One of my favorite characters has been on my mind lately, so I'm gonna write some drabbles and keep them here. Feel free to comment/PM with questions, comments, concerns :)

“What are you running from?” The events of the day prior replayed and replayed, over and over again in a ceaseless cycle. His eyes were brighter, bluer than she’d ever seen them. Tinted with the glow of the stars, accented by the glistening of the snow beneath them.

“What are you running from?” “What are you running from?” “What are you running from?”

Even now, it haunted her like a ghost. It wasn’t demonic, it wasn’t forceful. It was empty, translucent to her half-hearted replies, sorrowful, ghastly. Eerie, even, at this early morning hour.

What was she running from? Why was she running? Why had that question disturbed her so much? She’d finally found a soft place to land after years of running. Not only was she accepted, but she was beloved. Not only was she competent at her job, but she exceeded all expectations with her work ethic alone. So why now, three weeks before Christmas, the first Christmas she wouldn’t have to spend alone in years? Why now, only mere hours since the pair had returned from the mountaintop barn?

She stared at the letter in her hand, her feeble lettering cast in loose script over the front of the lined notebook paper. Twelve letters, one comma, three dots symbolizing something more. Something greater that she couldn’t express, a hope that this letter and her intended actions would not diminish a future hope, a future joy, that was even half of what he’d given her in a few short months.

Scott, i’m sorry…

She said a silent prayer to herself--at this point, she was her only savior. She stared towards the staff dorms with more pain than she had thought she could pour out of herself. She’d cried a thousand tears before, and had turned her heart away from her fickle emotions with a gilded anguish. She was already prepared to cry far more than one-thousand and one in the days coming. Before, she’d had nothing to stay for, nothing to hold onto. This time, the very thing that had held onto her, the very person, was the reason she couldn’t stay.

“What are you running from?” “What are you running from?” “What are you running from?”

His voice echoed in the back of her head one more. How did he know? A fool’s intuition? A soulmate’s grace? She’d told him nothing, but those blue eyes knew everything. It was both terrifying and exhilarating to be seen, to be known, without having to sacrifice a breath. That was the moment she knew her world would never be the same. That was the moment she knew she couldn’t stay.

Shuddering in the frigid truck, she decided against leaving the letter. Telling him how she felt was a fool’s game, and although tainted by passion at this moment, she would never stoop to emotion, stoop to the pain that was willing to obliterate her if she stayed anywhere for too long. Especially in the company of the one person she’d quickly realized she could never leave, if she didn’t do it now. Folding the letter up, she placed it on the passenger seat, putting the key in the ignition, and driving away. She’d proved, once again, that she could be stronger than the voices in her head that told her it was okay, she could stay, she was safe now, she was protected, and she was not her past. But at what cost?

P1 of a two part drabble :)

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“What are you running from?”

The phrase, even still, made Katrina’s breath hitch in her throat, unable to come up and feed words. The infuriating thing was that it still did. And, of course, the fact that the old shaman priestess knew exactly what it did to her, ruined her hauntingly and yet kept her whole, and used it over and over again, like an extension of the dream.

“Kamila. Answer my question.”

Her brown eyes were full of hurt, fueled by fury. “Why should I,” she growled. She was but a shell of her past self, even three months later. Three months of living on the top of a mountain with people who could control every depth of their soul and every emotion hadn’t taken any slightest bit of pain away. It wasn’t like last time, it was so, so much worse.

“The truths you keep hidden are shielding you from the truth that will save you. Though, it is your own willpower that is hurting what it seeks to heal. Again.”

Administering a vibrant reddish pink liquid into the IV she was attached to, Katrina writhed in defiance, but soon succumbed to the sleep again. Her body was thinner but stronger than before, covered from head to toe with drops of sweat that fell like blood. Her head was pounding, her body dizzy, her mind delirious. She had been on this table for God only knew how long, and even still, her only wish was for Scott to save her. She had fleeting mirages of him, just him. His essence, his being. But alas, just like an oasis in a dry desert, the Scott Katrina envisioned storming into the tent and saving her, the one who promised her she’d be okay, that Scott was never real, never tangible. He slipped through her grasp every time like the breeze. And unfortunately, those visions, those dreams, those feelings, they were the very thing she was trying to erase as if they’d never existed, and the only thing that was keeping her alive at this point. The only desire to live she had was for the very thing that caused her desire to die.