Quentin was right when he gave me this book. I guess I should have thought about it but I was too shaken by the sight of that guy dying. I gave him a journal so he could write in it, try to get his emotions out on paper so that he would get better after letting it out. I didn’t realize that it was the kind of solution that would work for me too. I’m more than grateful for the journal he’s given me and it is absolutely beautiful to boot. I don’t usually write though, so it’s been a little difficult to get started on that whole writing out my emotions bits.
The first few pages of the book are actually scribbles but when I look at them I do see the scene that has burned itself into my memories. The man on the ground, the blood, while I know I was a distance off, I still saw his eyes, I saw the desperation in them and it made me ache for this stranger I didn’t know. I saw the terrible sadness that was surfacing as he realized he was dying and that there wouldn’t really be anyone to be there for him.
A small, tiny little part of me wanted to rush out there to help him or at least hold him until he was gone so he wouldn’t have to die alone but I couldn’t. I think I was seeing Sterling all over again and that might just be what left the biggest mark on me.
I did manage to start writing though. Not whole pages or even paragraphs. But a few words here, a few words there. A sentence at the end of that page there. Little things. Bits and pieces. I have an easier time of expressing myself in art. Drawing, painting, sculpting I’ve realized recently. I can open up about myself most of the time too, talk away. I can sing some but I mostly get my points across with artistic things.
He’s settled into the habit of sleeping next to me. I can’t say how grateful I am. His presence next to me pulls me mind at ease. I still see things but they’re not as bad, not as bloody and not as troubling. I don’t wake up screaming anymore. On one side of me right now is Quentin, asleep or so I figure by his slow and steady breathing, the lift and drop of his chest. On the other side, I have Areli, Lavi is curled at my feet and I feel my lips curl slightly at the corners. What a big, hold-together-in-time-of-need family we are. This is so comforting. Though I’m honestly not so sure the cats are here because they feel that I need the comfort but it’s warming anyway.
Quentin though. I could cry for how happy, how warm it makes me inside when he does these little things. I don’t think he even realizes them. He doesn’t stray far but still lets me have my freedom, my peace of mind. He doesn’t prod to have details about my dreams and my nightmares, he lets me open up on my own. He helps with little things here and there that usually I would do just fine on my own but I’m grateful for the help this time around.
He’s been tending to the garden in that one area that I don’t feel I can go to just yet and he’s doing a wonderful job of it. It helps that the area in question is all flowers that only need a little looking over. The watering is automatic but there needs a bit of pruning now and again and he’s been doing a beautiful job. Even more beautiful is when he brought down a bouquet of some of the flowers from the garden. Just one of each type and only the ones that were strong and had more than one stem. It was a simple sort of thing but the thought was so touching that I did cry when he offered it to me. He got scared then, afraid he’d done something wrong but I explained to him that these tears were of overwhelming thankfulness.
I shift just slightly, I turn to look at him, to brush some hair from his face and he doesn’t budge. I’m glad he sleeps so peacefully out of his own bed. I recall our outing to that bed and breakfast and I know that he wasn’t all that comfortable sleeping in a strange bed though he never said anything about it. My strong weaver demon. I think you could control the whole world if you really wanted but I know you won’t. Not your kind of thing and I guess you don’t even know your ancestry that well. There’s nearly none of your kind left. People were so afraid that they killed and killed and killed until they thought all were gone but a few remained. I don’t know if you’re pure blood or not, hard to imagine you might be all things considered and I wonder what your other demon-side is. In time we might just find out.
I settle my head against his shoulder, nestling a little closer and I feel his arm pull my closer. Butterflies flutter at the warmth I feel at the simpleness things and I close my eyes. Yes, I still see terrible things when I close my eyes but it has gotten better. His presence is helping me keep my sanity close at hand and it makes me fall even deeper in love with him. I don’t know where I might be at this point in my life if we hadn’t met the way we have. If he hadn’t seen my graffiti, if he hadn’t sought me out. I’m more than glad for it all, I can’t even begin to explain any of it.
I know I drift off at some point but when I feel him stirring slightly next to me and partly beneath me, my lashes flutter and I blink at him a bit. I’m not sure what time it is, the curtains are drawn shut, the boys have wandered off, likely to sleep in their own bed (they love that thing to death, it’s right by the window and they just huddle in there) and it’s still dark in my room. I lift myself slightly to look down at him and he just smiles sweetly at me and pulls me back down against him.
“You still look tired, sleep a bit more. This is comfortable.” I guess it is quite comfortable, the room is just cool enough, the air conditioning is so silent that I can’t tell when it runs or not. It’s a recent addition but a really welcomed one. I don’t think we could have slept next to one another this way if it hadn’t been there. The air had been sticky and uncomfortable but now it was cool and nice.
He tugs me a little closer still yet and I just kiss his cheek before I nestle against his shoulder and sigh, hoping I can manage a bit more rest without any nightmares. The last few hours had been very, so very peaceful. My first peaceful rest in a little while and I want a bit more of it. I think the way things are now just what the doctor would have ordered. I can adapt.