Walls

This week I am, as always, stuck for something to write. And then it struck me: I haven’t done anything — at ALL — with Saving Grace/Holistic Collection in months. In fact, I can’t even remember what I renamed it. And so I decided to write a little flash fic about a few of the characters. If you want to learn more about these cool people, check out the ‘Meet the Family’ page up top.

Sash tapped nervously at the keyboard. He’d never known that people used the internet for more than finding out things about humans. Rath — he shook the name off like an uncomfortable hand on an uncomfortable, painful shoulder — had never told him that they had a whole community on here.

“It’s anonymous, Aleks,” Tom said with a thoughtful smile. “I wouldn’t have let you on here otherwise. Make sure not to name any names… or talk of specifics…” He sighed. “I know it isn’t perfect, but if you won’t talk to me or Annie about it, and you won’t let me tell your brother… I just hoped that you might talk to someone hidden behind a screen. Annie checked her out for me, and she’s not part of the House. We’re pretty sure she’s Pink Fey, although it can be hard to tell sometimes. And she’s well qualified, especially in talking to people with our particular issues.”

Sometimes I think we’re all a bit crazy — that something about the turning —

Sash blinked and wished that Tom wasn’t in the room — not only that, but that his friend had never found him in the first place. Neither of them spoke about the way his emotional walls had started to crumble, but they both knew that the incidents were clear evidence of it. With the crumbling came the emotions he hadn’t wanted to feel, that Tam had drugged him to get rid of. In some way, he missed the oblivion that they gave him — if he’d still been taking them when he moved into Tom’s place, he would have been safe from the incessant sarcastic humour and understanding that drove him mad enough to let feeling back into his icy heart.

“You don’t have to if you don’t want to, Al. You know that.”

If there was one thing that he didn’t mind about Tom’s ridiculous attempt to fix him, it was that he never ever used the name he’d taken when he came to England, the name that had been said by dozens of people and just one person in particular. He much preferred ‘Aleks’. No one called him that; it was comforting to be able to forget his past.

He looked back up at the screen. It was all written in an ancient language that Tom insisted was Fey-ese. That had made him laugh — a short, sarcastic bark.  Tom had told him that it meant ‘Psychiatry Service for Fey’, and, as unlikely as it sounded, Sash trusted him. He trusted that Tom had his best interests at heart, and that, by some miracle, this new form of ‘help’ would actually… well, help.

And so he started typing.

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