[ She dreams of dark grey eyes, amused, and a mouth that pinches up at the corners too sharply whenever it smiles. She dreams she's in a car, eight years old and in the back seat, with those dark eyes laughing at her and a hand with white fingers picking at the hem of her skirt. She hates the man with those laughing eyes, hates the hand that looks to touch her. But when Polly goes to bite, there's no snap, no shut. No teeth, just bitter shards of glass crunching in her gut and in her mouth, the sound of it not enough to drown out the smug satisfaction of the man's voice.
Peekaboo, I see you, Polly Q.
She wakes with a start. ]
Barry—?
[ It's dark and the flickering of the passing lights disorients her for a moment, her good arm slung over her face and her bad arm laid out an angle, her hand resting lightly upon a cupholder, her dressings seeped through and stiff. Polly tries to sit up and pain screeches through her body as she does, but she doesn't like the feeling of being laid out like a dying person. Still, her voice is weak. ] —Barry, he's—
[ Her head hurts. Squeezing her eyes shut she leans tiredly against the back of the driver's seat, the fingers of her good hand coming to curl over Barry's shoulder. It's another needy gesture, one that begs for attention, and part of Polly hates herself for it, but fuck it feels good to know that he's there and he's solid. ] —fuck.
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Peekaboo, I see you, Polly Q.
She wakes with a start. ]
Barry—?
[ It's dark and the flickering of the passing lights disorients her for a moment, her good arm slung over her face and her bad arm laid out an angle, her hand resting lightly upon a cupholder, her dressings seeped through and stiff. Polly tries to sit up and pain screeches through her body as she does, but she doesn't like the feeling of being laid out like a dying person. Still, her voice is weak. ] —Barry, he's—
[ Her head hurts. Squeezing her eyes shut she leans tiredly against the back of the driver's seat, the fingers of her good hand coming to curl over Barry's shoulder. It's another needy gesture, one that begs for attention, and part of Polly hates herself for it, but fuck it feels good to know that he's there and he's solid. ] —fuck.