Blood & Sympathy (FFVII: Vincent x OC)

Ch57 - Pain

She moved her body by the edge of the bed with a grunt. Every single move brought pain, but she knew she couldn't stay bed-ridden all day. Not moving at all, wasn't doing any good to her muscles and her bones.

Jocasta's hand reached for the cane that rested by her bedside table. She sighed as she stared at the black wooden stick that was given to her when she exited the Hospital. Her hand was instinctively around her belly where the pain radiated harshly, but again, she couldn't be taking anti-inflammatory pills all the time. They too could become a bad addiction that she wanted to avoid getting used to.

She grabbed the cane with her right hand, and she pressed her weight on it, pulling herself up on her feet. Walking had become a struggle that she usually chose to avoid. It had been a week since she'd left the hospital. Cid and Shera had insisted that she stayed with them for as long as she would want to. At least, for as long as it'd take for her to heal. She was so grateful she had those two. Cid and Shera had treated her as if they were a family. She didn't know how she was going to thank them. They were giving her so much more than what she deserved.

Jocasta tried to help Shera around with the house chores, but Shera would turn her down immediately, and when Cid was around, he'd pick her up and forcibly take her back to her room with a couple of curses hanging from his lips. Cloud had come to her with Tifa and Barret. He didn't look well. He tried to apologize. Jocasta tried her best to let him know that she wasn't mad at him. It wasn't his fault. And when he found out about Vincent leaving, just like that, he stood back on his feet promising her that he was going to find him and try to kick some sense into him.

Vincent. She tried so hard not to think of him. She tried so hard till her forehead ached. But she couldn't not think about him. She couldn't not blame herself for her current state. If she hadn't let herself fall for him, she wouldn't be so... so broken, now. Did it sound stupid to say, that her heart was broken? Yes. It sounded so, so, so stupid. She wasn't some teenage girl that had been dumped by her boyfriend. She wasn't a helpless, hopeless little woman that couldn't stand on her own two feet unless there was a man around to help her.

Then why did it hurt so bad? Why was there that tightness, that pain in her chest? It knocked her breath away. It brought tears in her eyes and she tried her best to blink them away and pretend nothing ever happened. But she couldn't pretend that nothing happened because so much had happened and she was broken. Yes, she was broken. She had to admit that. She couldn't stand on her own two feet. She couldn't walk. She couldn't eat. Not with that pit on her stomach. She couldn't breathe. Not when every single breath fueled her need to cry.

And the nights. The nights were so long. She wouldn't sleep. She didn't sleep. She couldn't. Not when the voices in her mind were so loud and there was no one there to silence them. And when she'd let herself fall in the sweet -but torturous- embrace of sleep, she'd snap back up with tears and shouts and she had no one to cry to. She had no one to hold her. She had no one to kiss her forehead and let her know that everything was going to be okay.

Vincent was no longer there. The last time she saw him was only a week ago, yet the days passed so ridiculously slow. Maybe it was his absence that made her life go back to the hell that it was before she met him again. Before she let him in, and steal her heart. No. Not steal. She gave it to him so... so willingly. So openhandedly... that's why she hated herself. She hated herself for falling for him. For believing in what they had. In love.

Love. She had stopped reminding herself of what love was. It wasn't a pretty feeling. It was manipulative. Painful. Deceitful. It breaks people, strong people, and it breaks them in the harshest of ways. She had stopped reminding herself these, that's how she failed. She let herself in his arms and she trusted that he'd never let go, but he did, and when he left, she lost a part of herself for the second time. And she hated herself for feeling like that. She hated herself for needing him so much.