James quickly wipes his eyes as he hears a noise behind him. Idina stands in the doorway, a bottle of prescription pills in hand and a water bottle full of tea tucked in the crook of her elbow. She shakes a single pill out into her free hand and replaces the lid. Taking advantage of her distraction, he quickly tries to return the notebook to its proper spot. She closes her eyes and grimaces as she swallows the pill.
"I'm ready whenever you are." Her defeated tone matches the weariness written all over her face as she returns the little, orange bottle to the cabinet. James clears his throat in an effort to clear the choked up emotion.
"Are you okay?" he asks in reference to the pill bottle.
"They're nothing new." She half answers the question and turns to look at James. "Are you okay?" Her beautiful face is filled with concern for him. He drops his gaze and she follows suit, catching sight of the shut notebook. "Oh gosh. I'm sorry. I was, in a hurry, and forgot. I'm so sorry. That shouldn't have been there." She quickly grabs the notebook and marker, putting away the marker, then rushing past him to return the notebook to its spot on the shelf. He catches her elbow.
"No, Idina, don't be sorry. It's okay. Please don't apologize to me." Idina looks down, wishing she could remember how not to apologize for everything. But everything seems to in one way or another be her fault, so why shouldn't she apologize? He loosens his grip on her elbow and she speeds away to the bookcase. Her hands quiver as she places it carefully where it belongs. James' heart breaks for such a beautiful woman who can't see how incredibly strong she is. "Idina...honey...what, exactly, was that?" His words are halting and his voice slightly choked as he forces himself to ask the question.
Idina takes a deep breath breath. "Those are my...words." She folds her arms around herself, hatred for herself coarsing through her. She hates seeing him so distressed, and maybe even more so being the cause of his distress.
"About...?" James throat closes off the end of his sentence and Idina nods. She gasps shakily as if no matter how hard she tries she cannot breathe properly.
"Yes. Words about me, words I use to describe myself, what I've done." Frick, Idina, get it together. She mentally berates herself as she struggles to breathe.
"Red because...?" James doesn't want to think about it but at the same time desires to know the full truth.
"It was the better option." Idina's vague answer is met with a confused look from James. Unable to bring herself to explain verbally, she takes a chance and walks to the bookcase. The extends a shaky hand to retrieve the chronological first notebook on the shelf. She hands it to James and he opens it. The pages are filled with many of the same words he read not fifteen minutes ago, but in a different red. What she said makes sense. However horrible to see the words in bright red ink was nothing compared to seeing the same in dried, dark red. Blood. Idina's blood. Tears flood his eyes as he tries to comprehend the pain she went through, the pain she suffered alone. He looks up to see Idina struggling to hold back her own tears, blinking quickly and standing strong. No. She won't have to be another person's source of strength when many of them have been the same ones causing her pain. He returns the notebook to its proper place and gently takes Idina's hand, guiding her to the couch. He sits and pulls her onto his lap.
"It's okay, baby. You don't have to be strong for me. Let me be strong for you."