[ her stomach leaps into her throat at the sight of the suitcase; she wrings out the rag that has been soaking in the cleaning solution a little tighter than she means to and the scent of vinegar seeps into everything, every crevice. she's on her knees scrubbing until the cloth and her hands are stained pink. in the dim lighting it could almost be as if she'd spilled a glass of wine on herself, struggling to wash it clean before it sets.
she can hear the sound of bones breaking - that sharp snap like someone stepping on sticks in the woods, sudden and unexpected, and she pauses to sit back on her heels. looks at one of her hands and holds it out in front of her. she can see the bones shifting underneath her skin. such strong things that hold the human body together - and yet, in an instant, can be broken.
she does not enter the neighboring room when she is finished, almost as if she can't bring herself to see the horror of it for herself. this is participation, but only to a point.
she scrubs her hands beneath the faucet until the water runs clear again. her robe is wet, the silk blotched and damp. she looks at her reflection in the mirror almost as if she is reluctant to see his face looking back at her. ]
no subject
she can hear the sound of bones breaking - that sharp snap like someone stepping on sticks in the woods, sudden and unexpected, and she pauses to sit back on her heels. looks at one of her hands and holds it out in front of her. she can see the bones shifting underneath her skin. such strong things that hold the human body together - and yet, in an instant, can be broken.
she does not enter the neighboring room when she is finished, almost as if she can't bring herself to see the horror of it for herself. this is participation, but only to a point.
she scrubs her hands beneath the faucet until the water runs clear again. her robe is wet, the silk blotched and damp. she looks at her reflection in the mirror almost as if she is reluctant to see his face looking back at her. ]