I want to bring my fear, loathing, and delusions to a pourI want to tip panic and reason into my god-fearing mouth
The sharp grin doesn’t move, even as he swallows, carefully measured out the honesty he can afford to add to the words. ”If I drop it now, I’m not sure I would be able to pick it up again.” And that wouldn’t do, would it? Too much vulnerability, too many chances to be hurt, to invite pain on others.
Nate accepts the file without letting his mismatched gaze drop from Isla, his thumb leafing along the edge automatically. It stays closed, his fellow doctor introducing it, her words somehow gentler than seeing everything in stark ink, something Nate will realize when he lets the file fall open on his lap, finally dropping his gaze.
Brows pinched together tightly as he reads, the deep furrow slashed across his face seeming deeper, sharper as his features darken. The drawing is pulled out, as if seeing it alone will help the lines make sense, the analysis getting the same treatment. ”I should have noticed something.” Barely more than a whisper, Nate finally slips, the weak grin dropping away completely, replaced by a clenched jaw and pursed lips.
Anger flickers across his face first, before Nate closes his eyes, tamping himself down just to stay in control. He pulls in a deep, useless breath, then looks up at Isla again. ”How does something like this even happen?” It’s an unfair question, she has as many answers as he does, so he moves on almost immediately. ”What did you give him?” A hand reaches into his jacket, pulls out the envelope that had held the invitation, that still holds the pre measured doses of medication.
Nate accepts the file without letting his mismatched gaze drop from Isla, his thumb leafing along the edge automatically. It stays closed, his fellow doctor introducing it, her words somehow gentler than seeing everything in stark ink, something Nate will realize when he lets the file fall open on his lap, finally dropping his gaze.
Brows pinched together tightly as he reads, the deep furrow slashed across his face seeming deeper, sharper as his features darken. The drawing is pulled out, as if seeing it alone will help the lines make sense, the analysis getting the same treatment. ”I should have noticed something.” Barely more than a whisper, Nate finally slips, the weak grin dropping away completely, replaced by a clenched jaw and pursed lips.
Anger flickers across his face first, before Nate closes his eyes, tamping himself down just to stay in control. He pulls in a deep, useless breath, then looks up at Isla again. ”How does something like this even happen?” It’s an unfair question, she has as many answers as he does, so he moves on almost immediately. ”What did you give him?” A hand reaches into his jacket, pulls out the envelope that had held the invitation, that still holds the pre measured doses of medication.
NATE
