Notes: I hate glitter, okay?
I have never trusted glitter. Glitter can mean the glint of the sun off a sword, or the sparking of a fuse before a bomb blows.
But where had I seen glitter lately? It wasn't here, even though there was glitter here, lightly dusting bits of the sofa, probably where Haley or Emily had accidentally smudged it on the bright, new upholstery.
I closed my eyes, straining to remember. Trees. Dimness and trees, so thick that I couldn't see my own feet in the undergrowth or more than a few feet in front of me.
"You look tired." I flinch, meeting Haley's electric blue eyes. "Sit down. It will help."
I settle down, holding my breath against the waft of old sofa smell that rises to meet my nostrils as the stuffing shifts pulpily under me. The wood creaks violently, and for a moment I'm sure it's going to collapse.
What was I thinking about? I can't remember. Oh, stone. The kind of jagged stone that holds and tears and latches on. Not stone, actually, but trees as hard as stone. They scrape my hands, cut through my shoes, narrower and narrower, until I am forced to turn back. But the way behind me is closed off too...
"Would you like coffee? It will help."
Her fingers are soft and smooth and moisturized as they brush against mine. But underneath the muscles are shaking, tense and eager, and the hand hovers for just a moment too long. I stare at the glint and sparkle of her painted and manicured nails.
There was glitter before now. I know. I remember. It swamps the last few inches I have, forcing it's way into my lungs, scorching and tearing all the way down, crowding my vision until all I can see are sickening neon afterimages and static.
My mug is painted with a cheerful 'I love my ❤!' I don't love my heart. Every flood of blood bites and gnaws as it echoes through me. Whatever crawls through my veins now, it certainly isn't blood cells. The handle of the mug crumbles to dust as I set it on the table. I whimper softly. Even that small movement is agony. My eyes blink and blink but I can barely see though the dancing silhouettes and sparks of light.
The world snaps sharply into place again as five open mouths pause a few inches from my nose. A wave of peristalsis runs down the fingers that back them. They curl into mirrors of the sharp, toothy smile on Haley's face, the one that even the glitter can't hide anymore.
"Hold still. It will help."