He never knows how or when it will happen. Days blur, blend. Weeks. Months. The endless repetition of the lives of those in the slums that he ignored. Ignored the thoughts of. The tempting, sweet, if more than not tainted, smell of.




And then, then it'd all be gone again. Cloudy.
Murky insubstantial. His mind losing cohesion.

He struggled against it. Against loosing everything.
Except that she would be there. In the insanity beyond.
Not real. Not right. But real enough, almost clear enough.
Almost enough to let go of reality for what still mattered.



The way she stood him now, as he opened his eyes slowly. As though he could tired, could be seeing from so far away, when she seemed feet away. All of him so thin and still and not here. With her back to him as she stared beyond a cliff.

With a set to her shoulders he knew too well.

"Bella." Her name escaped him, as he was suddenly feet closer.