[ There's barely a heartbeat between waking and the moment Sharon realizes one of her tethers is just... gone. Severed. Not just that awful instant in the dream. The terror of it hits strange and sharp, and she doesn't waste time, boots shoved on without socks, coat thrown hastily over yesterday's crumpled outfit. She looks like hell, lip split, bruises crawling up her throat in ugly shades of blue and brown, but the pain is a blip in comparison to the fear.
Fear that only sharpens when she spots Arthur's expression. The moment her gaze lands on his, that fragile thread of hope she hadn't realized she was clinging to snaps. It's all over his face—he's reaching for the same tether, and he's coming up empty-handed. The realization guts her. Fuck, no. Please. Her voice fails her, but her wide, raw blue eyes speak for her, and then she's out the front door with bootlaces still trailing loose behind her. ]
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Fear that only sharpens when she spots Arthur's expression. The moment her gaze lands on his, that fragile thread of hope she hadn't realized she was clinging to snaps. It's all over his face—he's reaching for the same tether, and he's coming up empty-handed. The realization guts her. Fuck, no. Please. Her voice fails her, but her wide, raw blue eyes speak for her, and then she's out the front door with bootlaces still trailing loose behind her. ]