The infinite sadness that enveloped her heart rode on the waves of a well honed madness. That madness had been born from fear and compounded by failure and every doubt to ever plague her. Rage rose from within her, spilling out of her mouth as her lips formed around harsh words. It was impossible to keep this rush inside, especially when Jefferson spoke of such absurdities. His fault? How could this be anyone's fault? Who would want this? Who would want her after this had reshaped her so crudely?
“This isn't about you." Her quietness now wasn't her characteristic whisper-soft voice. Instead there was something banked there, fury waiting to break her open. She felt it pulsing with every beat of her heart, expanding, waiting to break free, to crack through her ribs and chest, to spill out of her mouth and burn her tongue along the way. She balled her hands into fists, and the tenseness in her body made her shoulder ache dully, but she could tolerate it. She had endure greater pains - the pain that twisted inside her propelled her forward now. “This isn't even about me; this is bigger than us." Her voice was rising. Frustration twisting like a tornado inside of her, heartache, pain, disbelief, disillusionment...she couldn't pick out a single emotion, thought, or feeling and direct it into an appropriate action.
She reached the edge of the bed and trembled; she hadn't been this close to him in what seemed like forever. But now, she wasn't certain if she wanted to throw her arms around him to embrace or strangle him. And she didn't trust herself to follow any kind of impulse. This. This right here is why I didn't approach you." Her breath hissed out between clenched teeth. She seized a hank of his hair and pulled it while her slender fingers curled roughly around his shoulder and she shook. “Look at me, god damn it. Look. At. Me.."