She stood facing the open mouth of the hallway like she always did. Arms crossed, legs together, lips tight, willing herself to become a shield.
Hair made of stainless steal, nails clear daggers, heart broken.
world of pain + dumped on me = sad
That one she didn't have to earn a degree to understand, but as she heard the drone like tune of four feet synchronized in their clap on the ugly tile , she erased the me and replaced it with us.
world of pain + dumped on us = sad
Same answer- but this time it was correct.
A+. 100%.
Daddy! Daddy! Come look at my report card! Look at how much I've learned! Look at how much I've lost! Look at all the blood I've shed.
She looks at her hands she sees them drip red and she knows that it's not there and that she has been cleaned and rinsed in antiseptic and cleaned and cleansed and gauzed and stitched and cleansed but she still feels it there and it's warm and she hates it and she loves when they go somewhere cold because then her hands numb and so does her mind and she forgets about how much blood she's had to try and keep inside her body before help arrived and it's also why she snapped at Mulder those times when he would tell her she really needed to put gloves on and now he doesn't say anything about it and she feels bad but he just keeps handing her hot coffee and she accepts it and accepts that he accepts whatever the fuck her problem is.
She wipes the eraser shavings to the floor
He was the human reincarnation of a bulldog. She should have more to say about him - but she doesn't - so she looks to the man on the left. He walks fiercely and awkwardly, like you uncurled golden coat hangers and forced them through his skin, through the muscle, and into long white bones. He brings a breeze that whips at the bottom of her slacks as his hand grabs her hip, swooping her into a pace she can't keep up with. His fingers dig into her skin but she doesn't care because it's not like he hasn't done it before and it's not like she hasn't done it to him. It hurts more when you're naked anyways.
Their noses (little and big) point forward and she can feel the tension in his jaw because it's in hers too.
His fingers dig deeper.
"it's gone"
He lets go.
They're in the parking lot, in the car, in the motel parking lot, in front of the door.
She remembers their pet. They left their bulldog behind. Bad parents. He would always piss on the sofa though. Naughty dog.
Always when they were about to sit down.
Key-in-lock he lets the door swing open and she doesn't hesitate. He loosens his tie she untucks her shirt. He unbuckles his pants hers are already folded. Two thoughtless steps and her hands are swimming in his suitcase claiming a shirt and sweats. One for her and one for him. Always a pair. They meet between the TV and the end of the bed and she hands him what he wants. He takes the sweats with one hand and with the other smooths the back of his index and middle over the red crescents he left.
She took her underwear off so he would be able to see them.
Actions have consequences.
He turns the light off; him sliding in on the left, her sliding in on the right, a dust puff of cold rising from the crisp and gross sheets. They each lay in their designated areas resisting the pull. They do this often enough to know that during sleep it will reel them in and twist them and tangle them and tie them with a blue bow like a returned present that's rotting in customer service because the toys are broken and the box is battered and the price tag has already been torn off. Slowly being pushed to the back of the pile which should be marked 'FORGOTTEN' , but that wouldn't be right because there's a big tough (?) bulldog who has their hearts in his mind always.
So this pair of reject plastic dinosaurs are being pushed, one with a missing voice box and one with a head about to fall off, trying to solve the equation life = sad solve for w(hy)
Solve for why.
Their plastic eyelids click open.
"Scully get dressed"
She was already buttoning.
Badges in pocket they're back on the road.