𝐀𝐂𝐓𝐔𝐀𝐋𝐈𝐓𝐘 - 𝑓. ℎ𝑎𝑟𝑔𝑟𝑒𝑒𝑣𝑒𝑠

013. ANCHOR THEORY

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ANCHOR THEORY ☂︎︎

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HER HEAD WAS ON THE VERGE OF EXPULSION as Allison helped her out of the car.

The pill now lay discarded on the backseat of the car, Charlotte's small secret revealed to the two siblings she had doubted would have ever noticed its use anyhow. Her vision was crippling; spores, shards, ripples, grain... they all clouded her vision but still, she refused any help from Grace.

He needed it more than her.

He would have argued the opposite.

She was stopped from following Grace up the stairs by Pogo who gripped her wrist. "Not now, child." he spoke. He dragged her to the small futon in the main hall, tears still falling from her eyes as her vision moved with a mind of its own. She wanted to follow him, those spare seconds she'd spent in hyperfixation on his wound providing a state of peace and certainty.

Pogo pressed a freezing cloth against her forehead, causing her to shiver. Thimble and heavily haired fingers held a cup of water up to her lips, allowing her small sips. He seemed surprisingly calm, as though he had done these exact actions many times before. The cloth helped little, causing a decrease to her pain but nothing more.

She wanted to see him but she waited patiently. Pogo's watchful eye didn't leave her till the evening and only then was she able to slip upstairs, mind inflamed and lightly tap on the door.

He turned weakly, a feeble smile on his face as she took to the chair beside his bed. "Took you long enough."

She sighed lightly. "Pogo wouldn't take his eyes off me. Plus, I can't have your family thinking I've gone soft."

He forced out a laugh. "No, we can't have that." he was silent for a moment and the question lingered in the air and she desperately wished to avoid it. "What happened to the top?"

Charlotte's lips thinned, the haunting feeling of the previous night washing over her. "I don't know." she said sadly. "After you left it just... wasn't there anymore."

His eyes turned cold. "I think I know who took it." he frowned. "I'm sorry."

She shook her head. "I had to get rid of it at some point."

The dim lighting made her drowsy. His room felt warm compared to the cold draft of the rest of the house. "How's your head?"

"Feels broken." she joked. "Everything looks like broken glass."

She didn't mention that she could see him clearly.

She was a firm believer that death beds were not the time for confession and amply applied this belief in the conversation despite his stable condition.

"How's the gunshot?" she asked, peering over to examine the gauze that coated the lower portion of his abdomen.

"You took care of a portion of it." he said. "Should have been a doctor."

"I'd make a shit doctor." she grinned.

"Well, you're also a raunchy shit high so there's that."

She laughed, her head hitting the back of the chair. "Am I really?"

"Yes." he scoffed although a grin was on his face. "Can you get me a coffee?"

"No." she chuckled. "You need rest."