The only sound left was water hitting tile.
And the small, broken rhythm of us still—barely—breathing. I felt her shaking harder against me, making me look up. Her arms were lifted up, wrapped around herself as if she were cold.
“Fuck.”
The word tore out of me before I even realised it. I turned around, my hands were shaking so hard I could barely unzip my gym bag. I tore my jacket off, the fabric slapping the wet tile, and dug through until my fingers brushed cotton, my hoodie.
I threw it over her shoulders, her whole body trembling like a leaf in a storm. She didn’t even move, didn’t flinch, didn’t breathe.
I didn’t care that her wet body was soaking up my hoodie. I didn’t care that I soaked myself. I zipped it up halfway with trembling fingers, tugging the fabric around her like it would somehow warm her. Like it would erase everything I’d done.
Her teeth were chattering, her shoulders tight, and my chest hurt just looking at her.
And then, she snapped.
The sound that came out of her wasn’t a cry. It was a scream. Raw. Ferocious. The kind that clawed its way out of a throat that had been silent too long.
Her fists hit my chest, small, sharp thuds that didn’t really hurt but made my ribs ache, anyway.
“W-why?!” she screamed, the word cracked in half by her sob.
Another punch.
“Why y-you—doing t-this to me?! What did I d-do to you?!”
I didn’t move.
Couldn’t.
Her fists kept coming, trembling and desperate, landing against me like she was trying to make me feel all the pain she couldn’t carry anymore.
And God, I did.
Her voice.
She spoke.
She fucking spoke.
The girl who never spoke, who only signed or wrote, was breaking herself open right in front of me, every word scraping her throat raw. It sounded like it physically hurt her to talk, but she still did it.
And every syllable sounded like a knife.
“I didn’t do any—anything!” she choked out, her breath hitching between every word. “I w-was kind to everyone!”
I couldn’t even breathe.
She was hitting me, sobbing, falling apart in front of me, and I just… sat there.
“Aurora—” I tried, but my voice cracked halfway through her name.
She flinched like it burned.
“No! No!”
Her voice splintered, and so did I.
Her tears mixed with the droplets on her cheeks. I couldn’t tell which was which anymore.
