume.
It’s Mirabelle, you faintly process. She’s still here. Something’s wrong, she would usually go and find someone else, leaving you to wallow in your own misery of failure before looping back to pretend everything’s okay.
“Siffrin, Siffrin, it’s okay I promise, you’re not back there, you’re okay.” Her voice shakes like she’s trying to keep it together.
You hug back as hard as you can, breathing in her comforting smell. You still sob, little broken whines and hiccups escaping your pathetic mouth. You’re sure her shoulder is covered in tears by now.
“It’s okay… It’s okay…” She repeats it like a mantra, rubbing circles into your back. You sniffle.
Everywhere she touches you aches, and you feel real.
You’re on a bed, blankets wrapped around you. The mattress shifts under the weight of the two of you, and Mira is wearing her pajamas. The bonnet is keeping her hair nice and tucked away, and there’s a wet spot on her shoulder.
Somewhere far off, you think about how you don’t deserve this kind of treatment. Not after all you did to them.
There are tears stuck to your eyelashes. You try to blink them away, to hide them from anyone who could possibly see you so vulnerable and small, but all it does is make them slide down your flushed face.
You’re not there, you’re not there, you’re not there. You’re free.
You breathe in again, cold air scratching your raw trachea, and apologize.
“I’m sorry.”
She pauses – she probably hates you, she’s going to leave now that you’re okay, she’s going to – and tilts her head, pulling back to look at you.
“For what?” Her eyes are puffy and dark, little bags around them.
Looking at her, you feel your face warming.
“Um.. Waking you up?” You try, and you look away from her face. You don’t think you could handle any kind of rejection right now – not that you would blame her, your traitorous mind adds.
“Siffrin. You were sobbing in your sleep.” She grabs your face and stares directly at you. Her eyebrows are furrowed and her face is stern.
“I-I’m sorry,” You desperately add. “I didn’t mean to, you can go back to sleep.” You rip her hands away and curl in on yourself. You’re fine now, you rub your eye to dry it of any tears, and then smile at her. The remnants of her warm hands cling to your skin, begging for that gentleness back.
“Siffrin! That’s not what I mean!” She huffs, and you flinch. Mira doesn’t notice it. “I mean that I was worried about you and wanted to make sure you were okay. Because I care about you.”
Your spine hurts from how you’re holding yourself. You wish you were like a cat, that you could hide and make yourself twice as small. A confused whine slips from your mouth, embarrassingly enough.
“I’m sorry…”
“I don’t want you to apologize, I want to make sure you’re okay and I don’t want to hear any of your excuses!!” She grabs your hands and holds them tightly. “We’re feelings buddies, right?”
You sniffle again. Reluctantly, you nod.
“Okay, so what’s wrong?” Mira’s voice is smaller now, like she’s trying not to scare you off into hiding in your little shell.
“...You scared me.” You bury your head into the blankets.
Her eyes soften, filled with worry.
“I’m sorry, how did I do that?”
You bite down the urge to burrow into the blankets and never speak again. You chew on the inside of your mouth. Loop told you to talk to them.
“...That’s how every loop started. You would wake me up by saying my name.” The words feel bitter on your tongue, they feel like poison, like you’re showcasing your rotten heart to the world and expecting praise.
To your surprise, however, she hugs you again. Disgustingly, you find comfort in her touch. You think about infection, and spreading your ‘disease’ onto her pure form. You taste copper on your tongue.
“I’m sorry…” She whispers, delicately. You think of plum flowers.
“‘S not your fault…”
“It’s not yours either!! Now that I know that, I won’t wake you up like that again, okay? It’s neither of our faults.” She speaks with such determination, it almost makes you believe her.
You don’t think you have the energy to argue with her, so you just nod.
She inhales, and exhales.
“Okay. Are you alright?”
You nod again. You want her touch back, but you would never ask for that.
Mira closes her eyes, and you think about leaning back onto her shoulder.
The rest of you screams about taking advantage of her, manipulating her into touching you. She probably washes her hands every time she gets near you, cleaning herself and getting rid of your dirt.
You take in a shaky breath, and you can’t stop yourself from asking.
“..Can you touch me?”
You’re ready to throw up for real this time.
However, she pulls you in, making herself comfortable at the headrest of the bed. You lay your head on her lap.
“Of course,” Mira whispers, and she drags her hands through your hair. Her nails slightly scratch your scalp, and you shiver. She trails down to the nape of your neck. You don’t remember a time someone has been so gentle.
Her nails are sharp, and you think about her breaking skin, digging into your windpipe and suffocating you. Those thoughts, however, fade away. You’re too tired to care about them, you’re currently falling asleep with one of your family members.
You mumble something, you’re not sure what, but Mira responds just a second later.
“I love you too, Siffrin.”