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Musical accompaniment: "Track thirteen" by breaking benjamin
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Quistis ran from the hotel room's kitchen and into Selphie's bedroom. Her friend's few articles of clothing were still zipped up in her travel bag. Her bed was neatly made; she had not slept there. Quistis glanced at the digital clock on the wall: three-thirty in the morning.
She fell back on her sofa, plagued by a nervousness that made her physically sick. She held her stomach painfully, she shook and breahted in sharp pants. A scribbled-on notepad was crushed in her hand. She brought it to her face once again.
Hi Quisty!
You needed sleep so I decided not to wake you. I'm worried about Aren. Gonna go find him. Be back soon!
Selphie!
She'll kill herself! Quistis agonized. Doesn't she realize that guy is dangerous? Why the hell is she going after him? Bowes could be ready to snap, for all she knows...
And now she's lost in a city we've never even been to...oh Hyne, she's gonna die. I know it...
Her head throbbed. She held it between her knees and pulled at her hair; the sudden migrane-like onset grew more tense as she thought horrible thoughts. Poor Selphie raped and bleeding to death in some dark Nebrian alley. Poor Selphie laying with a broken face at the feet of a crazed Aren Bowes.
She'd already be dead. She would, if not for us then she'd be dead! And she will...she'll die tonight...and I can't...
Her bawling eyes drained into her bathrobe. Her headache grew; it shook her head with terrible force each time it throbbed. Her stomach was horribly upset; she felt near vomiting with each breath she took. Quistis forced the thoughts from her mind, she reached to control herself.
Look at you...you're getting all worked up...just relax, and you'll...you'll think of something...
But the pain increased. She gasped as the headache shook her nearly unconscious. Her body was weak and shaking. A cold sweat dripped from her brow, and she swayed dizzily off center. She felt her breaths tighten. Her heart raced.
She fell weakly from the couch. Her head pounded the carpeted floor. The pounding shattered through her head with terrible force. She closed her eyes and felt herself choke, and shake, and drift away.
A light, dreamy sensation overcame her; a gentle wave passed through her body. Her lungs opened; she heaved in a wonderful breath of air. Her stomach eased itself down, and the headache dissipated away. Her muscles lost their locked tension and her cold shakes left her body. She felt ease; a relaxation, yet such an exhaustion.
Quistis felt a careful touch on her cheek. Her body lifted lightly from the ground, and she felt herself wrapped up in someone's arms. Her head rested betwen an open jacket, and against a young man's chest. He held her against him, and lightly rocked her back and forth. But he did not speak.
Quistis felt his heartbeat against her cheek. Her savior seemed nervous. She felt his breath on her head. It was quick, and perhaps a little to careful not to disturb her.
She brought her hands to his jacket's shoulders, and rested them there. It took tremendous strain. She tried hard to raise her weary head, but failed, and it fell back to her savior's chest. A gentle hand, covered in a leather glove, lay under her chin, and raised it up. Quistis slowly opened her eyes.
She knew his face. Auburn hair was draped carelessly over a long white scar on his forehead. His determined eyes looked on her with care. His pointed chin lay between the feathery collars of his jacket. His lips were a frown of concern; they lightened some when he saw her opening eyes.
Quistis closed her eyes and sighed, and lay her head back upon his chest.
~
