"Are there any blankets around here?" James breaks the akward silence and draws Idina from her pensive thoughts.
"What? Oh. Yes. Top shelf of my closet. Would you like some coffee?" Idina twists her fingers, wrestling with the thoughts tumbling around her head. James accepts the offer, knowing she needs something to keep her busy. Idina trips over herself on the way to the kitchen, too lost in her head to feel James' following eyes. His brows furrow in concern. Did she trip over herself like the clutzy, fun loving Idina always did, or did her legs give out? She disappears through the doorway and he returns to his search for a blanket for each of them. He finds far more than he intended to. Nearly stepping on Idina's interrupted secrets, he stops dead in his track, blankets long forgotten. He picks up the knife and heads for the kitchen.
Idina reminds herself to breathe properly as she hears James' footsteps on the hard tile kitchen floor. "Did you find the blankets you wanted?" She asks without turning to face him, knowing her pale complexion and irregular breaths would give her dead away.
"Not exactly." Idina stiffens and turns at the tone in his voice. "Dee, why was this laying on the floor of your closet?" He holds up the knife and Idina's face hardens.
"You know what, James? Fuck you! I told you not to come! I told you I'm fine! Why can't you just leave me alone? We're both going to end up hurt if this continues and maybe one of us will be broken beyond repair! You say you don't want that to happen to me, but I sure as hell couldn't live with myself if it was you. That kind of pain fucking hurts. And sometimes you never heal! Don't you dare make me promises you can't keep, because I've heard them all before, not a single one of them kept. Don't you think maybe there's a reason I don't share my inner self with many people? Don't you think there's a reason I choose to be alone instead of socializing? How do you fucking think someone gets scars like mine? And they're not beautiful like you say I am. They're ugly, horrid, shameful. I should be ashamed of them, of me. Sure, you can say you love my however many times as you want, but I've heard those words before, and what happens when your actions no longer match your words? When your love becomes a pity-driven tolerance, used only to better yourself in the public eye while breaking me even further? What happens when you take away my safe haven, my comfort? Then where will I find who I am? Do you have any idea how hard it is to find yourself, to find stability and assurance when every time you find it there's someone claiming to love you pushing you right back to where you came from and you have to find it all over again? What happens when love becomes nothing more than a word, and not even a pleasant one at that? What happens when love becomes equated with intolerable pain and brokenness, never joy and comfort and safety? What then, James? What now?" Idina's rant wears down and she looks at the ground, arms finally still at her sides. "I'm so sorry. I didn't mean to yell at you."
"No, honey. I'm so glad you did." Idina's head jerks up in confusion and she sees the pride, joy, and love shining from James' eyes.