12-12-2021, 07:21 PM
so don’t forget to love me in damnation
For the living i have earned on love gone wrong
For the living i have earned on love gone wrong
Had she said it last time?
She doesn’t remember her own words as much as she remembers the panic that had seized her by the throat. (A girl cannot march through the world thinking that everything in it belongs to her. A girl cannot reach into the minds of others and think that there will not be consequences.)
It is the same panic that courses through her now, because she had laughed with him once. Because she’d thought she had given him a gift in showing him how brilliant the sun could be. (Had she thought that perhaps they could be friends in those early moments before she had turned into the worst possible thing—something he could never be? She must have, otherwise it wouldn’t hurt so bad.)
The words must not have found any purchase the last time she’d said them because he’s still looking at her like he cannot trust her, like she’d done it on purpose just to wound them. Based on his humorless smile, she suspects they mean just as little now as they did then.
She swallows thickly and takes a single step toward him, hoping to shrink the gulf that separates them.
“Before I met you, the only others I had ever been around were my parents and my brother,” she starts, uncertain, like offering up an explanation might somehow persuade him to forgive her. “Their thoughts were never secret,” she continues, though there must have been many things her mother kept from them. “I didn’t…,” she pauses, shakes her head, “it’s a lousy excuse, but I didn’t know how not to listen. I’d never had to try.”
She doesn’t remember her own words as much as she remembers the panic that had seized her by the throat. (A girl cannot march through the world thinking that everything in it belongs to her. A girl cannot reach into the minds of others and think that there will not be consequences.)
It is the same panic that courses through her now, because she had laughed with him once. Because she’d thought she had given him a gift in showing him how brilliant the sun could be. (Had she thought that perhaps they could be friends in those early moments before she had turned into the worst possible thing—something he could never be? She must have, otherwise it wouldn’t hurt so bad.)
The words must not have found any purchase the last time she’d said them because he’s still looking at her like he cannot trust her, like she’d done it on purpose just to wound them. Based on his humorless smile, she suspects they mean just as little now as they did then.
She swallows thickly and takes a single step toward him, hoping to shrink the gulf that separates them.
“Before I met you, the only others I had ever been around were my parents and my brother,” she starts, uncertain, like offering up an explanation might somehow persuade him to forgive her. “Their thoughts were never secret,” she continues, though there must have been many things her mother kept from them. “I didn’t…,” she pauses, shakes her head, “it’s a lousy excuse, but I didn’t know how not to listen. I’d never had to try.”
anaise
@Nemeon