AS she found her way curled into his arms, he only held her, caressing her back as she shook like a leaf. As he listened, he felt his unyielding empathy burn for her, this poor lost woman who ached for happiness in this miserable life. Yet, was he so different? Only… he had no escape.
“I find you to be beautiful, Sally,” he answered her candidly. Despite her illness, she had such striking eyes, such soft lips. A smile he found himself yearning to see. Maybe he was taken with her, after all. “Though I wish you could have seen the man I was before it all went wrong. I grew from a coward to become a leader in my community. I was a good man. I fought for what was right, even when it meant going against the only family I had left. And then it all…. I became lost. Now, I am tied to this wretched existence against my will.”
Sally’s breath had to feel hot like the devil’s tongue against the crook of his neck, but at least the violent trembling of her skin had been reduced to a light ( and much less dramatic ) shivering; all thanks to his arms and blanket protecting her body from its own reaction to sobriety — keeping her nice and warm with hugs and soft kisses to the top of her head. If only the need to break herself before the world got a chance at it hadn’t taken over her… back in the day when dreams could be easily wasted.
Instead of pained whimpering, it was a low hum that she gave for an answer. “Not against your will, no… look at yourself, taking care of mama’s little prey. There’s strength in you, I can feel it.” And it was true, Sally had developed great skills to sense others’ true selves… just like people used to say, you see everything when the world doesn’t see you. The junkie’s eyes fell shut, fingers twisting and toying with the ragged fabric of Ambrose’s clothes as they held each other, concealed by the black night’s darkness. “Don’t let her kill the goodness in you… I’d die.”