09-01-2008, 05:19 PM
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She knew if she truly allowed herself to break down here and now, she wouldn’t be able to piece herself together for some time. So, therefore, she started to fight to compose herself once more. It was incredibly difficult — like trying to pull a semi truck behind you while going up an incline — but she managed to overcome it and force the tears to stop. She lowered her hand, nervously wringing some of the rainwater from the bandanna that she still held loosely. Her narrowed eyes were originally fixated on the ground, but she forced them up to face him once more. He held her knife, which made the tears start threatening her again. She managed to keep them at bay. His question shook her once more, and she, after a few moments of deliberating, shook her head slightly. “I could have hurt you,” she rasped, as if that was the answer to the question. Partially, to her, it was. She wouldn’t have forgiven herself if she had hurt him, and she was pretty far away from forgiving herself for even having the chance. Her face grew pained, and she quickly unlatched the sheath for the knife from her belt and held it out to him.
Nikita had never consciously gone without her knife for a single day since Patriot had given it to her. No one but she would realize how much it took for her to give it away like that. And yet, she couldn’t trust herself with it at all at the moment; not when she had pulled it on anyone. It would be best if he held onto it for the time being.
“I’m going… crazy,” she said, voice barely stretching over a whisper. To her, it was finally admitting it. She had been thinking that she wouldn’t get to this point — that they’d discover some kind of treatment before she started to lose it. But of course not; there was no reason why she would be spared while there were three others who had fallen ill just a short time before she had that had to be confined. She took a rattling deep breath, focusing on keeping a grasp on her composure.
She knew if she truly allowed herself to break down here and now, she wouldn’t be able to piece herself together for some time. So, therefore, she started to fight to compose herself once more. It was incredibly difficult — like trying to pull a semi truck behind you while going up an incline — but she managed to overcome it and force the tears to stop. She lowered her hand, nervously wringing some of the rainwater from the bandanna that she still held loosely. Her narrowed eyes were originally fixated on the ground, but she forced them up to face him once more. He held her knife, which made the tears start threatening her again. She managed to keep them at bay. His question shook her once more, and she, after a few moments of deliberating, shook her head slightly. “I could have hurt you,” she rasped, as if that was the answer to the question. Partially, to her, it was. She wouldn’t have forgiven herself if she had hurt him, and she was pretty far away from forgiving herself for even having the chance. Her face grew pained, and she quickly unlatched the sheath for the knife from her belt and held it out to him.
Nikita had never consciously gone without her knife for a single day since Patriot had given it to her. No one but she would realize how much it took for her to give it away like that. And yet, she couldn’t trust herself with it at all at the moment; not when she had pulled it on anyone. It would be best if he held onto it for the time being.
“I’m going… crazy,” she said, voice barely stretching over a whisper. To her, it was finally admitting it. She had been thinking that she wouldn’t get to this point — that they’d discover some kind of treatment before she started to lose it. But of course not; there was no reason why she would be spared while there were three others who had fallen ill just a short time before she had that had to be confined. She took a rattling deep breath, focusing on keeping a grasp on her composure.