The space outside the windows is nothing but foreign land; deep, dark bruising forms of shrubs and a scratched out sky - layered with lines of dust and polluted with clouds. Sun spills in, gliding past the protruding forms and falling through glass, engulfing the dull gray sheets with greed, trying to swallow them whole.
"Lisbon," He says, standing about a foot from her bedside.
Her head shifts in the pillows, slivers of hair scrapping against her cheeks. She collects a section of pillow and crams it underneath the base of her skull, the ruffles of fabric filling the space for conversation.
"Lisbon," He repeats, and then softer. "Teresa."
The edges of her lips twitch, her chest expands, pressing against the confinement of the sheets. She inhales and exhales a few times; eyelids fluttering every few seconds, lashes slicing through the dust. She swallows, and slowly the words begin to trickle past her lips.
"I thought this was supposed to be a safe house."
The man at her bedside frowns, light falling into the curve of his brow; giving false warmth to his features and skin. His eyes narrow, just a slant, the deep blues turning to an earthy gray. "It is." He replies, his voice lapping around the center of the floor. He steps forward, turning, and then carefully sitting on the edge of the bed. A few inches away from the crook of her knees. "Why would you say that?" He whispers, this time his voice slinks around the room like a wounded dog, desperate to come closer, but afraid too do so.
She shifts in the bed, tucking fabrics underneath her arm when she rolls. The bags of purple underneath her eyes turn to lighter shades of violet when her face hits the light; the color you see when the sun first begins to rise, but hasn't yet breached the surface. A hint of something more. Her hair is a nest of mangled twigs; pressed into her skin, fallen within the fabric lines and all the while still trying to escape her flesh.
She blinks, clears her throat; once warm brown eyes turned dull - assumed to be chocolate revealed to be nothing more than clumps of dirt, pathetic ones at that.
"Because Jane," Her tone resinates - floats above the sunlight curling into the room, calls and beckons the dog closer; gets it to come to her side.
"You're here."