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Oct. 11th, 2017 07:51 amHe's not answering texts. In itself, that's not unusual. Paul gets busy at work and can only text two or three times before the end of his shift. So Jillie can wait that out.
But when four rolls around, and then five, and still nothing, she swallows down the sick rise of panic and goes to the library.
None of his coworkers recognize his name. They recognize her, remember that she's been visiting, but they don't know Paul.
"He's worked here for months," she insists, but they just shaken their heads blankly.
She tries to call him. His number is disconnected. She stares at their text exchanges, at the pictures of him on her phone. She pinches the inside of her wrist harshly, until her eyes water. He doesn't disappear. The words remain.
She asks the nearest person if they can see him kn the screen, uncaring that she sounds as crazy as she feels.
"He's got to be here," she says. She repeats it like a mantra, fingers shaking as she draws out a cigarette.
She rushes to his apartment. Her key works, but the inside is empty. No furniture, no decor. His smell is gone. Their smell is gone.
She backs out of the apartment until she hits the wall opposite the door and just stares through the doorway. She returns to pinching her wrist.
This can't be real. This has to be a twisted hallucination. Her meds must be off again. Something, anything but the truth she can feel bubbling inside her.
She doubles over and vomits. The cigarette falls from her mouth and into the bile and meager lunch she'd eaten.
In the same way that they arrived, he left.
She isn't sure how to deal with this. She isn't sure she knows how to be without Paul. She grabs her phone out of her bra and texts Jack, Poison, Nina, Inej, Jyn, Newt, anyone that might be able to reassert reality for her. Anyone that might assure her that this is okay.
Anyone at all.
But when four rolls around, and then five, and still nothing, she swallows down the sick rise of panic and goes to the library.
None of his coworkers recognize his name. They recognize her, remember that she's been visiting, but they don't know Paul.
"He's worked here for months," she insists, but they just shaken their heads blankly.
She tries to call him. His number is disconnected. She stares at their text exchanges, at the pictures of him on her phone. She pinches the inside of her wrist harshly, until her eyes water. He doesn't disappear. The words remain.
She asks the nearest person if they can see him kn the screen, uncaring that she sounds as crazy as she feels.
"He's got to be here," she says. She repeats it like a mantra, fingers shaking as she draws out a cigarette.
She rushes to his apartment. Her key works, but the inside is empty. No furniture, no decor. His smell is gone. Their smell is gone.
She backs out of the apartment until she hits the wall opposite the door and just stares through the doorway. She returns to pinching her wrist.
This can't be real. This has to be a twisted hallucination. Her meds must be off again. Something, anything but the truth she can feel bubbling inside her.
She doubles over and vomits. The cigarette falls from her mouth and into the bile and meager lunch she'd eaten.
In the same way that they arrived, he left.
She isn't sure how to deal with this. She isn't sure she knows how to be without Paul. She grabs her phone out of her bra and texts Jack, Poison, Nina, Inej, Jyn, Newt, anyone that might be able to reassert reality for her. Anyone that might assure her that this is okay.
Anyone at all.
