There was no hope of any sleep tonight.
As Tanith Low sat on the edge of the bed, she shook, hands clawing desperately at her scalp, her shoulders, her arms. The stale mascara tracks were recarving with the fresh tears escaping from her eyes. She was going insane with the fear. And it wasn't just fear; it was pure gnawing terror, whirling its way round in the pit of her stomach.
They'd promised to stay with her, but she needed some time to let go. The façade that she showed on the outside was dropping, and she knew it. She told them to leave. Valkyrie had obliged, though not without a fuss. Skulduggery refused. He was probably outside, listening through the door to every sound she made. But he really shouldn't even have bothered trying. When someone battled through a childhood like Tanith's, the technique of crying without a sound was well known to them.
When she felt all her tears had escaped, she silently stood up and turned to the mirror. Tanith reached for a packet of makeup wipes and pulled one out, sweeping it over the stained parts of her face with all the nonchalance she could muster. She was soon satisfied that she looked at least slightly less destroyed than she felt inside.
Tanith stepped over to the door and swung it open, nearly removing Skulduggery's head from his bony shoulders. She glanced at him dully, then sat down in an armchair by the fire. Skulduggery regarded her for a few moments, then spoke softly.
'Hot chocolate?'
'Please.'
Yeah, I'm back. And here, making my return, is a story of extreme angst, little humour (although there will be some), and a pairing I have never worked with before.
Reading is good. Reviewing lets the author know it's good.