London Institute For The Mentally Ill (An Infernal Devices Fanfic)

XIV

Tessa later went home that night. It was one of those nights where she will be weary to her core. Her eyes shut off more often. Her head feels light and empty. Her body hurts and numbs all the same; her feet complains of nonexistent soreness, while her fingers would be limp.

She stumbled upon Nate on their darkened living room, the only source of light the television blaring the news for today. He was snuggled on the couch, a mug pressed on his palms, a blanket draped over his shoulders.

"You still up?" Tessa frowned at him.

"Can't sleep." Was what he said. "I made tea. There's still some in the kitchen."

On a normal night, Tessa would've made a comment about how british Nate is becoming, but tonight is anything but that. She chewed her lip as she took her shoes off and placed them in the rack. The floor felt freezing, but it felt good against her foot.

Nate apparently picked up her mood and shifted from his seating so he can face her. She can see that his eyes are wide with concern. She is thankful for that. "You okay, pup?"

"Yeah, just..." she took a deep breath. She can't find herself to meet his gaze, so she decided to head for the kitchen. "Tired."

"Crazy day, huh."

That hit home. She was taken when she realized that. She stared at him, astonished. His gaze was back on the television, a small smile on his face.

She knew he means no harm. He obviously intends to shade her workplace, which he always found odd. But still...

"You'll get used to it." He offered once more. "I admit, I'm not a fan of your work, but whatever rings your bells, I guess."

When she finally made it to the kitchen, Tessa glanced back to make sure that Nate isn't going to follow her. When she was satisfied, she tiptoed and reached for Nate's liquor shelf. Nate being the man of stereotype that he is, made it very clear that she won't let Tessa drink strong stuff. It's not because he's afraid she cannot handle it, but because he insists she stick to girly drinks, being a woman and all. "Cosmos are good for you."

She took the bottle of Jack and laid it on the counter, making sure that she won't make any noise that would give her away. She glanced at the doorway again. No Nate. She then took a mug and poured the drink fully.

She didn't gave a damn if the drink makes her throat feel like rubber burning from the inside out. She dunked it all up, thirsty, greedily. The stuff settled in to her stomach, a warm pool of alcohol churning inside her. When she was done, she was practically catching her breath.

She stashed the bottle away as soon as her feet got steadier. She downed the taste of the liquor in her mouth with water. She set the mug for the sink and headed for the bathroom afterwards.

Part of her wanted to take the shower with her clothes on. She is scared to peel her clothes away from her. She brushed it off, telling her that she is being ridiculous.

When she finally did, however, she saw the hickeys, and she had to fight every nerve in her body to prevent herself from shattering the mirror. Jack burned inside her void, yet her muscles feel like they are gonna burst if she didn't do something about the energy flowing in them.

She just stood there, in the shower, the warm water peppering her body. She took the soap and scrubbed it relentlessly on her body. She scrubbed as hard as she could, even if she is aware that it's not the right way to deal with a hickey. When the water washed it away, she scrubbed again. Rinse and repeat, literally, as if she were but dirty laundry.

She stood there for god knows how long. She didn't want the warmth, and so she resolved to freezing herself with the water. She allowed a few tears to come out. At the corner of her eye, she got a glimpse of Nate's razor. Not today, she told herself. Not today.