All of that
Date: Dec 11th, 2008 1:42:03 pm - Subscribe
Mood: dead


She lays perfectly still, unmoving.
She is breathing...she is here.
Her chest tightens with each breathe.
how could he do this to me? The images replay over and over again in her head. It engulfs her every thought, her every emotion, her every existence. No. Wrong. This isn't living.
She wants him to grab her. To stroke her hair. To cradle her while she sobs; for what? Everything. Anything. It all. All of this.
She pictures him with her. Her with him. Her with no one. She has no one.
She can feel the sob creep up in her throat, it almost escapes but she punishes herself...pushing it further down. She can't cry, she doesn't deserve to.
Vulnerability is too much.
hold me...hold me please she croaks inside.
His hand brushes her hair behind her ear.
she is safe...she is silent.
His hand on her hand. Security. The familiar twitch of pain.
She is perfectly still, unmoving.
Again, she fools him. Again...he knows nothing of this.
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