There’s no way down.
Downstairs. That means out the door, out of bed, out from behind the curtains and out of a mind which has felt oh-so-warm over the last forever and a half. Warm and soft and safe. As it ought to be.
Leahy could feel it from the tips of her fingers to the peaks of her goosebumps.
They were waiting for her. Friends, or so she wanted to believe, but she wasn’t an idiot and knew full well that they were out for blood just as much as the next person. Was it her place to care? Yeah, probably, Leahy thought, letting blonde hair sift between her fingers overhead, golden locks trickling between the cracks in her palm and sparkling like the surface of Bristol Bay. Sandy, rocky, crumbling, she thought, letting hair tickle her face like the chill of arctic waters, cool, crisp, sharp to the touch and more real than ever before, filling the girl with the inexplicable sensation of life.
Smooth. And soft. Sleek. And ragged.
Like water, she was alive.
She was alive.
Alive, she thought, pressing her fingers to her forehead and letting her lungs swell with the trepidation she worked so hard to kill. Not something you can aim at. Lock on. Designate hostile and call for a shot.
Feelings were hard. Leahy smiled and wondered how soon she would take to laughing, not knowing why, wondering why the sun rose and painted her face and air and room, over and over, breaking through the slits in curtains that cursed the door to the porch. Glass, she thought, like eyes, she concluded, inching up from her pillow and relieving herself of a long-awaited yawn.
Alive, she thought, pressing her fingers against her chest, against the pajamas that felt too familiar, now more than ever, and with her eyes between the curtains she spied the sun, as reliable as ever, shimmering its familiar warmth over the unknown waves of today.
Vanilla. The scent swelled under her chest, beneath her palms, the rising and falling of her life giving birth to the realization that today wasn’t her first day.
Not the last, she hoped, slithering to the edge of her blankets to steal one last breath from the safety of the night.
Leahy was born to a world that cared too much.